A/N: Sorry this took so long to update! I'm going to try and write 'shorter' chapters so that I can hopefully update more frequently. I'll make this short and sweet, but in regards to the ending... I ask that you trust me. It is not for shock value and will all make sense next chapter!
And per usual, please please please let me know if anyone seems OOC, things seem to be moving too fast, or something doesn't make sense. Thank you all so much for the favorites, follows, and reviews! They mean a lot!
"You said it was from a stray bullet?"
Rebecca nodded and then winced when the infirmary nurse rubbed another pad of alcohol over her wound. The nurse muttered an apology and leaned closer, spreading apart the 'entry' wound with her thumbs to get a better look at it. Rebecca sucked in a breath and held it as the nurse manipulated and stretched and pulled at it. She knew by the way she was scrutinizing it that her skepticism that it was a bullet wound was building. It had been foolish of her to blindly follow the Homunculus's suggestion to check herself into infirmary when she could have gone and sought attention for it elsewhere. It certainly wasn't life-threatening by any means, only managing to catch the thin layer of connective tissues and fat on her side. She likely only needed a bandage and antibiotics.
At that moment, though, it had been the only thing she found she could do. The suggestion to go, even though it was by the monster that had stolen her best friend's face, she complied. Her mind was still spinning, still trying to comprehend the state of her best friend's mind; trying to piece together the chain of events that led up to General Armstrong shooting her.
The sting of the antiseptic exacerbated the wound, and the image of the Homunculus flashed across her mind's eye. She clutched a hand to her side and doubled over as the fragmented images spun themselves together and reformed the moment Armstrong took matters into her own hands. Rebecca could still clearly see the light fading from Riza's eyes as her body began to die. See the blood that poured from the wound the bullet had inflicted. Watch as her best friend's body died a slow, agonizing death, only to be taken again by the creature that held her hostage.
Miss Catalina?
She felt pressure against her shoulder and she looked up to see that the nurse's lips were moving asynchronously with the words she was hearing. At least, to her they weren't. It was difficult to discern whether it was because of the pounding of her heart in her ears, because her mind no longer could process what had happened, or both.
I'm going to get the doctor—
Before the nurse could make a move toward the door, Rebecca's free hand shot out from her side and gripped the woman's wrist, surprising them both. The nurse's eyes widened, and before she demanded an explanation from Rebecca, she panted, "D-don't, please. I just…" Her grip on the nurse's arm loosened and she slowly drew her hand away. "I just need something to drink, please?" The nurse's befuddled expression grew more complex, and even more confused. Rebecca had always prided herself with the fact that she was able to almost effortlessly explain away her actions into whatever she needed to. Her attempt this time, however, had fallen flat. Or at least, that's what she believed.
She forced a smile and removed her hand from her tender side with the smallest of winces, and once again said, this time with a tinge more confidence, "I think I just need something to ice my side. I don't think the medications have kicked in yet."
She was met by a skeptical glare, and she knew that she wouldn't be able to shake the nurse's suspicions. Still, her smile remained and she put on a brave face, watching as the nurse rose to her feet and set the bloodied alcohol pads on a nearby table. The woman reached up and pressed the back of her hand against Rebecca's forehead, brows knitting together as she searched for a fever that likely wasn't there. After a few moments passed, the heat she had been looking for absent clearly absent, she pulled away and frowned.
"I'll grab one for you on my way back in," the nurse assured her as she wiped her hands off on a towel. "For now, please sit back and wait for the doctor. He should be with you in a few moments."
Rebecca gave her a taut nod and silently watched as the nurse exited the room and closed the door behind her. She waited until her footsteps faded before she collapsed onto the cot she had been seated on and draped her arms over her eyes. Before she would allow herself to revisit the images that had played through her mind before, Rebecca took a deep breath and exhaled. She hoped that the few moments of solace the nurse had unknowingly left her gave her time to recollect herself, because the sooner she convinced them that she was okay, the sooner she could leave and deal with her emotions on her own time.
Another strangled gulp of air filled her lungs, and she fought to keep the sob that sat in her throat from spilling out.
Who was she trying to fool anyways? She knew deep down that it was impossible; that the Homunculus that had taken complete control of her best friend's body had beaten them. Even that small glimpse she had seen of Riza was barely a fragment of who she had been. It was reasonable enough to believe that the Homunculus's presence was eating away at her: the glassy eyes she bore and the manic mantra she had repeated over and over again was not the Riza Hawkeye she had known.
A third breath gnawed and reminded her of the wound at her side and she freed one of her arms so that she could press her hand against it. She jumped and the breath caught in her chest when the door to the room opened. But instead of the doctor, or the monster, she had been expecting to see, she found herself strangely relieved, and yet somewhat terrified, when General Armstrong stepped into the room. The General's glance briefly skimmed past Rebecca and around the room before they finally found their way over to her again.
"You had every opportunity to reveal what really happened to them. Or at least expose it for what it is," General Armstrong stated as she folded her arms over her chest and leaned back against the wall beside Rebecca. "So why didn't you?"
Rebecca's grip on the cot's edge tightened and she turned her eyes away from the General, focusing them on a small mark on the wall in the corner furthest from her. She already knew what the hardened General would say to her. Survival of the fittest was the mantra up at Briggs, and it was either kill or be killed. The fact of the matter was that she had failed to overcome her emotions and focus on the task at hand, which had been to kill the enemy. She had let her guard down and wore her emotions on her sleeve… and the Homunculus honed in on that and played her like a fiddle.
It wouldn't matter that Riza had made an appearance because, though they had not directly communicated, their objectives were clearly the same: to kill the Homunculi. Including the ones who inhabited the bodies of two of the most important people in Rebecca's life. That meant, of course, killing both Riza and Colonel Mustang.
The thought of losing sight of that objective because she had given in to her emotions was unacceptable for the rational General. She could feel the lack of empathy permeating the air that sat otherwise stagnant between them.
With nothing left as an excuse in her mind, and with nothing else she could say, she stuck to her honest answer and quietly replied, "I don't know…"
Out of the corner of her eye she could see that the General's face had grown sour. She pressed her lips together and sat rigidly as Armstrong countered, "That isn't an answer, Catalina."
The resentment she felt both for herself and the General nearly made her bit back with a witty remark. Any other day she would have said that it was an answer, just not the answer that was being sought. Instead she kept quiet, keeping her quiet focus on the corner of the room furthest from the General. After a few moments of complete silence dragged on, the General scoffed and Rebecca flinched. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw General Armstrong turn away and make her way toward the door.
Rebecca turned her head as the General placed her hand on the doorknob. Just as she was about to open her mouth to say something –anything- to get the General to stay for a moment more, her subconscious request was answered.
"You fooled me in the past," the General retorted. "I never thought you to be someone without a spine."
Rebecca winced. If it were anyone else or any other time, her response would have been equally calloused. But at that moment, those words stung, though she knew how the General had come to that conclusion.
Still, she swallowed back the disdain she felt for them, and herself, and managed to utter, "You don't understand—"
She sucked in a deep breath when the General whirled around, her eyes blazing. Her lips formed a deep scowl and her expression turned from passive to fury. "'Don't understand,'" she echoed back bitterly. "Don't understand what, Catalina?"
Rebecca pressed her lips together and she curled her fingers tighter around the edge of the table, even though they had already grown numb.
The General scoffed. "Am I failing to understand what it means for these monsters to continue their existence? Or is there something I don't know about them that I should? Because it seems to me, Catalina, that by keeping them alive is endangering more lives than are being saved."
The pit in Rebecca's stomach grew, and the nauseating feeling she felt earlier returned full force. She dug her fingers into her side, hoping the stimulation it would cause the wound would be enough to distract her away from the utter sickness she felt. That feeling was returning… that feeling of loneliness.
It had been there when she had left Jean. When she had confronted Lust alone. When she had seen the state of mind Riza had been in. Where it felt as though no one was there. Where Jean was hundreds of miles away literally, and her best friend was figuratively. For a moment, just a single moment, when the General had appeared, she had believed herself to have found an ally. But now she could feel that awareness slipping away.
"You need to realize that you won't be able to save every life," the General continued, her voice softer than it had been moments before. "You need to consider all of your options and decide for yourself if you want to save the life of one while damning others, or if you are willing to sacrifice a life for the good of all. Remember that your point is moot when you realize that the livelihood of your friend has been snuffed out, and that every life that is taken from this point on will be on your shoulders."
Rebecca jerked her head up and caught the General's eye. She swallowed, hard, as she felt the tears she had tried to keep at bay begin to pool in the corners of her eyes again. She knew. She had seen it too despite not knowing Riza like she did. The General had seen what she had become, and knew that she was fading.
But more importantly, she voiced what Rebecca had selfishly tried to delay…
The General's brows wrinkled curiously, though it was only for a moment before the sound of approaching footsteps reached their ears. In an instant, the passive expression the General wore so well returned, and she turned to look over her shoulder at Rebecca again. "Once you've considered your options and grown a spine, you know where to find me…-"
The door to the room opened, and the doctor who was about to enter nearly ran into the General. Once he realized who it was, he was quick to salute and step to the side. General Armstrong took another moment, however, to shoot Rebecca a meaningful glare before she turned away and brushed past the doctor and nurse.
Rebecca was relieved in some ways that they had come at the time they had. Because at least for a while longer, she was given the refuge she needed to process the General's words… and time to correct her jumbled thoughts. Deep down in her heart she knew the conclusion she would have to reach.
But at least for a few moments longer, she could pretend that her best friend was still within reach.
Minutes had passed since the shadows' arrival, though it felt as though it had been hours. The shadow made no advancement toward them, a low hiss of discontent slipping past its clenched teeth every once and a while.
When her heart had slowed, Izumi took a tentative step toward it and its eyes narrowed. A slight movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention and her eyes flickered down toward it, watching as a snake-like shadow slithered toward the entrance of their refuge, only for it to dissolve in a burst of sparks moments after it passed its self-imposed boundary. Marcoh stopped beside her, also studying the anomalous being. The air surrounding him was weighted by his thoughts, thoughts she knew they both shared.
It was peculiar that the shadow had trapped them, but had not made a move to kill them. It clearly had the capacity to, especially with the wounds that Falman had sustained. Unless, much like the small tendril she had just witnessed, it could not pass the boundary that had been set.
She was surprised to see Marcoh take another few steps forward, until he was toe to toe with the creature. Its eyes narrowed and it spat bitterly, its shadowy tendrils sparking and hissing as they fruitlessly tried to gain access to them. He seemed unfazed by its tantrum.
"I recognize you," he addressed it. "I never saw you, but I could hear you slithering around just outside of where I was held prisoner in Central. It seems to me that you are present in both Central and these tunnels, right?" It snarled again, and the corners of his lips tugged upward. "So then I'm correct, aren't I?"
"You and those other worthless maggots will die here," its disembodied voice finally proclaimed. "You are trapped here along with me. I won't let you escape."
Marcoh's brows lifted. "Is that what you believe, Homunculus?"
"Homunculus…" That was a Homunculus? Izumi had seen the different forms the Homunculi could take, and the variety of human-like shapes they could possess. But never had she imagined they could take on a form so vastly different from the norm she had begun to accept. Especially when it was something so grotesque and shapeless. It was as though this one was made of darkness itself.
"That's right," Marcoh explained without turning back to face her. "What you see before you is a Homunculus. I have no doubt about it. However," he added. "I believe that you have another form. Something that will allow you to walk around relatively unnoticed. It certainly took you long enough to find us wandering down in these tunnels. Were you reoccupied elsewhere?"
it squinted at him, and then its mouths split into an array of smiles. "You're clever, Dr. Marcoh. Though, I wouldn't expect any less from an alchemist of your caliber. I do have another form. One that you will never venture to see."
"And why is that," Marcoh challenged. "You've prematurely announced your victory over us." He turned away from the monster and calmly walked over to the lantern they had set beside Falman. When he lifted it in his hand, he turned again to face it. "You are a creature conjured by shadows, no? What happens when there is no light for you to cast them?" Its eyes widened, but before it could answer, he flicked the lantern off and immersed them in darkness.
Izumi tensed, her heart rocketing into her throat. They were completely surrounded by the shadows, no longer safely behind the barrier that had been set against the monster. "You…" she gasped, "Dr. Marcoh, have you lost your—"
"It's alright," he answered from beside her. She heard his shoes scrape against the ground as he passed her, once again heading toward the spot the monster had stopped. She stumbled to her feet, reaching out in the darkness to grip his arm and draw him back, but she caught him too late. The echo of him stepping into the tunnel met her ears and she braced herself for his inevitable end. But the screams she had expected or the bloodbath she believed would come never did.
"You see," he explained, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the ground. "The creature may have the ability to cast its shadows wherever it likes in these tunnels, but it can only do harm where light is present. Isn't that right, Officer Falman?"
"The shadows vanished the moment my lantern shattered," Falman explained from behind her. "I… managed to crawl by way into this outpouching and just hoped that in the darkness it wouldn't be able to find me. I could hear it slithering around but it never… It never followed through with its intent to kill me."
"You're right," Marcoh continued. "It's definitely still here, listening to every word that we say. But as long as there is no light, it cannot touch us."
"So what do you propose we do now," Scar muttered. "The moment we break surface it will return."
Marcoh made a noise of disapproval. "What we intended to do when we first ventured down here: retrieve Edward Elric. If we step lightly and follow the sounds we've been hearing, then we'll be able to reach the fort. Once there, we can tunnel out and altogether avoid the Homunculus. Remember how it wasn't able to leave the tunnel itself and reach into this outpouching? If that holds true, then we should be able to create another that it won't be able to infiltrate."
"And if it can," Scar muttered dryly.
"Then we die," Marcoh answered matter-of-factly. "Either way, we will. Whether or not we do retreating or storming the fort, however, is entirely up to us."
The tension in the air was almost palpable. Izumi knew that Scar was less than thrilled about the excursion itself, especially considering that he had only agreed to lead them to his brother's notes because of Marcoh. Not because he wanted to help Edward or even wanted any part in what the Elric brothers were trying to do. The notion that he had attacked them was unsettling to her to say the least, and she would admit that she had been on guard from the moment they had begun their journey to collect his brother's notes. Though she had noted his less than interested, almost standoffish demeanor toward the brothers after that. As though something had changed between their encounter with him in Central and when he had been injured by Lust. But as long as his focus was off the Elric brothers, she would continue to keep her guarded alliance with him.
While she knew the reasoning behind his prior actions, she knew that she could never truly understand. She walked a fine line between sympathy and anger when it came to the actions he had taken against the military's State Alchemists, because on one hand she understood the atrocious injustices that had been committed against his people. But on the other… on the other she could not grasp the fact that he had directed his anger toward the two brothers, because of all the alchemists he could have targeted, their existence was the least of his concerns. Edward had never participated during the war. He was barely old enough to be in school at the time. The eastern part of the country, where Resembool lie, was affected by the horrendous war, and the lives of those living there were forever changed. He had made her very aware of the fact that both of their childhood friend's parents, doctors, had perished during the war.
In the end both sides had suffered innumerable losses, and many innocent people had died.
"I see." She stiffened when Scar's voice broke through the darkness. Even if he chose to abandon them at that moment, she would continue. No matter what. "So if there's no other option," he muttered. "We should continue on."
Izumi had formed a rebuttal but stopped short when she fully processed his words. He was… agreeing to move forward?
"So you're agreeing to move forward," Marcoh responded, a hint of surprise in his tone.
"What other option is there," Scar murmured. "The boy is a prodigy, right? If we want to make headway on the notes my brother left behind, we need as many eyes on them as we can get. It will all be pointless if we die retreating."
"I agree," Marcoh concluded. "So it's settled that we will move forward then."
Scar grumbled a reply and all at once the tension that had hung in the air around Izumi dissipated. Though it wasn't for Edward's good that he was doing it, she was at the least thankful that he had agreed to move on. She made a mental note to discuss her thanks in private with him later… after they got Edward back.
"Warrant Officer Falman," Marcoh addressed the officer. "Are you able to stand? Or would you prefer that one of us stay behind with you?"
"No… I can stand," he confirmed as he slowly rose to his feet and braced himself against the wall. "You're going to need me if you want to find Edward anyway."
Izumi reached into the darkness toward him, groping the air until she finally made contact with his shoulder. She tightened her grip and helped steady him. "Are you sure?"
He breathed out, the sound akin to that of a light laugh, and she heard him shake his head. "If it wasn't for Edward, I wouldn't be here right now. He was the one who saved me from whatever fate the Homunculus had planned."
Izumi wrinkled her brows. "What it had planned? What did it…?"
"I'm still not sure myself," he admitted as he began to shuffle forward toward the main tunnel, and Izumi began to follow. "All I know was that it wasn't good." He stopped and Izumi followed suit, both of them teetering at the edge of the opening that led into the tunnel.
Izumi sucked in a deep breath and slowly lifted her free hand. The memory of the Homunculus's shadows and bright red eyes slowly worked its way back into her mind. Marcoh's theory was sound. If it had wanted to kill them, it certainly would have done so… unless it was lying in wait just outside. But… right then Edward was what was most important to them. The longer they waited, the longer the battle that had begun at Fort Briggs would rage on… and the most opportunity there was for something to happen to him, whether it was because of the war itself or the Homunculus. If they remained there, they would likely starve or would be mutilated by the shadowy Homunculus. If they ventured out, they may very well meet that same fate. But if what Marcoh had proclaimed to be true, there was a chance that they would be able to make it out alive. That chance, however slim, was the one thing she would hold onto. Because that meant there was a chance she would get to him.
She extended her arm until she was well past the separation between the tunnel and their found sanctuary and waited. What she had expected was a debilitating attack, or tendrils of darkness wrapping themselves around her and engulfing her completely. But when the worst had not come, she eased the two of them out into the tunnel, beginning their final advance toward the fort… And toward Edward.
A loud rap against the window roused them from their solemn stupor and they both looked up to see May Chang standing in front of their window, her hands cupped over her eyes and pressed against the glass. Her small companion, 'Xiao Mei' Alphonse remembered, was standing beside her, face pressed against the glass and peering inside at them as well. Her mouth fell open when their eyes met and Alphonse scrambled to his feet and jogged over to the window.
When he unlatched, it she hopped inside and thanked him for his speedy response. Lifting a hand, he rubbed the back of his helmet and quietly answered her gratitude. She flashed him a small smile before she tore her eyes away from him to offer the same to Winry. Her expression, however, quickly changed, and the smile on her face quickly melted away as she watched Winry push away the tears that had stuck in the corners of her eyes.
Just as May opened her mouth to question Winry, she shook her head and forced a smile. "It's okay," she assured her. "I just got… a little overwhelmed, is all."
May's mouth formed a small 'o,' as though she understood what Winry really meant. She quickly looked between the two of them before her eyes ultimately settled on Alphonse. Her shoulders visibly slumped, and her expression grew mournful. "So you've already heard, then?"
May's shoulders visibly slumped and her expression fell. "Then you've already heard?"
"Already heard what?" Alphonse turned to exchange a confused glance with Winry. Though it was unfortunate to admit, they knew little outside of what was happening between them or within the military. But even then, they only knew whatever information Lust had fed to them. The twist of alarm that Alphonse felt within his soul tightened when May's eyes widened, and his thoughts immediately turned to the one person he was waiting to hear news on. He took a step forward and crouched down, and gripped her shoulders. "What is it, May? What happened?"
Her eyes flickered between them, and the realization that they had been on two different wavelengths. "So…" she said slowly. "You two haven't heard then? That Fort Briggs… is under attack?"
Every moment of every day, he struggled. Tearing, clawing, fruitlessly fighting against the impossibly tight hold Wrath had upon his soul. The stringent grasp by which Wrath held him failed to waver from the moment the Homunculus seized hold after his heated confrontation with Envy.
And since then he had fought.
Roy struggled and tore against the Homunculus's hold while he watched the light fade from Riza's eyes, as Lust edged her away from him, bit by bit, after she had manipulated her sins to fit her own.
He had fought tooth and nail against Wrath as it coolly voiced the order to have one of his dearest subordinates executed, simply because he had been thrust into the situation for his association with Roy. He mourned his loss while Wrath played it off as part of their elaborate game.
And he had clashed against the Homunculus every step it took toward defiling the beliefs of the Elric brothers, fighting with everything he could muster to prevent it from destroying their drive to retrieve their bodies. He had watched through eyes that had become as passive as one-way mirrors as they fought valiantly against the tyrannical efforts the Homunculi had enforced to tear them down, never wavering from their unwarranted need to salvage what was left of Riza and himself.
All that struggling, however much it sometimes felt as though it were all for naught, never ebbed. There were times where, just for a moment, he had been able to break free from the Homunculus's impossibly tight hold; when he, for a second, was able to be himself again. Those times had been fleeting, and the moment his rush of strength waned, he was forced back into the deepest recesses of his mind to be subjected once again to witnessing Wrath destroy everything it could.
This time, however, he found himself at the forefront of his mind with very little resistance from Wrath. He had fought so violently before, twisting and tearing against its hold on him with every stroke of its blade or snap of its ignition gloves. Every move that it dictated against Edward Elric, he viciously battled to counter it. And for a moment, just a single moment, he could break free and attempt to warn him away.
And the boy who never gave up refused his request, just as he so often did.
The almost frivolous touch of familiarity he often felt in his gut had been his weakness, and the Homunculus seized the opportunity. A burst of force and a flash of red accompanied its seizure of control before its grapple for dominance subsided, just as quickly as it had taken it again, leaving him alone in a haze to stumble through the aftermath of its actions.
His mind was lagging; he struggled to make sense of the red that his eyes would not leave. How strikingly different it was from the familiar red fabric it continued to saturate, the spot growing increasingly larger with every second that passed.
He fought to understand the bounding pulse he felt in his arm, each beat reverberating through the weapon in his hand.
His mind failed to understand, but deep down in his soul he knew what had been done.
His eyes finally, finally, tore away from the growing spot of red on Edward's abdomen and flickered up to see that once determined golden eyes had lost their luster, drowned in pools of sorrow and hurt.
"Do you see what your insubordination has done, Mustang," the Homunculus sneered as the blade slipped from Roy's grip and clattered to the ground beside him. He lifted his hand, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose and the lower curvature of his eye, and he felt the familiar restlessness of the Ouroboros flitted across it as Wrath slowly began to ease back into control. "If you had heeded my warning and refrained from trying to reach the boy, he would not be in the state he is now."
"Y… you," he gasped, stumbling back as flashes of red sparked through his vision. "What have you—"
"'What have 'we' done," the Homunculus corrected him as it pushed through the thinned veil that had once been Roy's defense. "You have just as much a part in this as I. Your actions forced me to reprimand you both."
His eye flickered down as Edward pushed himself onto his side and pressed his hands against the wound. The boy's eyes were wide in panic and the color had drained from his face, his expression having turned from shocked to panicked. Roy could see the slow acceptance that spread across Edward's expression as his mind caught up with his body.
"Though limited, the medicinal alchemy knowledge you possess should be enough to patch him closed," Wrath assured him. "I won't let the boy die."
"You… You did this as punishment," Roy gasped.
The mottled cluster of souls that comprised Wrath's form twisted into the shape of a malignant grin. "I got both of your attentions, didn't I?"
With a deranged cry, Roy's arm violently jerked out and grasped at the collection of souls, dispersing them. "I would have taken it," he snarled. "I would have taken anything you would have dealt him!"
The Homunculus reassembled itself with relative ease, casting its grin toward Roy once again. "Such resent you feel, Colonel. Perhaps I should have done this sooner if it meant invoking your wrath further."
"You monster—"
The Homunculus gripped hold of him and forced him back. "Maybe it's best you sit back, Colonel. You've done enough damage—"
Roy slammed into the Homunculus's force, preparing to grapple for control again, when a quiet, "Damn it…" forced both of them to momentarily pause. His eyes moved without command to the boy who was lying a few meters from them, and widened.
Edward's fingers twisted in the red of his jacket, saturating the white gloves he wore with the blood. His attempt to staunch the bleeding, however, did little to slow it, as it continued to pool around him. His panic paused momentarily, long enough for his eyes to slowly wander up to Roy's again. His mouth fell open and a wave of blood cascaded from his lips, trickling down his chin and spilling onto his coat.
The corners of Roy's lips inadvertently turned upward and, in a voice as sickeningly sweet as honey, the Homunculus purred, "You weren't expecting that were you, Fullmetal?"
Edward's lips moved in an attempt to respond. When the boy seemed to realize that the words would not come, he bowed forward and pressed his forehead against the cement and tried to catch his breath again.
The tormented cry that spilled from Roy's lips a beat later originated from the Homunculus as well as he dug the fingers of his hand into the socket of his eye. Ripping, tearing, clawing at the damned eye that gave the Homunculus its power, Roy feverishly fought to keep it at bay. It jerked back and he found himself in complete control again, falling to his knees with an anguished cry. The stab of pain ran directly through his head and radiated down his neck and spine as he dug his fingers deeper into his skull.
He knew that it would not evict the demon that had taken residence in his body, but it would be enough to remind it that he was not done fighting yet. Roy curled the ends of his fingers, digging into the soft, bulbous shape of the cursed eye. The Homunculus reeled and slammed against his psyche, throwing him off kilter. His balance faltered and he fell onto his side.
Through blurred vision he could see Edward staring back, widened eyes indicating that he was no longer focused on himself. Instead of using his other hand to staunch the bleeding, the boy was clawing at the ground in front of him, trying to drag himself over to Roy. He clenched his teeth and hissed, "Get away, Fullmetal," and he shoved himself back.
"N… no," Edward wheezed as a look of defiance crossed his pallid face. "Not until… until you beat it…. Idiot."
Just as Roy sunk his fingers deeper into the accursed eye, his other hand rose up and gripped his wrist. The Philosopher's Stone that coursed through his veins electrified, and sparks poured from the crevices around his eye as Wrath drove and grappled for control. The toll from his defiant act against the Homunculus had already worn thin, and he felt his soul begin to slip away. Roy's head snapped back and with an anguished cry, thrust his fingers forward until his knuckles scraped against bone.
"Stop!"
Through red-tinged vision, Roy watched as Edward forced himself up onto his hands and knees. The boy took a few deep, panting breaths before he lifted his head to lock and then narrow his eyes. He carefully inched himself closer and coughed, "You… son of a bitch."
"Fullmetal," he hissed through clenched teeth as Wrath's hand crept closer to the blade he had abandoned. "Get away—"
"Not… not a chance," Edward wheezed. "Not until you stop." Roy fought, jaw trembling, to force the words that Wrath had entangled in the back of his throat, but before he could Edward continued, "Whatever happened to… moving forward." His elbow jutted out from beneath him and caught purchase with the cement, and he dragged himself toward Roy. "Remember…? When you told me that? Whatever happened… to that?"
Wrath's grip around him tightened, and the fingers that penetrated the cursed eye independently withdrew themselves. Roy snapped the eye shut as the alchemic sparks that signified its regeneration. There wasn't enough time. The moments he had had control were drawing thin, and he no longer had complete control of his body. Roy rolled onto his back and used what little strength he had left to slam his eyes shut and press his tightened fist against his chest.
"You… told me," Edward whispered through bursts of labored breaths. "That I shouldn't give up. So why… why would I do that now?"
"L-listen to me, Fullmetal," Roy pleaded as he fought off another push for dominance from Wrath. "You aren't responsible for us. You need to… to continue going without us."
"Stop with that… senseless garbage," the boy snapped through a bout of hacking coughs. "You… Hawkeye… Ling. All of you are going to be there at the finish line…"
Roy's mouth fell open – the last free movement he could accomplish- and Wrath promptly snapped it shut. His eyes flew open and the hold he had on his consciousness slipped. Every ounce of control he had grappled to gain loosened, and he felt his limbs grow numb. He watched helplessly as Edward bowed forward again, and as he slowly sank back into his subconscious.
A defiant glean in his eye, Edward confidently muttered, "We'll… see you there."
It was the last thing Roy witnessed before he was hurled back into oblivion.
When he was finally within reach of the Colonel – when he was moments from nurturing his breakthrough – the opportunity was taken from them. One moment Mustang was there and then the next, Edward found himself staring at Buccaneer's back. His eyes darted up to the behemoth and he watched as the Captain turned around to glare down at him. Edward's eyes narrowed and he bared his teeth. If they had given him more time, then maybe—
"Edward!"
Edward squeezed his eyes closed and gritted his teeth as he was jostled around and shifted until his torso was on someone's lap. His hand clamped down over the wound as it throbbed from being pulled and stretched, and he willed his eyes open, finding himself staring into a set of striking deep red eyes. His heart constricted as the Ouroboros flashed in his mind, and his instinctive response was to push himself way. By the time his hand pressed against the person's chest, his senses returned and the rest of them slowly materialized in his otherwise dull vision.
He had had a sneaking suspicion about Major Miles's heritage, though he never found it in good taste to bring it up, nor had there ever been a time that was right…
Edward's hand slipped from Miles's chest and he rolled his head side to side to chase his wandering thoughts away. His mind had already begun to grow fuzzy, and he found that it was becoming harder to keep his mind on track. He twisted his fingers around the cloth of his jacket and pressed down on the wound. He hissed through his teeth and blinked away the darkness that had begun to cloud his vision, propping himself against Miles's arm. He vaguely registered the soldier's voice, but he brushed it off.
Edward knew that he wouldn't be able to use pressure to stop the bleeding for much longer. By the time Miles would bring him to a medic, it would likely be too late. It would only be a matter of time before he bled out completely. His eyes fluttered closed and he took a few hurried breaths, trying to clear his mind long enough to think straight.
The blood just seemed to keep coming. He hadn't thought the wound had hit anything important. It was difficult to determine, however, exactly what the Homunculus had perforated. Without knowing, it would be difficult to apply what little knowledge he had about medical alchemy to fixing it. But he knew that time was running out and that if he delayed it further, he would be past the point of being able to decide.
A blast rocked the ground beneath them and Edward's eyes flew open. He turned his head and saw Buccaneer disperse the smoke from Wrath's blast with a wave of his automail arm. The former wasted no time and sprinted forward, turning his claws on the Homunculus and managing to tear through the flesh of his shoulder. He idly watched as Wrath fell back with a hiss, his free hand lifting to cover the wound as a burst of red alchemic sparks poured from the wound.
It made sense that the Philosopher's Stone was so reactive. It coursed through Mustang's body via his blood, virtually touching every part of his body simultaneously. The moment it registers an abrasion it activates, and within moments it is healed.
A Philosopher's Stone that's… everywhere. That's easily accessible.
His eyes crossed and uncrossed, and he quickly found that it was too difficult for him to keep his focus on the fast-paced battle that raged before him. Edward's head rolled forward and he rested his chin against his chest, appreciating the extent of his injury. He tested his hands, squeezing and loosening them.
He could feel every inch of himself, from the frantic pound of his heart against his ribcage to the transient warmth at the tips of his toes. He was in control of every part of himself, conscious or otherwise. What his heart – his soul – desired, his body answered to. He lifted a hand and stared down at his tarnished glove, and he felt an almost mad smile tug at his lips.
Maybe it was the blood loss, but the thought that sprang into his mind seemed to be clear enough to execute. The principle behind it made sense, the only difference being that he did not house the magnitude of souls within him that Wrath had. He was but only one soul; one that, theoretically, housed enough energy for him to harness. Had he the time, he would have run over every potential complication in his head. But unfortunately, he did not.
"Edward," he heard Miles yell over the sound of another blast. "We need to get you to a doctor."
"Won't… make it to doctor," he hissed over the pound of his heart in his ears. "Need to… fix it now."
Before Miles could counter with his confusion, Edward hurriedly finished formulating the transmutation in his mind and slapped his hands together. The resulting burst of red alchemic energy that sparked at the tips of his fingers traveled down his arms and surged through his body. It electrified him, and he suddenly felt himself finally understand when it danced across his heart and continued its path through the remainder of his body.
It wasn't just the soul and body that fueled a Philosopher's Stone. It was the combination of those plus the spirit that completed it. Every bit of the spirit that tethered his soul to his physical form pulled taut with the surge of energy. He could feel it in his arms and legs, his head and his heart. A Philosopher's Stone drew from every facet of a living being, mortal or immortal. That was what gave it the power needed to complete a perfect transmutation every time without fail.
He pulled his hands apart and drew the energy away from his body, concentrating it in his hands again. He swallowed the lump of doubt that had begun to form in his throat and looked up one final time. Past Miles he could see the Homunculus let loose another small burst of flames, which were quickly extinguished by a wave of Buccaneer's automail arm.
Edward brushed away the minute surprise that crossed his mind, reminding himself that Buccaneer was a soldier. One who was one of General Armstrong's most devoted and loyal men. It should not be too surprising to him once he realized that the behemoth was giving Wrath too little space to work with. Every time it attempted to snap Buccaneer would refuse to relent and, instead of shying away, would bound forward and close the distance between them. His brush with the monster, however brief it was, was enough for Edward to realize that it did not have the capacity to control Mustang's flames the way the latter could. It required more concentration and thought to conjure them… and Buccaneer caught on quickly.
His vision blurred and he tore his eyes away from the massive soldier to focus on his opponent again. The sparks he had seen erupt from its eye minutes before were a demonstration of the power of the Philosopher's Stone… and what he was confident he had felt just moments ago. Edward shook his head to chase away the darkness that fogged his vision of the Homunculus and allowed his head to slump forward and his chin to contact his chest. The blood from the wound was still spreading at an alarming rate, and he knew that if he hesitated again he would miss the opportunity to harness what he had discovered inside himself.
A half-hearted chuckle reverberated in his throat, realizing that it was the monster who damned him who ultimately led him to that revelation. It was almost laughable how its attempt to silence him had instead given him the knowledge he needed to completely understand the function of a Philosopher's Stone and, once he had cemented his survival, could ultimately lead to its downfall. His eyes fluttered shut and he took a deep, shaking breath as he tried to culminate his jumbled thoughts. What mattered was that he had drawn from it what was necessary of his understanding of the Philosopher's Stone. And because of it, he would be able to continue on to fight against it, and maybe even return home sooner than he had expected to.
A flash of grey and blonde interrupted the darkness and he slowly opened his eyes again, feeling the warmth that had otherwise left them slowly creep back to his fingers and toes. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He'd be able to see Alphonse and Winry again, and get them to stop worrying about him. And maybe he'd even be able to see Winry smile again.
"Edward…"
He ignored Miles's probing, confused question and, still feeling the raw alchemic energy in his hands and fingers, pressed his palms to the wound. A surge of warmth blossomed from it and he pushed his hands harder against it as he allowed himself to return to the feeling he had felt moments before – when he could feel the combined energy of his soul, body, and spirit working together. When he grasped hold of it, he held onto it and closed his eyes, visualizing the cells in his body rearranging themselves and changing to fit their newly designated roles. Blood would become vessels, and the shredded skin from his wound would shed the cells that had died and proliferate again to form new tissue. He envisioned the blood vessels that had been torn to shreds and in his mind's eye reconstructed them again.
The dull burn where the wound was that had been steadily increasing suddenly ignited, and a searing pain erupted from it. Edward ground his teeth together and pushed through the white-hot pain, and forced himself to focus on the task at hand.
He would not die.
Not that day.
He had promised himself that he would see Alphonse and Winry again. He had vowed to return to them in one piece. And…
This time a flash of blonde, blue, and gold flashed before his mind, and he willed himself to focus on it – the visions of Mustang, Hawkeye, and Ling standing with their backs toward him, just beyond his reach. He promised them he would do whatever it took to bring them back, even if that meant sacrificing something in return.
Their bodies.
Al's body.
He would not die there, because he had so much more to accomplish. He wasn't done… not yet…
Another burst of pain surged through his gut and he collapsed onto his side as the raw bitterness of iron filled his mouth. He would not die. He would not die.
He would not die.
His vision blurred, and the visions returned; this time with more clarity.
He would not die.
Edward vaguely registered a low rumble in the pavement beneath him before his sight darkened, and the world disappeared.
When she had subjected herself to living in the North all those years ago, Izumi had played a game of cat and mouse with Briggs soldiers. Always staying within a reasonable distance from the fort; never far enough to be a day's walk, but never close enough to be detected by their ground forces. Just close enough, she had determined, to survive.
She would admit that she never paid much heed to what the inside of the fort looked like. It never interested her. Now that she was inside it, however, she found herself in awe of its size. It hid within it hundreds upon hundreds of soldiers. And among them, lost somewhere in the chaos that ensued after the morning's events, was Edward Elric.
Another blast shook the ground beneath them and Izumi stumbled, managing to find her bearings by stabilizing herself against a wall. She jerked her head around to survey the area behind them. It had been a blessing that none of the Briggs soldiers had confronted them. Though having Officer Falman at the helm of their team was certainly beneficial. The officer knew the fort like the back of his own hand, maneuvering them effortlessly around the barricades designed by his brothers-in-arms, weaving them around the packs of soldiers that were feverishly milling around.
"This way!"
She jerked her head up and watched as Falman and Scar pressed themselves against the wall. She stumbled forward and Dr. Marcoh caught her arm, pulling her against him. "They're in this room," he hissed in her ear. "We must step lightly and—"
The moment her mind registered the meaning of his words, she pulled her arm from his grip and pushed past Falman and Scar.
Her eye was immediately drawn to a behemoth of a man who was swinging wildly at another smaller, dark shape. She tracked it, and a moment later recognized that the black jacket belonged to the Homunculus.
"Major Falman!"
She jerked her head around and watched as Falman and Marcoh sprinted over to a blue and red form off to the sidelines. Before she followed after, she turned momentarily to keep tabs on the fight that continued to rage between the soldier and Homunculus. Deciding that they had been too preoccupied to notice their arrival, she hurriedly raced after Falman and Marcoh. As she drew closer, she registered that the red she had seen before was a familiar hue, and the form that it belonged to as well.
"Edward!" Upon realizing who it was, she fell to her knees alongside Marcoh. As she began to frantically survey him and reached up and pressed a hand to his forehead.
His eyes slowly opened and wandered up to find hers. A few moments passed before he seemed to process who she was, but when he finally had, he creased his brows. "T…teacher?"
"I'm here, Ed," she reassured him, resting a hand on his arm. "What happ—"
Marcoh gasped and she stopped, jerking around to set her panicked gaze on him. The doctor swept his hand through the pool of blood – the pool of blood she failed to notice when she had recognized the boy – and said, "How did this happen?"
"He hasn't said," the soldier informed them. "All I've managed to gather is that he has a wound to his abdomen. I was trying to move him when he did something to himself."
"Did something…" Marcoh muttered as his hands continued to work themselves over the boy's stomach. When his finger caught against a tear in the fabric, he stiffened.
"Had to… do something…"
Izumi immediately turned her attention back to Edward, reaching up with a free hand to cup his cheek. "What did you do, Edward," she pressed. "What happened?"
He passed a hand along his chest and abdomen and pushed Marcoh's hand out of the way. Hooking a finger in the fabric of his shirt, he slowly lifted it to reveal a raised, haphazard pink scar. Izumi slowly lifted a hand and brushed her fingers along its edge. She could feel the remnants of an alchemic reaction flickering off it and into her hand. Her jaw fell open and she looked up at him, horrified, and he slowly rolled his head side to side.
"We need to get him out of here or at the very least move him," the soldier interrupted. "Captain Buccaneer and I will keep the Homunculus at bay while you—"
Before he finished his thought, Izumi had risen to her feet and turned her attention toward the dueling pair. As she made a move to step forward, someone caught the sleeve of her jacket. She looked down as Marcoh curled his blood-tinged hands around the cloth of her jacket and shook his head. "We need to go, Mrs. Curtis. There isn't time."
She jerked her arm from his grasp and raised her hands. They would not stand a chance against the Homunculus. Not if it had harnessed the Flame Alchemist's alchemy. The moment they stepped foot outside that fort would be the moment they subjected those two men to a death sentence. Before she brought them together, however, she heard Edward's voice squeak something out at her feet. She lowered her eyes and watched as he tugged at the bottom of her pantleg and shook his head again.
She crouched down and began to slowly peel his fingers off when he muttered, "Teacher… don't."
Her face softened as she plucked the remaining fingers that clung to the fabric and held them between her hands, and took the moment to look him in the eye. With the most reassuring smile she could muster, she compromised and whispered, "I won't do anything you'd regret," and gently lowered his hand down to his chest.
He attempted to follow her as she rose to her feet, but both Miles and Marcoh were quick to prevent him from doing so. Before she could allow the look of disbelief that crossed his face to penetrate the fragile wall of strength she had constructed for herself.
"I don't want you to get involved," the soldier, Miles she believed she had heard Falman utter, yelled. "You need to get him out of here!"
She lifted her hands to her chest and held them a few inches from each other as she turned her body toward the Homunculus and soldier. "You tell me to not get involved," she murmured. "But how can I not when you urge us to leave you behind with that monster?"
"Your objective is to move Edward," he barked back. "This is our battle to fight."
Their battle, she thought idly as she witnessed the Homunculus slash at the soldier. The behemoth dodged with relative ease before swinging his automail arm and clashing it against the monster's severed blade. The force was enough to knock it back a few feet. As it caught its footing, its gaze wandered over toward them, and for a moment their eyes met.
Its free hand instantly lifted and poised to snap, but before it could follow through, the soldier connected his arm with its side.
Every moment that they fought, and every moment they remained meant that Edward was drifting dangerously close to the edge. Time was of the essence, and another moment wasted they could not afford.
"Fine," she said as her eyes scanned the ensuing battle for an opening. "We'll leave just as you ask. I only have one condition for the two of you."
"Name it."
"The second you find an opening, once the battle here is won, I want the two of you to follow behind us. There's another Homunculus beneath Briggs, one that is more powerful and terrifying than the one you are fighting now. As long as you remain in darkness, it cannot harm you."
"You want us to follow you…," Miles repeated back.
"That's right," she said. "There will be a tunnel that separates from the one you will find yourselves in. That will be the one you follow. Once you are at the surface, make your way to Ishvalan refuge that has been established just beyond Briggs. You'll find us there."
The behemoth soldier clashed with the Homunculus again and took the stagnant moment to glare over his shoulder toward them. "What are you waiting for?! Move!"
"Do we have a deal, Major," she asked of the soldier behind her.
When she did not immediately receive an answer, she fought every urge to look back over her shoulder at him and shout her demand. However, before she peeled her eyes away from the fight, she heard him mutter in agreement. A reluctant reply, but an agreement nonetheless.
"Alright," Izumi said in an even tone as she tried to hide her relief. "In that case, consider this my limited involvement." With that, she slammed her hands together and dropped to one knee. The second her hands hit the ground, the concrete split and a wave of cement rose from the cracks. The thunderous roar of the growing wave was enough to force the Homunculus and soldier to momentarily pause their fight. "Move!"
The soldier, the nearer of the two stumbled back just before the wave reached him, opening its path to the Homunculus. Realizing what she had done, the Homunculus lifted its hand and snapped. The resulting ball of fire plowed into the wall of stone and circumferenced it, building in power as it gathered momentum.
She planted her feet firmly where she stood and commanded the wall of stone to make its final change. Though it tried to move, the Homunculus's decision to launch its attack coupled with the extensive mass of concrete she had directed toward it were its downfall. The cement under her command split in two and she watched satisfactorily as they wrapped themselves around the circumference she had determined would be enough to contain it. The two halves wound themselves around until they reached the end of their reach and snapped together at the apex of the tomb she had constructed. The cracks bled and warped until they melded together, encasing the Homunculus within the structure, and completely cutting off its connection to the outside world.
The burst of fire that had once been under its command lost its shape and momentum, and promptly fizzled out the moment its concrete tomb had sealed shut. The wave of hot air that remained of the once malignant ball of fire washed over the party, a final reminder of the monster's potential. Izumi lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the burst of warmth, surveying what she could of the encapsulating concrete structure she had made. It wasn't her best work by any means, but it would be enough to contain it until the men of Briggs decided what they would do with it. For the time being, however, it would do.
A moment later, the ground beneath her feet rumbled. For a moment, she had forgotten that they were in the middle of a warzone. She spun around on her heels and headed back toward the group she had left behind, finding that Miles had already handed Edward over to Scar. As she approached them, Marcoh had finished another brief assessment of the boy, turning to her as she halted beside him. "It appears that he managed to stop the bleeding, though I won't know the extent of it until I have a proper moment to look at him."
She had vaguely heard what he said, but her eyes and thoughts were primarily directed toward Edward. His eyes had sealed themselves shut again, and his face, no longer overshadowed by the Major's shadow, was paler than what she had thought before. Large beads of sweat had formed on his brow, and he was taking quick, shallow breaths. Her eyes still glued to him, she murmured, "Is it even safe to move him?"
The fort around them violently shook, as though to answer her question. She looked up and watched as pieces of loose cement broke free from the ceiling and crashed to the floor a dozen or so paces from them.
She heard Miles begin to speak again and when she turned to face him, found that he was speaking to Major Falman. The two men ended their exchange with a salute before Miles addressed her again. "Major Falman has informed me that the tunnels that brought you here should continue to hold. We suggest that you leave now to avoid any unforeseen circumstances."
Out of the corner of her eye she saw the second soldier approach them and said, "What about the two of you? What will you do now?"
The corner of Miles's lip twitched. "We'll continue to hold down the fort."
"And make sure it doesn't cause any more trouble."
Her eyes temporarily left Edward to focus on the soldier who had taken on the Homunculus. Now that she was closer to him, she was surprised to see that he was even bigger than what he had appeared to be before. Almost as tall as Sig if she had to wager. She looked past him and toward the tomb she had enclosed it in, noting that it appeared as sound as it had been before.
He jabbed a finger over his shoulder toward the prison of stone and added, "I'll keep watch until we figure out what the hell's going on. But for now," he puffed. "You lot need to get out. The longer you stand here gawking, the worse off we'll all be."
"Major Falman," Miles continued. "Will you let us know Fullmetal's status once you return to safety?" When the man in question answered with a firm nod, he said, "My code is alpha-one-nine-tango. If you give it to the operator, you should be directly patched over to me. Once this is all over, we'll coordinate further—"
"I told you to follow after us," Izumi cut in. "We'll leave the tunnel open for you to follow behind. If you're left with that monster, there's no telling what it will do to you."
The look he offered her was reassuring, though she could see behind it the uncertainty he housed. "I haven't discounted your offer, Mrs. Curtis," he assured her over a low rumble. "But right now I need to make sure the men here are safe as well."
Before she could counter him, Marcoh stepped in with urgent purpose and placed a hand on her shoulder. Pulling her momentarily away from what she was beginning to feel was a one-sided argument, he said, "There isn't time to argue, Mrs. Curtis," as he gestured to Edward. "You know just as well as I that time is of the essence."
She turned toward the boy once more and she swallowed the alarm that had been building in her throat. His eyes had drifted closed again, and an unnatural calm had drifted across his face. She held for a moment, unwavering from her stance until she saw his chest slowly rise and fall.
"So it's time to get a move on," Buccaneer added, impatiently tapping his automail against the palm of his flesh hand as he began to herd them toward the direction they had come from.
Izumi threw another glance toward Miles, but he quickly dismissed her with a salute and a nod toward Edward. She gave him a nod while Falman returned the gesture with a salute. "Best of luck to you, then," she muttered.
He slowly lowered his hand and offered her the same. "All the best to you as well."
The moment they disappeared around the corner and away from view, Miles immediately turned his attention toward the cement dome the woman had constructed. From what he had seen, the walls were at least six inches thick, and the structure weighed at least two tons. He assumed that the Homunculus would have broken through the structure if it had the capacity to, unless it was lying in wait for the opportune moment. Though the longer it took for it to make an appearance again, the further Edward and the others would be from it. And the further they were, the safer he was.
"What are your thoughts," he mumbled as Buccaneer stopped beside him, his eyes also glued to the massive structure. "Are we going to leave it there until the outcome to this battle is more clear, or should one of us keep watch over it.
"'F we do that, you're gonna have to take the first watch," Buccaneer muttered.
Miles turned toward him and shot him a curious look. "Why do you say—"
He trailed off, eyes widening, as Buccaneer pulled his jacket apart, and revealed that the broken blade the monster had been wielding had been pushed through him, the hilt of it flush with his skin.
"Stop."
Izumi skidded to a halt and jerked around as Scar and the rest of their group slowed behind her. "Why are you stopping," she hissed, stumbling through the darkness toward where she had heard him stop. "We don't have time to be stopping here. We need to get a reasonable distance from the fort before we can—" Something brushed past her and she jumped, startled. A second person collided with her, and this time she was thrown off balance and fell. A muttered apology confirmed that it was Dr. Marcoh who was the offending second person, but before she could demand an explanation she as dragged back to her feet and violently jerked toward where Scar had stopped.
She stumbled into Marcoh and gripped his arm as he slowly lowered himself to the ground. His hands were instantly at work, pulling and tugging at something she couldn't see. When she reached forward and groped around, she felt her hands slid down a familiar metal hand and her chest constricted. "Edward—"
He was torn from her grasp and she fell forward. A hand found her shoulder and steadied her as she heard Marcoh bark, "He stopped breathing! We need to get out of here this instant!"
She stumbled forward and her hands found the cavern's wall. Izumi lifted them again and hurriedly constructed a formula that would carve out an adequate space for them. She slammed her hands together and pushed them against the rock and felt it shift beneath them. It fell away from them and she stepped into it, guiding them inside until she was sure they had all made it in.
"Get me your matches, Falman," she heard Falman bark. As he began to fumble around in his pockets, Izumi fell to her knees beside Marcoh as he tore through the fabric of Edward's jacket.
The burst of light from Falman's match illuminated the small cavern she had constructed, and her eyes immediately flickered down to the boy's stilled form. Her hand instantly found Edward's and she pushed her fingers against his wrist as Marcoh's hands slid up his neck and pressed down.
Her heart began to race and her eyes frantically darted up to Edward's face. She lifted her free hand, running it against his cheek and lightly jostled him. "Edward." Had his face been that pale before? Had the circles under his eyes been that prominent? "Edward!" She could not remember if his skin felt that clammy before, or if the ambient air was playing tricks with her senses. Was his skin really that cold when she had last felt it?
"Edward-"
Images of Edward in his youth flashed through her mind, replaying to her in series as blips of him before he had left for Briggs interspersed themselves into the chronological blend. Until the final glimpse she caught of him before he left flickered before her mind's eye, and she understood how it contrasted the pallid, expressionless face she witnessed before her.
Her hand seemed to move without instruction, and she numbly curled her fingers tighter around his wrist as someone fell to their knees beside her. But she knew that no amount of pressure would change what she could, or rather could not, feel. Because as she dazedly watched Marcoh tear through the clothing on Edward's torso to get to his chest, the gravity of what was happening slowly sank in.
And she finally understood that Edward Elric's heart had stopped beating.