A/N: Sorry this took me so long to get to! I had a number of difficult clinical rotations, and then worked on Royai Week fics and started (and eventually dropped) an FMA Big Bang fic that I might publish here later. I realized that I didn't have the time to finish it before it was due, and decided to save it to work on during a rainy day. I've even started to look at Gravity again, and want to focus on that fic as well as the second chapter to she who walks the edge of darkness. Expect something a lot sooner now that I'm hitting a less busy period :)

This chapter has a few moments where some concepts are only touched on, and they will be explained in more detail in the next chapter.

Thank you for all of the reviews, favorites, and follows! As always, let me know if there is something that feels rushed or if someone is OOC. I hope you enjoy!

Izumi Curtis had always prided herself when it came to her ability to respond when under pressure. There were few times she could recount where she hesitated at the most critical of moments, the only ones she could remember having been during her apprenticeship. But now, for the first time in a long while, she found herself frozen and her mind blank.

Move… damn it, her mind screamed as she clung more tightly to Edward's wrist to find the pulse she knew wasn't there. Move. Act. Do something!

It wasn't possible. It couldn't be. Her vision blurred and she reached up with her other arm to wipe away the tears that had begun to spill from her eyes as Marcoh's efforts failed to produce any results. "Edward…" she gasped as she pulled at his limp arm. "Edward!—"

"Scar, take over for me."

The addressed hastily stepped forward and resumed chest compressions as Marcoh angled himself around to Edward's head. He ripped the lamp from Falman's hand and held it close to the boy's face and used his other hand to peel open his eyelids. "There's still a light reflex," he gasped, and he motioned for Falman to join alongside him. "I want you to deliver breaths every ten seconds, Officer. Do not stop until I tell you to."

She blinked when Marcoh's eyes skimmed over to her and caught her dazed stare, and her mouth fell open to address him, to ask him the hows and whys and whats that had begun to engulf her mind. But then his gaze broke and he redirected his attention to a spot over her shoulder, and he swore under his breath. Her eyes followed his to the mouth of the cavern they had crafted for themselves, and she found herself glaring into the eyes of the shadowed Homunculus they had faced prior.

Its eyes slowly scanned over them until they landed on Edward, and its many mouths formed into frowns. As it continued to watch the boy, a dark tendril broke away from its shapeless form and slithered across the ground. Once it reached the threshold of their egress, however, an explosion of alchemic energy ignited it and it drew its arm back with a hiss. It began to grind its teeth and shot its venomous glare toward the party.

A surge of anger ripped through her, and before Izumi could rationalize with herself, she leapt to her feet and tramped toward the Homunculus. "Are you not satisfied," she spat, and it recoiled with surprise. "Haven't all of you done enough?!" It curled back and hissed as she toed the line that separated them from its container, her face inches from one of its multiple eyes. "You monsters don't know what's coming, or what I'm capable of. I won't rest until your existence is wiped off the face of the earth."

"Mrs. Curtis—"

She bared her teeth and slowly edged her foot away from the line she had toed.

Its eyes narrowed, and its lips split into a series of cheeky grins, as though it was challenging her proposal. Izumi bit back a bitter laugh. "I won't be starting with you, Homunculus," she said as she slammed her hands together. "I'll come for you once the Homunculus known as Wrath is dead." She caught of glimpse of its mouths falling ajar moments before the bedrock she beckoned forth plugged the hole they had hidden in closed, shutting them off from the rest of the tunnel.

She could feel its weakened presence on the other side of the rock and she hissed with contempt. Her heart had given way and opened up to allow the hate that had been churning in her mind to slowly seep in, and she curled her hands into fists. They aimed to take everything from her, threatened the boys she had come to call her own, and threatened to destroy the family she had built for herself.

"Mrs. Curtis—"

Marcoh's second call snapped her from her thoughts, and she glanced over her shoulder to find him beckoning her toward him. She left the wall she had constructed behind and collapsed to the ground next to him. "I'm sorry," she said as she breathed out and grabbed Edward's wrist again. Every pump of his chest pushed another burst of blood through his vein. It was artificial, but still there. She swallowed the anger she had felt when her eyes traveled down to his pallor face, and she remembered the reason behind her outburst. And right now, he needed her more than ever. "I'm here now. What do you need me to do?"

"I'm going to need you beside me if someone needs you to take over," Marcoh said as he dug his hand into the pocket of his jacket. "Because right now we're running rapidly through the list of options."

"I'm getting really sick of this."

Lust drew out a long sigh before opening her eyes to peer wearily toward the sibling who had taken residence in the small office she had claimed. Envy tapped their foot impatiently and huffed when she lifted a hardhearted brow. Throwing their hands into the air, they exclaimed, "Do you want to play Grumman for a while? Because I'm this close," Envy said, holding their thumb and forefinger a few millimeters apart, "From losing it. If I have to hear another question about what we're going to do in regard to the compromised trade agreement with Creta, I'm going to lose it."

She stole a careful glance toward the clock on the wall, confirming that it an hour had passed since office hours had begun. Not only had Zampano and Jerso failed to bring Alphonse and Winry to her as instructed, but she also had to endure Envy running their mouth for half of it. Lust resisted the urge to rub the throbbing temple their rants had induced and instead leaned back in her chair. "And what exactly do you want me to do about it, Envy? Father is the one dictating our moves. You've been allotted the roles of Grumman and Wrath because of your design. You are the only one who is capable of maintaining a different façade."

Envy's nostrils flared and they put their hands on their hips. "And now I'm down to only playing the decrepit old geezer Father put in office after we officially nixed Wrath. That was the only source of entertainment I had up until that point. Playing 'Fuhrer-elect Grumman' is like playing a kazoo. There's nothing of value to it!"

Lust nodded to try and convey some sort of faux understanding toward her sibling's plight. The role was certainly one where they had to participate in political discussion rather than straight up manipulate it. They actually had to think for once.

"Until Grumman can fit more comfortably into the role he was designed, you will have to continue to play the part. That is the unfortunate reality of the situation, Envy."

"Easy for you to say," they grumbled. "You have the luxury of doing anything you want which, by the way," a small smile tugged at their lips, "How is it going with the Fullmetal brat's younger brother and his girlfriend?"

"How do you think it's going," she muttered, gesturing toward the clock on the wall. "They're already an hour late without a single call from their assigned guard."

"Sounds like you have an issue with control," Envy retorted. "If I were in your place, I'd—"

"I didn't ask your opinion, Envy," she said as she deflated her sibling. "It wouldn't surprise me if they were glued to the radio listening to the skirmish between Briggs and Drachma. Frankly, it might be a blessing in disguise."

"Why's that?"

"I've already had to deal with that little bitch's high-pitched whine for days," Lust contended as her most recent encounters with Winry slowly trickled back into her mind. Just the thought of her exacerbated the dull throb that had already seated itself inside her head and she rubbed her aching temples. "I have no doubt that she'd be in here worried sick about Edward's status."

"Sounds like a nightmare," Envy said as a crackle of sparks accompanied their words. The pitch of their voice had changed drastically toward the end of Envy's statement, and Lust did not have to look to know what they were trying to taunt her with. A glance toward the periphery of her vision confirmed that 'Winry Rockbell' had taken Envy's place and she scowled.

"Don't make me use you as an outlet for my anger, Envy. Your regenerative abilities are tempting enough."

Envy's lower lip popped out and a quick change reverted them to their usual state. "Humph, you're no fun." They crossed their arms. "The other Lust would've gotten a kick out of that."

"The 'other Lust' probably didn't have a constant migraine," she countered. "And you can go have your fun by playing around as Grumman while I try to figure out what to do with my multiple headaches."

"I'd rather not," they said, leaning back against the desk.

She sighed but did not argue the matter further, lowering her eyes to the papers she had spread out in front of her. It was trickier than she thought it would be to place Catalina where she wasn't directly overseeing her, yet had ready access to her. Lust pressed the tip of her pen against the paper and then lifted it before pressing it to the paper again. Not only were the thoughts of what had occurred with Catalina clouding her mind, but now the events that led up to the confrontation between herself and Winry had shoved their way inside.

"Lust…"

The sound of Pride's voice sent chills racing through Lust's spine, and she instantly sat at attention as its shadowy tendrils oozed through the cracks beneath the windows. Despite her familiarity with her eldest sibling, she still found that she could not shake the primitive fear the Lieutenant's body inadvertently reverted to after discovering who Pride was. She leaned back in her chair, eyes carefully following the shadows as they wound themselves across the floor and spiraled up the legs of her desk. One of the red, all-seeing eyes opened as they spread across her desk and she lifted her brows. "I wasn't expecting you, Pride. I assumed you and the former Mrs. Bradley would be too occupied with the last of Wrath's affairs for you to slip away."

"Unfortunately, that has been the case," it said. "I was able to slip away for a few moments to deliver you a message."

"'A message,'" she echoed as Envy perked up.

"Yes," it said. "I've come to inform you of some… troubling news."

Her brows knitted together. "News? Of what sort?"

"The Fullmetal Alchemist is dead…"

Pride's words took a few moments for her to process, but once they had and they settled heavily in her mind, her heart stopped.

"Your silence is… surprising," it mused and its many eyes narrowed.

She opened her mouth to respond but found that her throat had run dry, and suddenly the words that sat on the edge of her tongue dissolved. The Fullmetal Alchemist was dead… Pride had said it so effortlessly, so without care that the revelation had taken her by surprise. Just thinking the words stirred a bout of dread inside her gut, and she had to push down the alarmingly overwhelming dread that had climbed into the back of her mouth.

"I'm…" she murmured, surprised by her reaction. No doubt the Lieutenant, who had remained as eerily quiet as she had in recent days, had some form of influence over her response. In some ways, she resented the unheeded tug on her heartstrings it had produced, but on the other she was relieved to feel the pang of surprise. It meant that the Lieutenant, however silence she had been, was still present as she had intended for her to be. She reached up and grasped a handful of her uniform in her hands, willing the unsolicited pound of her heart against her ribcage to slow, and drew in a deep breath. "I'm… surprised."

"As was I," Pride continued. "But there is no mistaking what I saw within the tunnels beneath Briggs."

"You saw it?" Another pang rippled through her chest.

"I sensed intruders beneath Briggs. When I went to investigate, I found that a small party had snuck past my line of sight and had infiltrated the fort from below."

"Does this party include Izumi Curtis," she asked, deflecting her growing feeling of dread toward a pen on her desk. She picked it up and balanced it between her thumb and forefinger. Anything to distract her body from what her mind was beginning to accept.

"I am unaware of what her appearance may be. But," Pride said, "A woman that would likely be her was there, along with a soldier, a doctor, and an Ishvalan man with a scar on his face."

A… scar? "Interesting…" she mused, dropping the pen in favor of the new information Pride had stepped forward with. For the first time since their encounter, she caught one of its many eyes in her line of sight. "You're saying that Scar is among them?"

"It would appear so…"

Admittedly, Scar had become less of a priority to her after trying to manage Alphonse and Winry. She would begrudgingly accept the fact that he had slipped from her grasp and would face the consequences of her incompetence later. But at that moment two questions hung in her mind: Why he had joined up with them and, more importantly, how that fate had befallen Edward Elric, if that was truly what had happened. The pull in her chest was becoming unbearably taut. Attempting to remedy it, she began to drum her fingers methodically across the desktop, much to Envy's amusement.

"How did it happen," she asked. She was surprised by how embarrassingly weak her voice had sounded and swallowed to rid her throat of the lump that had begun to form. "How did Edward Elric die?"

"I only managed to catch a brief glimpse of the boy," Pride said. "The one you're suggesting was Izumi Curtis sealed them behind a wall of stone before I could further probe the situation. Before we were separated, however, she remarked about how we had 'done enough.' If I were you, I would contact Wrath. He was likely one of the last to have contact with the boy."

"If that's at all possible. They're in the middle of a warzone right now. I wasn't planning to hear from Wrath until the battle has been decided. And with what you've just told me, Pride, it's possible that I won't have a status update from him until much later, assuming he went after them," Lust replied.

"I had yet to sense him in the tunnels beneath Briggs, but I will continue to monitor the situation once I am able to return."

"Fair enough," she reasoned as she resumed the thoughtless task of tapping her pen against her desk.

Pride's eyes wandered toward her rhythmic tick, though no mention was made of it. Instead, eyes never leaving the pen, Pride mused, "It does not bode well for us, losing another sacrifice."

"I know that," she retorted, more bite in her words than she had intended there to be. "I'm already wracking my brain trying to figure out how we can correct this… situation." There was no purpose telling him or letting on that, though her mind had briefly wandered to other options they could pursue in terms of sacrifices, it immediately returned to the eldest Elric boy. Toward the growing lump in her throat that she could not swallow. She had given little attention to the stunned, though sluggish response to the news the Lieutenant had. Surely she was feeling what Hawkeye would feel in real time. It was the only explanation for the heart-crushing pain she felt in the center of her chest.

Lust curled the fingers of her free hand into a fist and dug her nails into the flesh of her palm. Anything to deviate her mind from the boy. From Hawkeye. From the realization that their plans had momentarily taken a backseat in favor of the emotional response that was slowly building in Hawkeye's soul.

"Lust."

She jerked her head up and Pride's eyes narrowed. "I will continue to scope the tunnels once I am able. I want you to move forward with your preparations for the late Fuhrer's funeral. Keep Alphonse Elric close, lest he retaliate in an unsightly display. And you, Envy," he continued, turning his eyes toward their unwilling sibling, "You are to continue masquerading as General Grumman until we are able to manage him."

Envy groaned but said nothing further, folding their arms over their chest with a child-like huff. Lust was thankful they would not argue the point. The air was stifling and the thought of continuing the conversation made her feel nauseous. When Pride's eyes wandered toward her again, she nodded.

His glare remained on her for a few moments longer than she felt necessary, as though he were trying to find something in her expression that could lead him to continue the conversation further. His eyes narrowed and the many-toothed mouths that littered his shadows drew downward, an indication that whatever he was looking for had been found. But rather than announce it, the shadows that made his presence known slowly began to recede. "I will keep you all informed of the matter, so do not stray too far from where my voice can reach you."

A feeling of uneasiness momentarily misplaced the unwarranted dread that had settled in the back of Lust's throat as the shadows melted down the walls and across the floor. "Do know, however, that I will continue to be watching."

For one moment, she thought she had seen a sinister glean in the reddened eye that remained a moment too long. But before she could catch it again, Pride was gone, leaving her to dwell on the subtle warning he had so effortlessly laced his words with.

Envy let out a low whistle and roused Lust from her internal musing. "How's that for an interesting turn of events," they muttered as they lifted a hand. "On one hand, I'm disappointed that the pipsqueak is out of the game. I was actually starting to like the kid too. He posed an interesting challenge for us. But on the other," they said, raising their other hand as a malicious smirk split their lips, "I can already tell that the angst-fest is going to be phenomenal. Oh!" They pushed off from the desk and spread their arms out wide as sparks crackled around them. "What do you think of this," Envy exclaimed as the rush of energy morphed them into an exact replica of Edward Elric. "How about this," they cackled, thrusting a thumb toward themselves, "I'll take on the role of Edward Elric next and—"

"You idiot!" Lust shot up from her desk with so much force that her chair toppled over behind her and she slapped a hand to her forehead. Her stomach lurched and she pressed her other hand against the desk to steady herself.

Envy's brows knitted together and they reverted to their usual form. They pressed their hands against their hips. "Geez, what's up with you? It was just a thought—"

Lust pushed violently past them and staggered toward the adjoining office's door. "Get back to your post. You're wasting time," she hissed as she fumbled with the doorknob until she managed to get a good grip on it and pushed it open. "And wait for Pride's next briefing." She could feel their confused glare boring into the back of her skull even after she slammed the door behind her and stumbled into the empty room.

She buried her face into her hands and gritted her teeth as another overwhelming wave of emotion rushed over her. Lust understood the consequences of bonding her essence to the Lieutenant's, and knew what would entail as she devoured her soul. She found herself questioning her hastiness now, however, as it became clear to her that the all too human emotions Hawkeye carried were something she was not fully equipped for. The worst part was that the Lieutenant remained silent through it all, allowing her emotions to demonstrate what was in her heart.

Loss hurt. It hurt. The soul-grinding, heart-wrenching emotions that clenched at her heart and cut the air from her lungs were agonizing. It felt as though the world was spinning around her, and that she was sinking into oblivion as Pride's words played over in her mind again and again.

Edward Elric was dead. The child that she –no, the Lieutenant- had watched overcome every obstacle, every challenge he had been faced with was gone. The realization was overwhelming her, and the tears that had been burning her eyes began to freely fall.

No…

No...!

"No!"

Riza's knees buckled and she crumpled to the ground as she broke into a fit of sobs.

"Captain Buccaneer, you need to—"

"Not now," Buccaneer growled, shoving an arm out to prevent Miles from taking a step closer. He closed his hand around the hilt of the piercing blade to hold it in place, his eyes never wandering from the tomb the woman alchemist had built around the Homunculus. "We can't take our eyes off it. We don't know what else that monster is capable of."

They couldn't take their eyes off it, that much was true. The battle still raged around them. Miles knew they were between a rock and a hard place, and with Buccaneer injured, a third element was added to their growing list of imminent concerns. His eyes swept over the structure, looking for any signs of deficiencies in the stone that would indicate that the Homunculus had a means of escape. But the moments he stole to survey it proved uneventful, and he was filled with a small sense of relief when he realized that the structure was sound. Once he realized that it showed no signs of giving, he turned his attention toward Buccaneer and the status of the fort.

He tore his eyes from the structure to inspect his wounded companion. It was clear to him that Buccaneer was slowly declining into a state of shock. The pallid shade his face had taken on and the beads of sweat that had accumulated on his brow spoke volumes. The ever-determined, raw expression he had adopted so long ago, however, remained ever present on the Captain's face.

Before he could argue the point further, though, the sound of boots on the ground drew their attention from the tomb. As the squadron neared them, the one toward the front of the pack spotted the Captain's wound and exclaimed, "Sir, are you alright? What happened—"

Buccaneer waved them away and grunted, "I'm fine! Focus on the fort! One soldier down should be the least of your worries."

"But that's just it, sir. We came to find and deliver the fort's status to you once we realized you had left your post."

"Well," he growled. "What's the status? What's happened that necessitates coming to find me?"

The soldier delivered a salute. "Sir, we've come to tell you that we've managed to subdue the Drachman forces. The attack in its entirety is over."

Wrath hissed as another flood of Mustang's combative advance tore through him, and he pushed back against his struggle for control.

An immeasurable amount of energy had been wasted for something that should have otherwise been a simple task. Having to dig through Mustang's memories for the remnants of his alchemic knowledge for a groundbreaking technique was already a difficult task to accomplish, even more so now when the rage-filled Colonel was making every effort to stow it away from Wrath's grasp.

When it finally came to him, he had to draw the transmutation circle in short bursts of light using the flames of Mustang's he had tamed, and the blood that continued to trickle from the wound that had been inflicted on his eye. But when it was finally completed, Wrath was able to destroy the ground beneath his feet and slip into the tunnel undetected. He knew it would only be a matter of time before the Captain and Major discovered his escape and came looking for him, but as long as he reached Elric and the crew that had slipped past Pride's watchful eye before they could, he would consider it a victory.

Wrath clapped a hand over the damaged eye, digging his fingernails into his skin to distract him from the agonizing pain its path of healing had elicited. "You don't know when to give up, do you," he snarled, jaw clenched, as the Colonel continued to fight tooth-and-nail against his control. Unrelenting and without heeding his warning, Mustang thrashed back against his slipping hold of control, and he momentarily faltered. He slammed his free hand against the tunnel wall and steadied himself.

"You… monster!" The Colonel's voice exploded past Wrath's lips before he had the chance to smother him again. Vying for control suddenly felt impossible as the weight of the Colonel's violent retaliation began to overpower him. No longer steady enough to keep himself standing, Wrath's knees buckled beneath him and he collapsed onto the ground.

"I won't let you get away with this!"

Mustang's fingers clawed into the flesh above the still healing eye. Wrath tore his hand from the wall and ripped the other away before he could cause any more damage, and he slowly sank to his knees.

Had he known that the Colonel would fight so valiantly against his actions, he would have done what he did sooner, when the Colonel was still an entirely different entity. But now, he found, his connection to him made his emotions harder to control, and the anger and despair that was consuming the Colonel began to consume him...

A glint of light in his periphery caught his attention, and he gave the Colonel one final shove temporarily granting him the control that was rightfully his. His body trembled as Mustang continued to fight, and he carefully lifted his eye to find that the light was beginning to draw closer. And with it was a familiar man clad in white.

"Well, well. It looks like you've hit a snag."

Wrath gritted his teeth, unamused by the casual demeanor Kimblee exuded while he continued to struggle. He pushed back against Mustang, shoving him far enough into the recesses of his mind to solidify his claim to power. "What do you want, Kimblee?"

The mercenary lifted his brows, unimpressed, and said, "I've begun to retreat from the front lines, just as your Father ordered. I'd suspect that by now the Drachman forces have exhausted their supply, and should be close to defeat right about now." A smile tugged at the edge of his lip. "It appears you did not fare as well as I, 'General.'"

It took every ounce of self-control Wrath had to not rip the life from Kimblee, and he reminded himself that the blade he had used had been abandoned when it had been thrust through Buccaneer. He would not accept failure. Not yet. The group that had taken Edward was still within reach. His soul would not settle until he saw the boy again: whether he was dead or alive.

"Find… him," he managed to ground out.

Kimblee's brows arched. "What was that?"

"I want you… to find Edward Elric," he snapped.

Unfazed by Wrath's obvious struggle, Kimblee folded his arms over his chest, the hint of a smile on his face. "I thought you were supposed to be watching him, Homunculus. Isn't that the reason you brought him North?"

Wrath snarled. "He was taken from me by Izumi Curtis and Scar."

His statement piqued Kimblee's interest. "You're referring to the Ishvalan that's been terrorizing state alchemists, am I correct? The tabloids have been referring to him as such."

"That's right… If you capture Elric, you can do whatever you please to the rest of their pathetic party. Including the Ishvalan."

Kimblee pressed his lips together and mulled over Wraths' proposition. After a few moments of silence, he shrugged. "I guess it would give me something to do while I lay low for a while. Do you suppose they'll seek refuge in the Ishvalan settlement that's been established here," he mused. "I think it's definitely worth a look. At the very least, it would be fascinating to see whether any of them were unfortunate enough to slip past me in Ishval—"

"Do whatever you think is necessary. Take the chimeras you brought with you if need be. Just…" he grunted and clawed his fingers into the dirt. "Just bring the Elric boy back, dead or alive."

Kimblee's lips curled into a smile and he flexed his hands. "That can certainly be arranged."

"The attack happened sometime last night. Your neighbors to the north, I believe the nation is called 'Drachma,' surprised the northern Briggs fort."

The words were flowing into their minds, but they weren't entirely processing them. They had experienced war before, it was something they had learned when they lived in the east. The tales and stories that returned from the frontlines of Ishval had become unfortunately commonplace, parts of their childhood that they had grown up with. They had later learned that the 'war,' though, was nothing but a senseless massacre, and was not as evenly weighed as they had been led to believe.

But now they were confronted with an equally atrocious beast. The attack, from what they understood, was an act of war. And right there in the middle of it was Edward Elric.

"From what I understand, the fort struck back quickly and has been holding its ground. But I haven't been able to get access to a radio for a few hours. We could turn on—"

"There isn't time," Winry said as she jumped to her feet. "We have to go now."

Alphonse was right behind her, but the overload of information May had supplied them with stalled his thoughts for a few moments longer. The realization that his brother was in danger and that Amestris was at war, a convenient development given the nation's vulnerability, was staggering. When Winry brushed past him and toward the door, Alphonse's hand shot out from his side and gripped her arm, stopping her in her tracks.

Winry's head snapped around and gave him a questioning glance. He knew how deeply she cared about him, a different form of love that matched his own love for his brother. But his years of travel and snap-fast decisions gave him the ability to rationalize his thoughts before jumping into the jaw of a situational beast that would otherwise devour both he and Edward. Something he knew his brother and Winry, when confronted with that overwhelming fear of loss, would sometimes lack. Then her face softened and she said, "Alphonse, please. We… we have to go."

He wanted to go just as badly as she. He wanted to jump on the next train north to fight for his brother and bring him home.

"Wait," he pleaded. "Just… just hang on for a second. We need to listen to what else she has to say before we go charging in."

Winry stiffened and the stubbornness he was all too familiar with began to bleed through. He knew, he knew, he knew that they would go. That they would run headlong into Lust's domain, into a ploy he could only begin to imagine she had some involvement in, or at the very least some knowledge of. They would confront the Homunculus again and beg her for information, desperate and broken.

He knew… that they might be setting themselves up to be heartbroken. To find that, despite their pleas, the stone-hearted monster that had taken the Lieutenant's body would find little to sympathize with. They were no strangers to Lust's deceit, and the moment would be opportune for her to tear them down again.

Winry blinked her eyes a few times to rid them of the wetness that had collected in them and slowly breathed out. He was impeding her, impeding them, from Edward.

And suddenly the rationale he had so effortlessly collected over the years began to fracture, and the gravity of May's words finally sank into his mind as the realization overtook him. His brother, the one who had signed his life away to the military so that they could get their lives back, was trapped in an active war zone with a monster. One that would not hesitate to throw him into the fray.

He turned toward May and saw her eyes widen, and he knew that she had given them everything that she knew. Winry pulled her arm from his slackening grasp and he focused on her again. Her eyes were pleading, begging him to follow.

"I'll go with you." Alphonse turned around again and May nodded. "You're worried about confronting the Homunculus again, right? If the three of us go together, we should be able to hold our ground just fine."

"Wait," Alphonse protested. "If you go, then she'll know that you're working with us. We could lose you as one of our messengers."

May's brows knitted together and opened her mouth to respond, but Winry shook her head. "He's right, May. If things go downhill, we need someone to tell Ms. Christmas and Mr. Grumman. We… we can go ourselves." May defiantly pressed her lips together, but her argument was stopped when Winry gave her a tiny smile. "I didn't mean it like that," she clarified. "We're still pawns to them and they need us whether we realize it or not. We'll be fine."

May sighed. "Then if you're planning on going," she said as she raised her palm. "Take Xiao Mei with you." The small panda leapt from her shoulder onto her hand and she held her toward Alphonse. "She'll be my eyes and ears, and she'll know where to find me. I'll stay close by just in case."

It wasn't the best scenario, but it was one of the few options they had left. "Okay," Alphonse said as he offered her his hand. "But only if she stays inside of my armor and doesn't-"

Surprised by his sudden bout silence, May took a step away back and looked up at him, and instantly noticed that the fiery, red orbs of light that had replaced his eyes had vanished. She barely had a moment to spare as she jumped out of his path a heartbeat later, narrowly avoiding him as he crashed to the ground.

Edward gasped and rocketed up into a sitting position, clutching at the wound on his stomach. But when he did not feel the shredded cloth or slick slip of the blood that had pooled around his abdomen, he looked down and found that the wound was no longer there. His clothing was untorn and the blood he had seen when he had attempted –no, had successfully- sealed his wound shut.

He lifted his shirt half-expecting to find a scar where the blade pierced him, but once again found himself puzzled by the lack of a mark where it had been. Edward's brows knitted together as a plethora of questions began to flood his mind. He had suffered a life-threatening injury just moments before and had found himself surrounded by the team that had haphazardly brought themselves together to travel north. He remembered speaking with Teacher and in his mind's eye could even vaguely make out what she was saying to him. But now he found himself without her, without Briggs, without—

The gentle rustle of grass tore his attention from his thoughts and he lifted his head, for the first time since he had woken up noticing that he really wasn't at Briggs. Nor was he anywhere he could immediately place. He jerked his head around, trying to find some indication that would point him toward the reason why he had suddenly found himself lying in the middle of a grassy knoll. But everywhere he looked, he only saw grass and hills that stretched as far as the eye could see, all of it accented by a clear blue sky and large, billowing clouds.

He was about to lay back and close his eyes and try to will himself to sleep in the hopes that he could wake himself from the dream he was clearly having when something black caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Edward turned and found that someone was suddenly there alongside him, just a few meters away.

He immediately recognized the short, black hair and military issued jacket of the individual that stood before him and the hairs on the back of his neck stood one end. "… Mustang?" The addressed didn't return Edward's greeting, instead lifting his hand toward the sun. He watched, still dazed, as Mustang closed his hand and opened it again, repeating the gesture without explanation. It was as though he were trying to catch something… but exactly what Edward wasn't sure.

Pushing himself up onto his knees, Edward unsteadily rose to his feet, eyes never leaving Mustang. Just as he was about to take a step toward him, the latter, without turning toward him, casually muttered, "Hey, Fullmetal."

Edward froze but Mustang did not turn to face him. An odd sense of calm had settled between them, as though the battle they had just endured had not taken place…-

Edward's heart skipped a beat and the thought elicited a memory of the battle they had shared and he looked down at his abdomen, his hand feeling around his stomach for an obvious defect. But when he could not visually detect or feel any abnormalities, he looked up, suspicious of the state he found them suspended in.

It felt as though mere minutes had passed since they had confronted each other, and seconds since Edward had sustained a devastating blow from the blade Wrath had wielded. But the place he found them was not Fort Briggs. The earth was no longer fracturing around them. Instead, they were both situated in a place of serenity, with rolling hills and clear blue skies that were oddly familiar to Edward…

"The outskirts of Resembool," Mustang muttered as he lowered his hand. "That's what you're trying to figure out, right? Where we are?"

Edward looked up, and saw for the first time that Mustang was looking directly toward him. However, when their eyes met, his heart constricted. Rather than the cool, dark-eyed gaze he was so accustomed to seeing, Edward instead found himself staring directly into an eye socket void of the eye it once held. Mustang arched a brow, unaware of his deficiency while simultaneously questioning Edward's unusual stare.

Edward swallowed.

They had been fighting just minutes before, hands at the other's throat. And now they found themselves on a neutral playing field where Edward's wound had been healed and the eye Wrath possessed was gone. Without taking his eyes off the apparition, Edward slowly reached over and pinched himself on the arm. Though it had hurt, the shock was not enough to rouse him from the dream he was clearly experiencing.

"Yeah," he uttered in reply. "That's exactly what I was thinking." If this was a dream like he had assumed, then it meant Wrath could not hurt him. It also meant, however, that he was in an altered state of mind. One that he could not readily stir himself from. He hoped that the longer it drew out, however, the more likely it would be that he would wake up. For the time being, he supposed he could get whatever answer his mind was clearly trying to guide him toward.

"Is it really Mustang I'm talking to?"

Mustang's expression changed, and the cool demeanor he had possessed melted away to reveal genuine confusion. "Of course it is, Fullmetal. Who else would I be?"

"Last time I checked you were being controlled like a puppet by the Homunculus, Wrath."

Mustang's brows knitted together, tossing the seemingly absurd statement around in his mind as though he had no recollection of what Edward was saying. But then, after a few moments passed, something clicked in Mustang's mind, and the bemused air around him took on a more solemn weight. Pressing his lips together, he angled himself away from Edward and averted his glare. "Right… I remember now."

Edward took a cautious step toward the Colonel. "Are you remembering because I do, or are you remembering because you remember?"

The Colonel's lip twitched. "That seems like a silly question, Fullmetal, especially considering that you know this is all a dream."

A frown tugged at Edward's lips. When the Colonel turned away, he pinched the skin on his left arm to wake himself. Despite feeling the sensation in his arm, his body seemingly refused to stir, and he couldn't help but wonder if there was some purpose to that dream, or if the injury he had received had been more lethal than he had realized…

He lifted a hand to his face and tried a more frantic approach, slapping his hand against his cheek. But once again he failed to stir, and he began to panic. He drew his hand back again, but before he contacted his cheek again, Mustang caught hold of his wrist. When he turned toward him, the fictitious Colonel shook his head. "Your heart is still beating and there is still air in your lungs. You're alive, Fullmetal."

Edward yanked his arm from the Colonel's grip and backed away a few steps. His hand circled around his wrist and he rubbed at it, casting a wary glare toward the hallucination.

The one-eyed Colonel seemed untroubled, almost sympathetic of Edward's response, and did not pursue the matter further. Instead, as though he had decided that Edward would not attempt to wake himself again, he once again turned his focus toward the sky.

"So why am I here then? If I'm alive, why am I here talking to a... ghost?" The word was more difficult to form than Edward had anticipated. It stung the back of his throat uttering it. It was an appropriate definition for the apparition that stood in front of him; however, the reference directed toward his commanding officer seemed wrong.

"Your guess would be as good as mine. Clearly there is something your mind is trying to remind you of something. And for whatever reason, the time to muddle through it is now."

"Like what," he pressed. "How can I know something without knowing? Like I'm repressing something?"

The Colonel moved his shoulders. "Think about it."

Edward hissed and raked his fingers through his hair, trying to find whatever the mental block was that had been impeding his thoughts. But no matter what he did, he couldn't grasp an incomplete theory or thought that had been weighing on him. Nothing came to mind. What was this apparition getting at, and why of all times was it now?

"Have you figured it out yet?"

Edward glared at Mustang. "No. I haven't."

Mustang lifted a brow. "You seemed awfully bothered by those nightmares you've had as of late, right? Perhaps those are something you need to be reading into."

Edward pressed his lips together and stared down at his feet. Nightmares...? Where would he even begin?

There had been so many, so much going on in them that it was difficult to remember where one ended and the next began. He could remember Lust driving her claws into him, and how he had attacked Winry after he had woken up. There was another where Lust and Wrath mocked him for taking Al and Winry hostage. Then there was the dream where he had encountered Lust –no, the Lieutenant- in Xerxes. And then, finally, the dream he was having at that moment.

Wait…

He glanced up to find that a knowing smirk had crossed Mustang's face and he slowly backpedaled. The ruins of Xerxes. He kept coming back to the fractured transmutation circle, no matter where he went he always returned to it. Edward had never found any meaning behind it, he hadn't seen anything on it that was pertinent to what he needed to know. So then… why did he keep going back to it? Why did it continue to show up no matter what he did? And why had Lieutenant Hawkeye been there?

"The ruins of Xerxes," he muttered. "Is that what you're trying to get at? That transmutation circle I saw?"

Mustang shrugged. "It could be. You're the one who came to this conclusion on your own."

Edward clenched his teeth. "It'd be really nice if you helped me out a little."

"I didn't take you on as my subordinate so that I could give you handouts, Fullmetal."

Edward fought the urge to call him out on referring to himself as the real Mustang, but instead shook his head and took a deep breath. Mustang's ghost was leading him somewhere; he recognized the look he had given him earlier. "So," he started again. "The transmutation circle in Xerxes has more to it than I thought before?" The Colonel's brow lifted and Edward nodded. "No, it definitely did," he added with more confidence, and Mustang's expression softened. "It's been ruminating in the back of my mind all this time. There's a conclusion there that I just haven't tapped into yet, right?"

For the first time since their conversation began, Mustang gave him an affirmative nod.

"The thing I don't get is why the Lieutenant was there. What purpose did she serve being there if I was focusing on the transmutation circle itself?"

"An unfinished transmutation circle and a human being possessed by a Homunculus." Mustang turned away from him and lifted his hand toward the sky. He opened his hand and then furled it into a fist. "It's an interesting combination for a dream, wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah it's…" Edward trailed off and furrowed his brow as Mustang repeated the motion again. "What are you doing?"

"Both images hold a certain significance to them, Fullmetal. You haven't seen the whole picture yet." The Colonel opened and closed his hand again. "There's a connection there that you aren't seeing."

Edward scrutinized the Colonel's action, watching him continue to furl and unfurl his fist. Every time it appeared like he was trying to wrap his fingers around the sun. As though he was trying to take hold of it.

"You're right, Fullmetal," Mustang said as he interrupted his thoughts. "What I'm alluding to is like trying to swallow the sun," Mustang muttered as he opened his hand. "You see it there in front of you, just within arm's reach. But when you try to grip it," he continued, curling his fingers into a fist, "You realize that it's actually impossible."

"What are you… talking about?" His focused turned to Mustang's closed hand, still metaphorically wrapped around the sun. Swallowing it…? He didn't understand.

"Clearly you do because I'm continuing to repeat this motion until it comes to you again. You've pondered it before. What does the sun mean in alchemical terms? The moon? The fractured pentagram in Xerxes?"

Edward pressed his lips together. There was some familiarity to Mustang's questions. As though he had thought, subconsciously at the very least, about what he was asking. "The sun…" he began. "It means 'the soul.' And the moon is the alchemical symbol that represents 'the mind.'"

"That's right."

"And the fractured pentagram I saw… I thought it was similar to the Philosopher's Stone transmutation circle I saw in the basement of the fifth laboratory. But something about it was different. The soul, the mind… and a Philosopher's Stone?"

"But there's more, isn't there, Fullmetal?"

Edward looked up at the apparition and nodded. "It was different from that equation. I remember that much. For a second just now, I thought that the association I made in my dream related to the Philosopher's Stone that made up a Homunculus, and that was chance that Lieutenant Hawkeye appeared. But now I'm beginning to think that that isn't entirely true."

Mustang nodded. "And what exactly are you thinking about it now?"

"I didn't see Lieutenant Hawkeye as Lust. Well, in some ways I did," Edward explained. "Her eyes were the same color as Lust's. But when she spoke, there was no denying that it was Hawkeye. She was… human." The Colonel's expression turned expectant, urging Edward to finish his thought.

Edward scrunched his brows and turned his eyes toward a patch of grass as his thoughts continued to flow interrupted. "A human being is composed of three parts. The soul, the mind, and the body. My mind kept going back to that transmutation circle because I was trying to create an association that made sense to me using what I saw. I recognized the 'soul' and the 'mind,' but a Philosopher's Stone along with those two makes a human being. And now I'm realizing that it's the 'body' too that makes a human who they are. And the mural itself was made of stone, which is the symbol for 'body.' Therefore," he continued, "That stone in Xerxes was demonstrating another array for human transmutation."

The Colonel chuckled. "See, Fullmetal? All without me having to spoon feed it to you."

The corner of Edward's lip twitched. "Yeah, yeah. But one thing I still don't understand is why you were trying to swallow the su—" Edward stopped mid-thought when he lifted his eyes and found himself standing in front of a slab of stone. Its sudden appearance startled him and he stumbled away. He whirled around, trying to catch sight of Mustang again.

He realized, however, that it wasn't just the appearance of that 'slab' that had changed in his surroundings. Rather, everything had changed completely.

Everywhere he looked, he saw an endless expanse of white. Not too unlike when he had—

"It's been a long time hasn't it, Edward Elric?"

Edward jumped and twisted around to find another Gate directly opposite the one he had appeared in front of. And in front of that was…

"Al...? Alphonse?"

A grin split Alphonse's lips and he shook his head. "You're only partially right. This is your brother's body," he said as he clapped a hand over his heart. "But your brother's soul is not here."

The hairs on the back of Edward's neck stood on end. He should have recognized that smile the moment he saw it. He swallowed the bolus of dread that had caught in his throat and narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing hanging out in Alphonse's body, Truth?"

It tilted its head. "You and your brother are connected, remember?" It thrust its thumb over its shoulder. "His Gate is here and yours," it redirected its pointer finger behind Edward. "Is over there."

Edward clicked his tongue and followed its point, only to find that his view was impeded by something large and metallic. He stumbled a few surprised steps back but stopped when he recognized what had appeared behind him. "Alphonse—"

Edward was within arm's length of his brother now, and he extended his arm to close the distance between them. But when he made a move to grab hold of his brother's arm, his hand fazed through the armor and Edward, still driven forward by his momentum, stumbled clumsily through him.

He caught his footing and spun around to find that Alphonse had not been disturbed. His soul-fire eyes stared directly through Edward and toward the body that sat cross-legged behind him. Edward glanced over his shoulder toward Alphonse's physical body and then turned his attention toward his brother again. "Al," he began again. He waved his hand in front of his brother's face. "Alphonse, hey!"

"He cannot hear or see you."

Startled by the sound of the familiar voice without its metal thrum, Edward turned again and faced Alphonse's body. This time it looked up at him, its dull, golden eyes easily finding and capturing his perplexed stare. A somber expression overtook its face and it shook its head. "You cannot communicate with him. Your brother is on a different plane of existence from you."

Edward's brows furrowed. "'A different plane?'"

It dipped its head. "You—"

"You're… my body…"

Edward whirled around. Alphonse lifted his arm, armor trembling, and slowly extended his hand toward his body. He stopped short, however, fingers barely grazing over Edward's jacket. He jerked his hand away and took a step back. "I'm here again... Why… am I here again?"

"'Again,'" Edward echoed.

"Just as you had learned so long ago, human beings are composed of three parts: the body, the soul, and the spirit. It is his spirit that connects his soul to the body that has been left here." Truth lifted its hand and pressed it over its heart. "Here, he can reunite with his body and become whole."

"Yeah, I know that. I just went over this," Edward retorted, his attention still on Alphonse. That was his entire purpose, his entire reason for becoming the Fullmetal Alchemist. He wanted nothing more than to see the day when his brother was reunited with his body. But… he had imagined it differently. That somehow, in a way he hadn't figured out, was that he would be there in mind, body, and spirit as well so that he could help guide him from the Gate and back to Amestris.

So this… This was wrong. If Alphonse was reunited with his body right there and then, there would be no way for him to return through the Gate. He would continue to live there, feeding off Edward's energy until he found a way to return to him. It was troubling, terrifying, to think that Alphonse could be stuck there for an undetermined amount of time, left alone in that vast expanse of white with only Truth as his company.

But the thing that was most troubling to him, before that could happen, was why. "I don't understand…" he muttered. "Why is he here? And why did he say 'again'?" He turned away from Alphonse to peer toward his body again and narrowed his eyes. "Tell me what happened."

"I think you already know why," Truth answered, gesturing past Edward and toward Alphonse again. Edward whirled around to find that his brother's movements had slowed to a painstakingly sluggish crawl, as though the time that surrounded them had shifted. "His attachment to the armor you bonded his soul to is becoming weaker. Before long, the connection will sever and his soul will retreat to his body. Just as it was meant to be."

"And you're saying that," Edward said as his heart sank into his stomach. "That his soul will eventually leave the armor I bound it to?"

"Another time before, yes," Truth said. "And from this point on, it will continue to happen in rapid succession until he is reunited with his body."

Edward swallowed thickly. "But what I don't understand is why he's here now?"

Al's body's expression shifted, and a look of disappointment crossed its features. "You mean… you haven't figured it out yet? I'm disappointed."

Edward's jaw tightened and he focused his scrutinizing glance toward it once again. Its expression did not change, the sullen look it had adopted growing increasingly melancholy the longer Edward pondered its question. Hadn't figured out what, exactly? In all honesty, his appearance at the Gate, or rather, his appearance beyond the Gate made little sense to him. Of all the times had been there, he had been standing between the Truth and the Gate itself. This time, however, he had found himself stranded in a place that was supposedly exclusive to the Gate and Truth, with only Truth able to contact him.

A place beyond the Gate…

"Can't you feel it, Edward?"

His hand slowly raised and grasped at the piece of his shirt that hung above the spot where he had been wounded. The dull throb had been ever-present during their conversation, but only now did he pay it enough heed to feel it. His hand left his shirt when a sharp jab slammed into his chest, tangling his fingers through the cloth above his heart.

"The continuous drum against your chest? The periodic movement of air between your lips and into your lungs? Don't you feel your body?"

He… did. It was faint, but everything Alphonse's body described suddenly came to fruition as he became hyperaware to all the weak sensations he had failed to pay notice to.

It clapped its hand over its heart. "What you're feeling right now is a valiant effort of those around you trying to keep your body alive."

He drew in a sharp breath as the final pieces of the puzzle suddenly fell into place… and a feeling of sickness filled his gut. He turned, astonished and horrified, toward the body that had once belonged to his brother, and the surly expression it had maintained until that point grew despondent.

"You mean," he muttered…

It nodded. "That's right. You, Edward Elric, are dead."

When a few moments passed and nothing came of the tasks Marcoh had assigned, he dug into the pocket of his cloak and produced a piece of chalk. "Scar, I want you to continue chest compressions just as you are doing them now until I tell you to stop."

Izumi grabbed hold of his shoulder. "Dr. Marcoh, what are you—"

He ripped his arm away and continued to work furiously on the circle he had begun to craft. "There isn't time, Mrs. Curtis!" He began to work on perfecting the runes, which Izumi offhandedly recognized as 'blood,' 'body,' and 'water.' "I need you to trust me." His hand swept outward as he finished the circle.

"Scar, Falman, bring him over here!"

The two men quickly obliged and half-dragged, half-carried Edward into the middle of the circle.

"Now stay away," Marcoh instructed, and the two men staggered back. Izumi watched, completely lost, as he raised his hands and slammed them against the ground.

A burst of red sparks erupted from the rock and twisted around Edward's body before the alchemic energy dove into his pores and vanished. A millisecond passed and, when nothing happened, Izumi cried, "What were you trying to—" She stopped when Marcoh had returned his focus to the dirt, having already scratched a smaller circle into the ground.

"This is only a theory," he said as he pressed his hand against the second circle. "But right now, it's the only option we have left if we want to save him," he warned as another collection of red sparks danced around his fingers and hand. "So, everyone! Take a step back," he cried as he slapped his hand against Edward's chest.

"'Dead'," Edward echoed. "But… how? I… I," he looked down at his hands, "I used a fraction of soul as payment to heal myself and… it worked. I sealed it closed!"

Alphonse's body shook its head. "You performed the transmutation as you needed." Its lips curved down into a frown, "Even though you healed the wound that was evacuating the blood from your body, you failed to completely seal the vessels that continued to bleed. As a result, you bled into your abdomen."

"That's… that's impossible."

He had calculated everything down to the finest detail in those desperate moments. He had seared the vessels, pressed and wove the edges of the wound closed. Everything he had done had been done to the utmost degree. It… it couldn't be. Not after all that. Not after everything he had done—

"You of all people should know," Alphonse's body continued as its lips split into a grin. "Nothing is impossible. It's what you learned when you first discovered the existence of the Homunculi. Surely the concept of dying young isn't as big a stretch."

"You say that like it's something to be celebrated."

"Oh, I would never celebrate your death." The frown it had worn before returned to its face. "In fact, I'm disappointed that you didn't figure it out."

"I thought I had…" Edward looked down at the manifestation of his soul, once again lifting his shirt and finding again that the wound had been sealed shut. His fingers glossed over the spot where it had been, outlining the edges of the scar that had been formed. "I thought that I had done everything right…"

"Make no mistake, your alchemy was perfectly crafted. However, as you learned once before, the human body has its limitations. Even the best alchemist will eventually die. Unfortunately," it gestured to him, "Your time came sooner than you thought."

Denial bubbled within him. It was a notion he could not, would not, wrap his head around. He was still there, speaking to Alphonse's body. Though his real brother could not see him, the fact of the matter remained that he was still present enough to interact, even if it was with a body inhabited by truth.

There was still an iota of him in existence, and he decided that he would continue to hold tightly to it.

"Then why am I here," he argued. "You said that I'm in another plane of existence but I don't understand why. You say that I'm dead and yet I'm still here speaking to you."

"The spirit that connects your soul to your body is still intact," it explained. "But it is slowly being drawn taut until," it lifted its fists, simulating holding a string between them, and pulled them apart, "It snaps."

"But it hasn't yet, has it? That's why I'm at the Gate and not beyond it. My soul is still attached to my body, and what they're doing is keeping my body alive. So that means…" He placed his hand against the Gate, slowly dragging his fingers down along the curves and shapes that made up the intricate runes that defined it as his. His hand curled into a fist and he pounded it once against it. "That means I can go back!"

Its silence was uncharacteristic, and Edward threw a glance over his shoulder toward it to find that its mouth was ajar, as though his proclamation was without reason. When it recollected itself, however, its face darkened. "You don't get it, you arrogant child! Your spirit is fading. Your life will be cut short the moment that bond breaks and you will die. There is nothing you can do now but accept the fate you have been handed."

He felt something brush over his arm and he looked down to find that he had flicked one of the Gate's hands away. It recoiled but then continued its advance, slowly winding up his pant leg. He gave it a kick, and it retaliated by clamping down tightly on his leg. Other hands followed suit, slithering from the mouth of the Gate to join the other in taking him. He reached out to grab hold of one that had wrapped itself around his arm, stopped by another that entwined itself between his fingers.

A rush of panic coursed through him and he looked up. A sincere, apologetic smile crossed Al's body's face, and Truth whispered, "I wish you had more time, Edward Elric. You were so close…"

He jerked his head around, fighting the tendrils with what strength he could muster, and reached for Alphonse again. His hand, just as it had before, passed through him.

"Al, please! Please! Can you hear me?!" He waved his hand out again, and once again it passed through his younger sibling. Edward stumbled and the dark shoots seized the opportunity and tightened their hold. He dug his heels into the ground and continued to fight as they began to drag him toward the mouth of the Gate, past Alphonse's body. "Al!"

"I'm sorry it had to end this way, Edward Elric."

"Cut the crap," he hissed as he tore his hand away from the tendrils and grabbed its arm. "You don't care! Alphonse, wat!"

Its lips curved down into a frown and it reached up and began to peel his fingers off its shoulder. "Fighting it will only make it more difficult, Edward Elric. Accept your fate so that you may peacefully pass."

"I can't! I won't! Not yet." Edward's feet scraped against the ground and when he tried to catch his footing again, was forced from his feet and ripped away from Alphonse and his body, and thrust into the darkness. He writhed and struggled as the tendrils tightened their grips on him until he was completely immobilized by them.

His eyes darted around until he found the trickle of light that flooded into the darkness from the crack in the Gate's door and he fixated his glare on it. Edward stretched his fingers out and toward the light, but halted just before he completely stretched his arm as an unusual sensation washed over him and began to erode the frantic panic that had overtaken him moments before, and he fell into a chilling sense of calm.

So… this is the end, he thought as his eyes drifted closed. His limbs loosened and his uphill battle against the Gate's hands ceased. Every iota of fear that had pumped through him ebbed, and he no longer felt the sense of urgency he had before. He supposed that it was inevitable; after all, he was no longer in a hurry to be anywhere anymore.

There were so many things he had failed to accomplish, so much he still had yet to do. His promise to the Colonel and the Lieutenant, and Ling, had fallen through. Their bodies had been taken from them, and they had been left as unwilling prisoners within them. None of it had been deserved. None of what had happened was because of them. If they –no, if he- hadn't drawn them into this, they never would have succumbed to the Homunculis' plan. If he had given them something else to chase they would still be working to fulfill their goals, just as they had done for Edward.

Alphonse and Winry… they would be devastated when they heard. His face contorted as an image of Winry, face beet-red and cheeks stained with tears entered his mind. She would cry for him again. He realized that he never had the opportunity to tell her what he had wanted to most: that the next time she would cry because of him, it would be tears of joy. And now, it seemed, his silent promise would be lost along with him.

And Alphonse… His only family. The one whom he had let down most of anyone. He had persuaded him to help perform the transmutation, despite his wariness. And it ended up costing him the most out of anything: his entire body.

Edward's eyes flew open as the situation's gravity sank in.

No…

His body had been taken, but the bond they shared would be taken the moment his heart stopped beating. His death would mean that the connection to the armor he had created would be broken, and his soul would return to its rightful place: his body. The same body that was trapped between the realm of life and death, left to live in anguish until its malnourishment ate him away to nothing.

He would die there. Alone.

… No…

He couldn't. Not after everything he had been through. Not after enduring life in a body that could not feel. Could not taste. Could not eat. It couldn't be the end for him. Not after everything.

With what little motion he had left in his limbs, Edward stretched his fingers toward the ray of light that bathed the darkness with its brilliant glow. They scrapped clumsily against the roughened stone door and wrapped around the edge, tethering him to the last remaining chance he had.

He couldn't die. He wouldn't.

Not when they were still prisoners in their own bodies. Not when he had made a vow to Winry that if he made her cry, it would be tears of joy.

Not when Alphonse still needed him.

His vision began to blur as the Gate continued to close, unhindered and unyielding toward his attempt to escape.

He couldn't. He can't.

He ripped his other arm away from the tendrils and reached toward the mouth of the Gate. He can't. He can't.

He can't—

"Brother!?" Al caught hold of his wrist and jerked him from the Gate's mouth. "What are you doing here?!"

Edward's eyes widened. "Al… you can see me. Then that means it'll all be alright."

His wrist began to slip through his brother's grip and Al retaliated by grabbing hold of his bicep with the hand that was freed. He braced his feet as best as he could against the traction-less white ground and tugged again, momentarily relieving the shadows' pull. "Of course I can see you, Brother," he cried. "And what do you mean 'it'll be alright?! What will? Why are you—"

His body jerked back and his arm nearly slid through his brother's fingers again. A frustrated cry followed Alphonse's repeated attempt to tighten his hold on Edward's arm. Edward clapped his hand against the spines on his brother's forearm to anchor them together. The hold the Gate had on him was only increasing, and he knew that his time there was drawing to an end. Where he would end up for certain was still a mystery to him, even if Alphonse's recognition had injected a miniscule amount of hope into his overwhelming fear.

"Listen to me, Al," he interjected. "There isn't much time left…" He trailed off as his eyes caught the burning red orbs that had replaced his brother's. His hold on his arm tightened. From just beyond them he could feel Alphonse's body's curious stare and his heart began to ache. They were so close, and yet so far from completing their goal. It would be unbearable to later think that they were within steps of his brother's body, yet were unable to obtain it.

Another day, he reminded himself as the shadows' hold strengthened. He would live to see the day when they both returned to the Gate to reclaim Alphonse's body. Despite the fear building in the back of his throat, he continued, "There isn't much time, Al, but I just wanted to let you know that I'm coming back."

"What… do you mean?"

Edward forced a smile. "Exactly that, Al. I'm coming back. For you. For Winry. The Colonel and the Lieutenant. Ling… I'm coming back for all of you."

"But where are you going now?"

"Trust me, Al. I'll be back—" A final tug of the tendrils forced him from his brother's grip, and Edward was once again forced away. A glimpse of Alphonse, arm still outstretched, flashed through his mind before the Gate slammed shut and immersed him into a sea of darkness.

This time, however, there were no flashes of his life, and no alchemic formulas for him to grapple with. Instead, there was only darkness, and he was left alone with his drifting thoughts.

He closed his eyes, allowing himself to be carried along with the undulating waves of energy that pushed him toward his final destination. Wherever that would end up being…

The sense of calm that filled him somehow felt more final than the other. And yet, it felt more complete. Alphonse had seen him and that meant, at the very least, his body had not betrayed him. He had crossed the threshold of uncertainty into the realm of mortality again, and he liked to think that he continued to hold onto it after his contact with his brother was cut short.

After all, he had a promise to fulfill…

A faint light trickled beneath his eyelids and he slowly opened his eyes. In the distance he could see a white orb of light, not too unlike the sun he would see every time he would turn his eyes toward the sky.

He unfurled his fist and raised it toward it. His clumsy attempt to grab it failed to catch it, and a faint smile touched his lips.

He should have realized it before…

That's what Mustang was trying to tell him. To swallow the sun. There had been an metaphor behind his actions, and it had referenced the Philosopher's Stone. Though the relic had been cracked and the image had been lost, Edward found himself constructing a transmutation circle of his own design.

One where the lion would swallow the sun, the alchemical rune that depicted the Philosopher's Stone.

A chuckle a few notes lighter than one crafted by delirium left him, and he shook his head as he grasped at it again. The Philosopher's Stone… the mind, body and soul, the makings of a human being… It meant something more to him. Something that was just beyond the boundary of his thoughts.

Something, he believed, that would solve the answer to his questions about the Philosopher's Stone, and how it could overcome the triad that composed the human body, mind, and soul. Perhaps then, once the answer was uncovered, he would understand how to rip the theory to shreds and break the bonds the Philosopher's Stone created.

"Edward…?"

He moved his arm from obstructing his view, and narrowed his eyes. The light had ventured closer to him, and brought with it an odd sense of familiarity.

"Ed?"

His lips parted, but his reply slipped off his tongue. Closer… he needed to be closer.

The voice repeated itself over and over again, chanting his name more frantically than the next.

"…Edward?"

This time he recognized it. How could he have missed it before?

He was closer now, just within reach of the light. Edward stretched his arm taut and dipped his fingers into its glow, and he drifted through it.

…

A rush of breath filled his lungs and he erupted into a fit of coughs. Dozens of hands descended upon him and he feebly tossed and turned against them when a stabbing pain tore into his side. He twisted an arm free and pressed it against the wound that had been sealed shut, squeezing his eyes shut.

And paused.

The wound was there when it hadn't been before. And the hands he had felt twisting around him were not the ones that had tried to drag him through the Gate. He drew in another breath and slowly opened his eyes, and he felt a tug on the skin of his chest. His hand left his side and grabbed at the fabric of his shirt, only to find that it had been torn away. Instead, he found, in its place was a well-placed, puffy ring of skin. Edward's fingers traced around it, and he hissed and tore his hand away as its touch elicited a sharp stab of pain.

He raised his flesh hand and held it a few inches from his face, and began to turn it, appreciating how the light that his eyes had slowly began to adjust to highlighted it. There was no denying it. What he was feeling was real. He twisted his wrist and lifted his automail hand and looked down at it, curling the fingers of both hands into fists.

He was…

Edward blinked as the realization slowly began to sink in before he lifted his eyes and found himself staring directly into his teacher's.

Alive…