Nostrum: usually questionable remedy or scheme

Ed startled awake, face pressed into his dusty pillow, and nose buried in the scent of oil.

"…And after we get some food in you maybe we can go to the library. Take a break for a change. I know you have to– Brother?"

Ed stretched his arms as far as they would go around Al's chest plate. Relief flooded him, making his legs weak. "Al."

"Yes?" Al squeaked.

Ed swallowed. "There's something I have to do, and it's extremely important that you stay here."

"But–"

Knock knock

Al hesitated because Ed did not let go even at the courier's knock, but as he reached to answer, Ed brushed it off. "It's probably just Mustang wanting his report."

"Mustang? You never call him that…Did something happen while you were gone?"

The image of Al's twisted armor flashed in Ed's vision. "Yeah, sort of," he admitted. Ed released his hold, covertly swiped his eyes, and stepped back. Putting on his sanest grin, he declared, "But it wasn't anything I couldn't handle." He dropped the façade. "But Al, you have to promise me you won't leave the base."

Al shuffled forward, "Brother, you're kind of scaring me." He tried to get Ed to look at him, "What's going on?"

"Nothing you need to worry about, but I'm probably going to be gone all day," Ed slipped his boots back on and kicked off some of the caked mud.

"You wouldn't say I shouldn't worry about it if it wasn't dangerous," Al confronted.

"I didn't say it wasn't," Ed conceded, "but you shouldn't get involved."

"Let me come. I can help."

"I don't want you to get hurt." I don't want you to get killed.

"You know I can take care of myself."

"You shouldn't have to!" Ed justified.

"Ed–"

"Just stay here, Al."

Ed made to open the door, but Al caught hold and shut it. "No."

Ed glared fully at his brother, straightening himself for added height. Al wasn't often defiant, and though Ed matched him in stubbornness, Al always got his way when they argued. It had always been this way between them.

But this was one battle that Ed couldn't let him win.

"Al, I have to go."

"Not until you tell me what's going on."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I–" Al's warped armor leaned quietly against the wall. "I just can't."

"Brother, you can trust me."

Al's bloated blood seal stretched and swirled into the wall. "I know that."

Al clenched his gloves into fists of frustration. "Then why won't you talk to me?"

"Just stay here, Al!" Ed hated the way his voice cracked at the end. He tried to blink away the memories of what had never been and never would be if he could get Al to stay in a safe place. Not trusting his voice anymore, Ed bowed his head further and begged, "Please. Trust me."

Al stopped. "…Okay," he answered quietly. "If it's that important to you, I'll stay." His arm dropped and he allowed Ed to shoulder his way past without another word.

Ed kept his head down all the way to Mustang's office. When he opened the door, his casual entrance raised heads.

Everyone was right where they had been for the past…month? Hawkeye sat behind her desk, cleaning her gun. Fuery twiddled with the ever problematic phone. Havoc leaned over next to Breda to discuss the perpetual rainstorm with Falman one seat over, buried to his nose in documents. And there sat Mustang just where he'd always be, waiting for Ed.

Ed walked – walked – straight to Mustang's desk. Even Mustang was visibly startled by Ed's drastic personality shift. And were Ed's eyes red? They felt red. He probably looked like a walking train wreck.

"I need to talk to you," Ed deadpanned to the floor. "Privately. It can't wait."

Mustang's gaze narrowed. Ed could see the exchange between himself and Hawkeye as he led Ed into his office.

Keep it down out here. No visitors.

Yes, sir. Is he alright?

I'll find out.

Mustang settled behind his desk and calculated the expense of one question. Deeming it safe for the situation, he jumped straight into the issue: "What do you need to discuss, Fullmetal?

Ed evaded Mustang's efforts to meet his eyes. Where to begin? Even he didn't know. He was too tired to think anymore. Absently, he rubbed his throbbing shoulder. Well, if he had to start somewhere, he might as well get the hard part over with first.

"I need your help." He paused. All he had to do was lay out the facts. It would be easier to explain if he didn't have to think about it all.

Ed drew in an unsteady breath. "I'm stuck in a time loop, and I can't get out. Every day I start in my dorm with Al right before you send for me to give a report. Every day I–"

Or Al…but that never happened.

"– am kidnapped by what your mission summary calls 'a rogue alchemist'. I get knocked out and later wake up in an old shed. Not long after that I end up…being pulled through the Gate."

Ed dared a glance at Mustang. He hadn't moved much save to listen more intently. "That's as far as I get every time before Truth tells me to start everything all over again and sends me back. Every time, the whole thing resets, and I wake up in my dorm again."

Ed ground his teeth. This was the moment of truth. The deciding factor in whether his sprouting trust in Mustang was founded or not. Was it fair to hold Mustang to a promise he couldn't recall making? Maybe not, but it was all Ed had. The constant calm self-assurance in his posture slumped under a wave of uncertainty. He would do anything to keep what happened to Al from ever happening again. And for Al, he would swallow his pride. "Please Mustang," Ed pleaded. "Help me."

His eyes burned molten gold, meeting Mustang's gaze levelly.

Mustang was taking this surprisingly well. No outbursts or eyebrow raises. Only a shifting forward in his seat as he speculated, "Assuming what you're telling me is true–"

"It is." Ed frowned. Mustang couldn't seriously think he was making this up.

"Your situation seems to have something to do with an infraction of equivalency on your part."

What did that mean?

Oh.

He was insinuating that– Ed's eyes narrowed, posture rigid.

"Then you haven't performed Human Transmutation," Mustang assessed. "Are you suggesting that this time loop is something beyond Truth's control?" Mustang mused.

Ed froze.

Wasn't that a scary thought? Ed's worst fear, bar losing Al, was Truth and its terrifying omniscience. If this was beyond its control, what hope did Ed have of breaking free from it? While Ed contemplated the idea that he may very well be powerless and Truth along with him, Mustang asked the obvious question.

"Is there something that triggers the repeat? Something you do or don't do? A place you go?" He listened expectantly. Ed's mood dropped to his boots.

"There's something," Mustang assessed calmly.

"It repeats when I die."

"Die?"

Ed nodded.

"Even you are not unlucky enough to die at the end of each day." Ed's glare cooled the room. Mustang humored him, "So how do you die?"

With dead eyes, Ed stared through Mustang's dark gaze. "You kill me."

… … … …

Mustang surveyed the area. "This is where you found them?"

"Yeah," Ed wandered into the street where he had encountered Mustang and the accomplice the day before.

It had been a great relief to tell someone about all that had happened and have them, if not entirely believe him, trust him enough to help him. Even if that person was Mustang. Okay, well, especially because that person was Mustang. He'd missed being able to be in the same area as Mustang without fear of losing his head. Literally. In the figurative sense, he and Mustang had gone back to their regular banter, and if Ed was being honest with himself, he actually enjoyed it.

"You don't sound sure."

Well, mostly.

"A lot happened yesterday, okay?" Ed scowled, hating how the doubt crawled into his mind at the suggestion that his memory couldn't be trusted.

"Mm," Mustang adjusted his hat so the water poured off the side rather than down his back. "So this is the place you're kidnapped every day."

"Well, no," Ed admitted, "This is just where the other guy comes to collect. I've…been in a bunch of different places when they pop up."

"Like they're stalking you?" Mustang's tone was light, but his eyes scrutinized the perimeter.

"…" That explained a lot, but what really bothered Ed was that it gave credit to his paranoia.

Mustang glanced back at Ed. When Ed didn't respond, he suggested, "Perhaps we should search the area for them, see what turns up. Rather than wait around here, we might actually get somewhere."

As they exited the area, Mustang wondered aloud, "They must be good to get the upper hand with you every day."

"It's not like I tried to get kidnapped," Ed retorted. Then rethought the statement. Was that a compliment? Ed shivered. Mustang complimenting him was more disturbing than Mustang trying to kill him.

"You're not one who has to try," Mustang snarked.

"Shut up," Ed snapped with a little less fire. He meant to take a larger stride to get ahead of Mustang, but as he pressed his weight on his left leg, the muscles seized, and Ed collapsed.

"Ed?" Mustang knelt.

"Urk!" Ed bit his tongue, keeping his teeth clamped until the cramping faded. Usually the pain got bad when he walked around in the rain too long; Ed had long since learned to either visit the drug store with Al first thing in the day or to stay inside as much as possible. Not that it helped much, but he avoided episodes like this. Moments when the pain was so bad he could barely breathe as he writhed helplessly on the ground.

"Ed, what's wrong?"

Ed panted, trying to ease the pain while keeping his face out of a puddle. It took a few blinding moments, but slowly the sensation faded back into the usual throb.

He dared to sit up. Now for the hard part.

Mustang steadied him as he staggered to his feet. Ed brushed him off, wishing he couldn't feel the cold sweat clamming up his skin underneath the raindrops. Ed flinched as a light spasm electrocuted his shoulder. His eyes cinched shut, and he pressed a hand to his aching shoulder.

"I'm fine," He insisted. "I'm fine.

The funny thing was that being miserable was the definition of "fine" for him now. Strange how his normal perceptions had shifted to accommodate his situation.

Mustang took Ed by the elbow and guided him to sit by a nearby wall. "No, you aren't," he sighed and waited as Ed suffered in silence.

… … … …

By noon, Ed and Mustang had patrolled the most common areas the alchemist strayed. The rain still hadn't let up, and Ed was starting to get tired of rubbing his shoulder and leg to vainly suppress the painful swelling in his stumps.

"What made you come to me?" Mustang interrupted Ed's string of silent cursing.

"I'm starting to wonder that myself," Ed grumbled, pulling his hood tighter around his face. They were getting nowhere, and he was tired.

"You said I kill you at the end of each day," Mustang reminded. "Logically that wouldn't make me number one in you line-up of people to request help from."

Ed didn't like where this was going.

"So something must have happened," he concluded.

Ed grimaced, "A different Mustang in a different timeline promised me you'd help. Okay?"

"So we've done this before."

Ed really didn't like where this was going.

"Not exactly." He thought fast. He wasn't ready to think about yesterday just yet. "You promised to help me track down the ones who keep kidnapping me."

"And you think finding the perpetrators will stop the cycles?" Mustang challenged.

"I don't know. But every time I try to avoid it, something bad happens and I end up dead. This time I want to confront it. See if that changes anything."

"Have you ever tried just staying on the military base instead of wandering through Central?"

Ed glowered, "Every time I try, somebody drags me out into the rain. I mean it! I thought I was the only one who knew about the hidden crawl space in the cafeteria kitchens."

"It's pretty hard to get to," he conceded.

"Yeah, I…wait, how do you know about it?" Ed gave him a rather incredulous look that asked exactly how he knew about the area.

The awkward silence hung between them long enough to grow stale and die out. Mustang cleared his throat, "I don't believe that with me in the vicinity, they will make their appearance."

That was a thought. Maybe they weren't stupid enough to think they could handle two state alchemists. If they didn't show, what was there left to do? He barely remembered where that house and shed were; and he didn't exactly want to go back there. His only option right now was to find them on the streets like always. "Normally they show up by now," Ed protested.

As if on cue, the next street over blew up.

"Shall we?" Mustang pulled out his second pair of gloves – which Ed had reminded him to bring – to use until they soaked through.

Ed felt a wicked grin spread wide on his face. "It's about time!"

Unsurprisingly, the alchemist was there waiting for them with the same condescending attitude as the first time. He beckoned Ed forward with a tilt of his head. Ed strode forward with Mustang slightly behind. The expression wavered, and Ed reveled in the sensation of his maniacal smirk growing larger. This was just like old times, but with Mustang. Okay, not quite normal, but it felt good to be catching bad guys and not be caught by them.

"We already know what you've got planned." Ed closed in on his captor, his tone contemptful. "You're at the end of the line."

"Oh really?" One hand slapped the wall beside him, and the wall broke apart, creating a barrier of rubble between them, piling on the already ruined pavement. He attempted to dash out the other end of the street, but Mustang was ready for him. With one loud snap, the alley lit up with roaring flames. The alchemist slapped the ground with his hand, and the disrupted pavement absorbed the brunt of the fire.

"How is he doing that?" Ed jumped back. Without arrays already drawn, the alchemist had to have an array somewhere on him. But he wasn't wearing gloves.

Mustang didn't answer for a moment. Then, "Look at his hand."

The alchemist's hand drew back to reveal a gruesome scar on the inside of his wrist, glowing with the faintest sparks of alchemical light.

Ed swore and tore down the alley. At last second, he clapped his hands and jumped on the former wall. It reformed to create a platform to carry him over the mess. The alchemist reached out and destroyed it just as Ed jumped down, aiming a kick at his face. The alchemist rolled away and darted for the exit again.

Mustang's flames whipped through the air, encompassing the alchemist for all of a second before he swerved out of the way, right into Ed's fist.

Ah, that felt good.

The alchemist staggered, and Ed clapped, about to use the opposite wall to block off the alchemist's getaway. Through a haze of confidence, Ed almost reacted too slowly as the alchemist made a comeback grab at Ed's face. Ed ducked under the hand and narrowly avoided a stream of flames passing overhead to scorch the alchemist's whole arm.

But the fire sputtered out quickly in the rain, and behind Ed the fire stopped and bullets started shooting through the air instead.

"Give up," Ed demanded, "Or I'm going to–"

"To what?" he challenged. "It's clear you can't even fight. It's a wonder you're a State Alchemist at all." His hand rushed at Ed's chest. Ed dodged, and reached down to construct a spear.

It was true. Ed hadn't fought properly since all this began. Only half-started fights before–

Oh snap! Where was the other guy?

"Mustang!"

BANG! CRASH!

Silence.

At Ed's end of the alley, Al stood over the alchemist's unconscious form. At the opposite end, the accomplice lay dead, shot by Hawkeye as she took the bullet meant for Mustang.

Mustang dropped to his knees. "Riza," his hands went for her neck, checking for signs of life, to her chest, desperately trying to keep her with him. And finally, arms wrapping around her to hold her close.

"I shouldn't have asked her to help me find you. I was just so worried." Al stepped closer to the two, but his knees shook with a loud clatter. He fell, hands and knees on the ground. His voice shattered. "It's my fault. This is my fault…"

Al's dry sobs echoed through the alley as he claimed his responsibility in this over and over and over. It wasn't Al's fault, though. It was Ed's; his because he dragged Mustang into his mess.

Nothing ever ended right with him around. Feeling numb more than anything, Ed turned from the sight of Hawkeye's lifeless body cradled in Mustang's arms. All he ever did was make more messes for himself to clean up, and he was getting tired of it.

But what else could he do? He was the only one who had the power to change things enough to set them right. If they knew, no one would care what it cost him. He could reset the timeline as often as needed to do everything perfectly so what did it matter if he had to die by his own hand a time or two?

Unless his chances were limited. If he kept going on like there was no end, yet still trying to escape the cycle, sooner or later he might fix whatever started this and dying would finally result in death rather than another day.

But he wasn't willing to settle for this ending.

Amidst Mustang's broken cries, Ed's automail hand clinked against Mustang's discarded gun as he cautiously picked it up. His hands continued to shake as he raised it to his chest. As soon as this was over, he swore never to touch a gun again. They held too many nightmarish moments for him. In that same line of thinking, Ed positioned the gun for his heart this time. Placing the barrel against his temple brought bile to his throat in remembrance of Al's– that didn't matter now anyway. As he held position, everything around him started to numb. He felt detached as though this timeline was already inconsequential. It was almost comforting not to feel anything even as his hands still shook.

Al turned at the sound of rattling metal on metal. He saw Ed. He flipped around, scrambling to his feet and rushing forward. "Brother, STOP! What are you doing?!"

Ed's eyes locked on Al's. "Don't look, Al," he commanded.

"Brother!"

"Fullmetal…!"

He closed his eyes to the cold scene of carnage and Al's howls for him to stop.

Ed pulled the trigger.

And Al's arm thrust out, knocking the gun down.

"AAACCKK!" Ed's scream cut off with a gurgle as his mouth filled with blood. The ragged hole through his lungs squelched sharply as he gasped for breath. He was suffocating on his own blood.

Thunk

His head hit the street with a painful reverberation that vibrated his skull. Mustang and Al hovered over him, and he struggled to breathe, needing to die, but unable to stop himself from trying to live.

"Edward!" Mustang pressed a bloody hand over the wound, eliciting a scream from Ed. "No. No! Not you too."

To the side, Al sat helpless, too much in shock to dry sob anymore, and wavering as to what to do now. Ed focused his gaze on Al. There was no way to explain why he had done this, nor would he have to, but the emoteless expression in Al's soul fire eyes burned the message of terror and sorrow into Ed's memory.

Desperately, Ed begged for the white of Truth's domain to tug at his consciousness, but only blackness came, tearing down the walls of his vision and overpowering his energy with its lulling comfort.

For a few seconds, Ed hung limp in the darkness, but soon enough he saw the arena of white growing larger.

"…w ar d…Ed…wa r d."

The world came into focus, blurry, but still there. Ed couldn't move, and Mustang's voice came through like a kaleidoscope – fragmented and somewhat muted. Oddly enough, Ed felt phantom hands pumping his chest, pumping his heart full of life.

Oh no. Ed couldn't live. If he made it through this, than not only would Hawkeye stay dead, but Ed would have done the unimaginable: attempted suicide in front of his baby brother. For a moment, Ed realized he was up against that terrible future if Mustang saved him.

If he had a future after this.

White crept back into the edges of his vision, and the world began to fade out once more. Almost gratefully, Ed willingly followed the light out of the darkness.

… … … …

Ed sat across from Truth.

At present they were trading scowls.

"My door is only open for so long, and you keep wasting your chance."

Ed snorted, "I'm done with you. Quit jerking me around and tell me what's really going on. We both know you can't play nice."

"You're an alchemist, aren't you? Figure it out," Truth retorted. Its expression morphed into an eerie grin of menace and knowing. "Perhaps I should be thanking you instead. You are slowly shutting the Gate behind you."

Shadow hands wriggled free as though summoned and wrapped their destructive claws around Ed's wrists.

"What are you talking about?" Ed demanded. The hands tore at his cheeks, pulling at his hair and constricting his chest. Truth watched silently, smiling smugly like a shadow of Mustang.

As Ed was pulled through the door, he thought he saw it close a little.

"Again."

Normally I'd have uploaded this a couple hours ago, but the electricity went out during another round of the snowstorm this morning, and I spent my morning digging us out of the house. So...yeah. I'm grateful the electricity is back!

-Dante