JKH - Thanks, Birdy. words without - There's enough royai that you will know it, but not enough to overwhelm the story. Miss Mustang - Thank you so much! I'm glad you are enjoying my interpretations of the characters. vefa - Sorry! It's not over, I'm just a bad author by not keeping up with my posting. Perennial Rhinitis - Whoops, caught another one of my boobers. Reius Devirix - Thanks! XStrife - Hopefully the rest of the story will live up to what's preceeded it. Thanks for the kind words. SnufflesWillRise - LOL on the typo! Marz1 - Glad you are enjoying it.

Once again, I have to apologize for the exceptionally long delay. I'm going to try posting several chapters at a time to speed it to the end and not continue everyone's suffering. Thanks for being patient with me.

Traitorous Hearts

The words were still crisp in Odessa Rhodes' mind, even so many years later.

How can you live with yourself, Tim?

Three years into the fighting at Ishbal, she had learned she could not live with herself. She was doing what she had been trained to do, what she thought her purpose was, but instead, she was healing soldiers that turned around and went back out to war killing and maiming each other again and again. It ate at her, rotting her insides every time she watched a recovered soldier get up, pick up his gun and head back out.

All she was doing was continuing the cycle of pain and death.

Their blood will be on your hands. You know this.

Free moments were spent between the rushes of casualties hiding behind the hospital tent crying. She hated herself for getting caught up in the war. She was a healer, a doctor.

She had briefly found a kindred spirit in the Crystal Alchemist, Tim Marcoh, but she quickly learned that he too was trapped in a situation beyond his control.

Except that he was willing to create death in the form of red water. Such a distasteful thing. Such things were taboo for a reason, she thought. Alchemists were supposed to improve the lives and help the people. That was why she wanted to be one.

Not to become a destroyer.

Before she uttered the words, she knew the irony. "Traitorous bastard," she growled as she pulled her shawl over her scarred shoulders. It had taken painful hours but she had used her skills to urge her body to heal. The wounds were far from recovered and she could not take away the scarring, but at least they were no longer open.

She would live. If nothing else, just long enough to take that last life.

The one who had destroyed the temple in Medes.

Be thou for the people, she thought darkly.

Picking up the lit lantern sitting on the floor next to her chair, she slowly straightened, her body aching and tired.

If it had not been for Nevar, the Flame Alchemist would have burned her alive. It hurt her heart they had to leave before the task was done. Worse, so many of Hirada's men—including Nevar—had been killed just so she could have her revenge.

Holding the lantern out before her, the flickering light sent shadows dancing about the tall corridor as she weaved her way around debris from crumbling walls.

The lantern revealed faded murals dedicated to the Sun God Leto. They were deep in the oldest part of East City, known simply as the Remnant as it still held reminders of the tribes that had once lived there before being driven toward the Great Desert so long ago.

The Temple of Leto was doomed to be destroyed in coming weeks and replaced with cheap housing for East City's growing population, but for now, it would provide shelter for her, Hirada and the remainder of his men.

Echoing through the cavernous structure, she could hear the softly whispered prayers of the Hareti. It was almost songlike as they beseeched their god to give them strength for revenge, hoping that their prayers were still heard and answered.

Entering into the primary sanctuary, she paused as the firelight from the lantern flickered about, casting demonic figures about the walls.

After a few moments, her gaze settled on two figures huddled in the corner. Approaching slowly, the firelight cast stark shadows across a young woman's face. Terror lit her wide eyes as she clutched a small girl close to her. "No," she cried, trying to escape but the wall held them trapped.

"What do you want?" came a terrified question.

Odessa smiled at the shadow-obscured face. "I have a few questions for you."

Unspoken Fear

"I don't think so," Ed said as he sat on the floor of his cell, lightly picking at the cold, dry toast that a guard had slid through the narrow opening in the bars. "I mean, what reason would Lt. Havoc have to make up a story like that?"

Al sat there quietly.

Sensing his younger brother's unspoken concern, he inquired, "Why do you ask?"

"Do you think you will have to do terrible things like that?"

Setting the toast down on the tray, Ed stared at the floor. "I don't know." Something deep inside told him there would come a time he would have to make difficult, terrible decisions. He hoped in the end he could live with his actions, but he would never do anything simply because he was ordered. He would quit the military first. Al's silent examination was relentless. He could feel his brother just watching him.

"We could break out," Ed announced, eager to turn he and Al's thoughts away from Havoc and the terrible story of Medes.

"We could get in a lot of trouble," Al replied from his seat on the bottom bunk.

Sighing, the youth pressed his back against the wall. "But we didn't do anything wrong!" The fight drained out of him and he brushed his long bangs back from his face. Growling, he hit the wall, his automail hand clanging against the stone. "As soon as I'm out of here, I'm going to let that arrogant—"

The sound of footsteps echoing down the corridor brought a sudden silence.

As the noise seemed to be almost on them, Ed laughed. "Are we getting more company?"

Al leaned toward the bars slightly. "I think it is Lt. Col. Hughes."

"Finally," Ed said. He didn't look up when the man stopped in front of the cell. "Well, it's about time," he said irritably. "Did you finally talk some sense into that—"

"Ed," Al whispered. "Ed!"

At the tense tone, Ed looked up and saw Hughes just standing there quietly. He looked exhausted and hardly the chipper, borderline insane person he had gotten to know. The tall man was staring off toward the wall.

A cold chill raced through Ed as he roughly shoved the remains of his breakfast and tray off to the side and stood up. "What happened?" he demanded, rushing to the bars that separated them. "Lt. Colonel?" The stale toast turned to a rock in his system as he stared at the dark stains marring Hughes' usually crisp uniform.

"Are you hurt?" Al asked as he too stood up.

Surprise lit Hughes' grim expression as he looked down and brushed his fingers over the dark cloth. "I should have changed into something clean," he said absently.

"Lieutenant Colonel?" Ed pressed.

For a time, Hughes just stared at his stained uniform. He seemed detached from everything.

Reaching through the bars, Ed grabbed the man by the collar and pulled him forward, nearly crashing him into the metal rods that stood between them like sentinels. "What happened?" he demanded to know.

When Hughes finally looked up, the deep weariness in his eyes made Ed withdraw. The older man leaned forward slightly, pressing his hands to the horizontal supports as if to brace his weight that had suddenly become too much to bear. His fingers tightened around the metal so tight that his knuckles turned white. "I didn't sleep much," he said almost absently. A familiar smile faintly danced across his tired features. "Have you ever felt like you were using a slingshot to combat a problem when what really needed was a canon?"

Ed glanced back over his shoulder at Al, hoping to glean if his younger brother, who was better at reading people, understood. All he sensed was confusion from the hulking form. Looking back at Hughes, he asked, "Was it Rhodes? Did she attack again?"

Hughes tightened his grip around the bars. "Roy wounded her, but she managed to escape. They are combing the streets for her, Hirada and the few of his men left.

"Well, sounds like you got everything under control then," Ed said before stepping around Al and finding a place on the cot. He leaned back against the wall and stretched. "I guess you don't need me. Not that I could do much good locked up here."

"Brother," Al softly chastised.

Seeming to snap out of his daze, Hughes fished a small ring of keys from his pocket. "I can't fight her on my own, I need a cannon." He reached up and rubbed his eyes with his free hand, pushing his glasses up slightly. Then he unlocked the heavy door that kept the brothers imprisoned.

"Won't the Colonel be mad you are going over his head?" Ed asked, straightening.

Hughes paused and glanced up. "Roy…Colonel Mustang," he paused. "There was an attack last night. Lt. Hawkeye took a blow to the head and a few cuts. They were keeping her for observation but they might let her out later today."

"What?" Al asked sounding startled.

"And the Colonel?" Ed asked, finally understanding.

"It was a long night." Hughes turned the key and old mechanisms shifted, clattering loudly as the door swung open. He blocked the door, but the old fire was back in his eyes. "You can either help me find this woman or you can stay in here. Your choice."

Realizations

Ed tiredly pushed the thick book away. After staring at report after report most of the day and well into the evening, he thought his brain had turned to pudding. "I don't think I can read another word," he softly groaned.

Al looked up, but remained silent before again hunching over the table that seemed too small for his massive body. He turned the page on the book he had been skimming. "I think I'm too young to be reading this," he announced. It was yet one more technical account of the disastrous mission to Medes. If he still possessed the ability, he would have thrown up, reading detailed accounts of charred and heat tortured human bodies that littered the ground.

"Funny, that's what I was thinking too," Ed said tiredly. He folded his arms over the table in front of him and put his head down. His voice, muffled against his sleeve, "I think I'm going to have nightmares."

"Do you think the Colonel does?"

"Probably."

His brother was hiding the same fear that was creeping through him, Al thought. They had been staring at every piece of paper Lt. Col. Hughes could dig up on Medes and more specifically Odessa Rhodes. He silently admitted to himself his reasons were rather selfish. Sure, he wanted to help stop this woman before she hurt anyone else, but at the same time, if she knew Dr. Marcoh…

Of course, he and Ed were not really going to try and stop her. He figured the Lt. Colonel would make sure not to endanger them needlessly.

Closing the book in front of him, he did not want to read any more about the rebellion, or detailed, soulless reports on how so many people died.

Ed sat up and pulled the book Al had been looking at close. "There's a reason no one wants to talk about it." He paused and flipped through a few pages. "I would want to forget that place too after just reading about it." He pressed a finger to the text and then read out loud, "Official casualties: twelve soldiers killed, nine wounded, including one officer. Indeterminate amount of Ishbalan Hareti rebels, likely about three hundred. Primarily women and children." He growled. "There was an explosion, their temple was loaded with ammunition and it exploded leveling the whole town. One guess who blew it up."

"It can't all be so simple," Al thought as he leaned back. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied the newspaper Hughes had left behind when he had checked for any news stories on the previous night's attack. The icy chill of fear flooded through him as he snatched it up. "Brother!"