Ed woke up the next morning, tired and cold. The rain hadn't let up, and it didn't look like it was going to. The sky was grey and bleary, making everything seem worse than it was.

The gun.

Pathetic. Just what Roy would say, if he knew Ed wanted to take the easy way out. Ed smirked bitterly. A moment of weakness, nothing more.

He walked over to the table, where the gun sat since the night before. He handled it carefully, before, de-transmuting it, leaving it as a pile of nuts and bolts.

Knock knock

"Yes?" He called,walking to the front door.

It opened, revealing Gram. "Having a fun time with this rain?" She asked bitterly.

He rolled his eyes. "You should talk, walking around in it."

She cackled, saying, "Ah, I'm tough."

"I'll say." Ed muttered, and regretted it as the cane smashed down on his back.

With Roy

Well, step three's a success.

Roy was now sitting, awkwardly, tied with his hands behind his back, and watched as his gloves (last pair, too) were shredded before him. He was on his knees, looking out at a, while a bit scruffy, impressive group. A large group of people had assembled, to watch the killing of the man behind their problems-- Roy, apparently.

"Intimidating, isn't it?"

Roy looked to his left, seeing a man that can only be described as a sleazy car salesman. His dark brown hair was slicked back, revealing a muscular face, which was turned out to face the crowd.

Roy said nothing, his eyes narrowed in distrust.

"You are quite stubborn, Mr. Mustang. One would assume, after the death of your protege Elric, and the attempt on Mr. Armstrong, that you would have fled for safety." He chuckled, turning to Roy with dull, glassy grey eyes.

"But no, you insist on coming to stick you own nose into our business-- granted, it makes it easier for us." He said, gesturing out to the group, that had fallen silent as he began to speak. "Seems the training the military puts their mutts through transfers from one power to the next, eh?"

Roy continued his silence.

A knife was pulled from the air, and the voice continued, "Well, I am gladdened to say this ends here, Mustang-- or were you expecting one of those long and aggravating speeches for you to use to make an escape?"

He stepped over to Roy, amid cheers from the crowd. "We win, Roy."

!BANG!

With Ed, much later (like, a week-ish)

A knock sounded from the recently heavy feeling door roused Ed from the couch. He stood with a slight groan, and he opened it slowly, and was only slightly surprised when Jean grinned down at him.

"Ah, Mr. Havoc. To what do I owe the honor?" Ed motioned him in.

Jean stepped in, grinning still. "We did it."

Ed's brow furrowed in confusion. "I'm afraid I don't understand, Mr. Havoc--"

"Ed, we did it!" Jean said again, startling the younger blonde.

"Jean, what the hell do you mean?" Ed asked furiously, hoping what ever gave Jean the confidence to blow Ed's cover would keep him alive.

Jean sat at the table, flopping a newspaper down. " Read all about it: 'Fullmetal Assassin Exposes Crime Ring'! "

Ed's eyes widened, picking up the paper, scanning it frantically. "You can't be serious."

Jean laughed. "You think I'd risk Riza's gun to come here and lie to you?"

Ed looked at him, his eyes dancing while his face showed disbelief. "Still, what makes you so sure that it's over?"

"Because, Roy's an idiot and made himself human bait and put himself in a reckless position to be sure he got a hold of the leader, " Jean said, smirking, "Then we surrounded him and trapped the entire group of the involved. None denied the claims, and all are in prison, or possibly worse, I'm not sure,I wasn't paying attention."

Ed just stared at him.

"What? It's true." Jean said defensively.

He looked Ed up and down, trying to decide what was making Ed difficult. He noticed that Ed seemed pale, and his eyes were listless and glassy, as i he was sick. Ed was wearing a sky blue tee, leaving his arms bare, one of which Jean noticed looked shaky, then he saw something truly worrisome.

"Ed, what's all over your arm?"

Ed glanced at his left arm, then sighed. "Might as well not bother hiding." He laid it flat on the table.

Jean hissed. There were cuts, all up and down it, in various stages of healing. He reached across, running his finger tips gently over them, inspecting. Some were scarring over, some were so fresh they hadn't even started scabbing. And some--

"This one looks..."

Ed looked at it, then said dully, "I thought I was losing too much blood, so I tried heating my blade, then cut. It hurt a lot more, but it blistered over, so I lost less blood."

Jean looked up at him, his face concerned, but his eyes angry. It flowed over into his voice when he asked, "Ed, what were you thinking? Why would--"

"Hmm, I guess I was a bit selfish. And impatient, that too." Ed said calculatingly.

"You idiot!" Jean said, standing. "What about your brother? What about Winry, what about Roy?"

Ed scoffed bitterly. "Come now, Jean, if you were me, do you really believe that I'd ever go home?"

"Yeah. Because if I were you, you'd be me." Jean said patronizingly. "And I'd know you do the most you could to get the people you killed me off the streets so I could!"

Ed rolled his eyes. "I'm sure. Alright, let's get this strait," He continued, sounding like Ed now. "You could sit here, for two years, with no contact, and believe that you would go home?"

Jean growled. When Ed said it like that, it did sound depressing. "That's no excuse!"

Ed glared. "I'm not expecting it to be." He glanced to his right, his desk. "I almost used a gun, get out that way. Gram would come over, find me, and tell you next time you spoke. Roy would grieve a bit, then get over it."

Jean just shook his head is disbelief.

"But I realized that would be too easy, knowing, even if he wasn't anymore, Roy had done a lot for me,and it wouldn't be fair to make him suffer for nothing. But I waned to suffer, punishment for leaving him confused, and thinking it was his fault I got shot. Cause I know he does." Ed smiled bitterly. "Equivalent Exchange."

"I..." Jean sighed. "I can't say I don't blame you, cause I know you know better than that. But I guess it's something you'll have to figure out for yourself."

Ed nodded.

Jean looked at him, incredulous. Then he smirked. "Meanwhile, I'm sure Al would like to know you're alive, since the media hasn't been informed. How long do You need to pack?"

Ed smiled-- a true smile. "Five minutes. Tops."

!! I do not mean to offend anyone if they and/or a friend/relative is a car sales person, sleazy or other wise. If it helps makes you feel better, think of this guy as a person who gives you and/or your friend/relative a bad name !!

Also, this was not at all how I had this chapter going to begin with. But it was a little cliché, and so you got this. Much more original, less dramatic. But more characteristic. Ed knows better.