Title: The Heart of Everything: The Song of the Forge Volume 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.

Summary: When whispers of a Rebellion sweeps across Amestris and a failed assassination reveals a terrifying plot against the State, Brigadier-General Edward Elric and Colonel Alphonse Elric are dispatched with orders to stop the rebels at all costs. The only problem is that the rebels have traveled twelve years into the past.

Chapter 1

His entire body was a single mass of throbbing pain, and his leaden eyelids would not shift, however much he tried. His limbs seemed weighted down, and nothing would respond the way he wanted. He could hear the steady beeping a heart monitor and the rhythmic whooshing of a respirator, though the sounds were faint and tinny. He frowned mentally. Surely the assassin's bullet and the rebound had not damaged him that badly had it?

No, the fact that he was in a hospital hooked up to life support was proof enough of how badly his body had been damaged. Gate Above, how did he get into such situations? He'd spent years pursuing a goal that no one had ever achieved, and had achieved what many believed to be impossible. He'd survived a war and stayed in the military because he felt that his country needed him, and because he wanted to repay the debt that he'd incurred. And he'd gotten shot in the process of repaying that debt.

He'd been shot protecting Mustang. Mustang was being targeted by an assassin for some unknown reason.

Oh. Oh. This was bad. Very bad. What if there was another one? Mustang had proven incapable of taking proper care of himself where his subordinates were concerned, so he had to get up and get Mustang back in the office here he'd be safe and away from guns in the hands of assassins. Time to get up, Edward. Must wake up. Get up, Edward! Wake up! Dammit, Wake UP!!!

Golden eyes shot open and lips parted in a sharp gasp that quickly led to gagging. There was something in his throat, it needed to come out. Must get it out! He couldn't breathe. Can't breathe! Get it out!

Hands were suddenly on his shoulders, pressing him down onto the bed as he struggled, and then there was Hughes and Mustang leaning over him, lips moving. Gate above help him, but he couldn't hear them through all the panicked shouting and his own struggles and raging heart as that thing in his throat choked him and the heart monitor displayed his distress for all the world to see and hear.

"Fullmetal!" Mustang's voice cut through the haze as he barked, "Breathe with the flow! Breathe, Edward, breathe! Relax and breathe!"

"Calm down, Ed," Hughes' voice was soft and soothing in comparison, "Breathe with the flow kid. Breathe. It will help you."

And like the obedient military dog that the war with Drachma had molded him into, Edward did as he was told and regulated his breathing to match the steady rhythm of the respirator. Immediately, the hands that were holding him down vanished, and other faces came into focus, doctors and nurses both as they checked the wires and tubes that were hooked into him. In the background was Mustang's staff, and at the door, a look of concern and fear still etched on his face, Alphonse, with Winry held to his chest, her face buried in his shoulder.

"Damn, but you scared us for a moment there, kid," Hughes said weakly, taking off his glasses and passing a hand over his face before putting the spectacles back on.

A doctor was leaning over him now. "Brigadier-General Elric?" he said, "Can you hear me?"

Edward nodded weakly. "Good, good," the doctor said, aiming a penlight into golden eyes. Edward blinked and the doctor moved the light to inspect the other eye. "Do you know where you are, Brigadier-General?" Edward nodded again as the doctor turned off the penlight and slipped it into a pocket. "Do you remember what happened?" Edward resisted the urge to roll his eyes and nodded. The doctor nodded. "I'm sure that Lieutenant General Mustang will want your report then. I'm removing the breathing apparatus."

Edward took a breath on his own as the tube was pulled out of his mouth and throat, and promptly fell into a coughing fit. His throat was dry and scratchy and hurt something awful. And immediately, a straw was placed on his lips and he took a sip of water, relaxing as the cool liquid soothed his abused throat.

"What happened?" his voice was hoarse.

"You were shot," Mustang's face was grim, "You said something about me being a target before you lost consciousness…"

Edward nodded grimly. "Yeah, at the time, all I knew was that he was targeting someone in Amestrian colors. It wasn't until I asked outright that I found out who the target was."

"Roy," Hughes' voice was grim.

"Yeah," Edward agreed quietly as he slipped away into the realm of sleep once more.

There was a sigh. "Get some sleep, Ed," Mustang said, "You earned some rest."

~*~

When Edward woke again, he found Hughes and Mustang at his bedside.

"So do you think you're up to a little desk work, Ed?" Hughes asked.

Edward frowned, "Why?"

"Several days after you were shot, the northern end of the city just went up in flames," Hughes said, "and the military police found some interesting things."

"Originally, the discovery was looked over by multiple different alchemists in different offices," Mustang added, "But then there was a lot of speculation as to what those arrays could do. All of the alchemists agreed on one thing, the array was meant to transport something, but what was or will be transported and the destination is currently unknown."

"The higher ups want me to look at the array then?"

"If it is a transportation array," Mustang said carefully, "the possibilities would be endless."

Edward's lips curved upward in a wry smile. "I doubt I'll be doing missions anytime soon," he said, "and it's not like I can say no, anyway. My curiosity won't let me."

Mustang nodded curtly. "I'll talk to the doctors about getting you discharged." He turned and left the room quickly.

"Is there any word on who might have ordered the hit?" Edward asked Hughes quietly.

Hughes shook his head, "The officer who arrived first on the scene, a Corporal Liam Pembrook, in Archives, ended up killing the assassin to keep him from killing you, so we couldn't get anything out of him. During the autopsy, however, the medical examiners did find that the assassin had an interesting tattoo on his forearm."

"And what does a tattoo have to do with anything?"

"You know the rebel faction that popped up during the start of everything with Drachma?"

"You mean the People's Army?"

"Yes. Turns out they have somehow gained a coat of arms and a motto. Both of which were tattooed on the assassin's forearm just below the elbow."

Edward frowned. "I have trouble believing that they'd gain something like a coat of arms and a motto without help. That they even have something like that, coupled with the assassin… It can't be a coincidence, but where and when and how would the rebels have gained such resources?"

"That's what we're trying to find out, kid."

"Have there been any other hits or unusual disappearances?"

"A few generals here and there, but nothing unusual for the military's political games."

Edward's frown deepened and Hughes knew that the blonde's sharp mind was putting together clues and speculation. The blonde shook his head. "There's not enough data to draw any conclusions. What we need is more information…" he sighed, "So where are those papers? I'd like to take a look at that array."

Hughes laughed, shaking his head. "They should be in Roy's office right now."

"What?!" Edward sat up, wincing minutely as scabbed over injuries were pulled and stretched by the motion, "Never tell me that the idiot left potentially important papers unattended in his office?! He's a General, and thus has access to confidential and important papers! He doesn't have the luxury of being careless! That bastard needs to get it through his head that he's not just a Colonel anymore!"

"Hawkeye's down there."

"His office has big windows, and his paperwork just sits there because he's always trying to get out of doing them."

Hughes blinked slowly and said carefully, "Hey Ed?"

"What?"

"I think you've been spending too much time with Hawkeye."

~*~

"Don't strain yourself, Brigadier-General," the doctor was saying as Edward signed the discharge papers. "Light duty only, and check in in a week or so just in case."

The trip to his office was a quick one, and Edward winced as he opened the door and was greeted to the sight of his desk stacked tall with paperwork. He sat down and flipped through the mounting stack of paperwork that had been steadily growing since his injury, and noted with amusement that they had been sorted into neat piles of urgent, important, necessary, marginally interesting, and boring, each labeled with a sticky note carrying Alphonse's precise handwriting. Obviously Alphonse and his aide, Lieutenant Alicia Herne had been busy while he'd been away.

Edward's own aide, Lieutenant Alexandria Clyne carried in a set of files. "Colonel Hawkeye said that you'd want to look these over, sir," she said, "Apparently it's some sort of array that other alchemists are having trouble deciphering."

Edward sighed and shook his head. "Set them on the couch over there. I'll look those over when I'm done with these. Geez, get hurt for a while and the entire office turns into a fire hazard…" He took his pen and began going through the paperwork, steadily working through the urgent business first and moving on to the important paperwork. He'd look at the less vital work later, but he needed to get through his paperwork before he could even trust himself to look at the documents about the unknown array.

~*~

Three days later…

"Oh…. Gate Above help us…"

This was not good. Who knew what damage could have been caused in the time it had taken for the array to have been deciphered? The Fuhrer needed to know about this…

~*~

TBC…