Nothing Left to Give

Regret for the things we did can be tempered by time;

it is regret for the things we did not do that is inconsolable.

-Sydney J. Harris

Chapter 3: No More Secrets

R-2-F

It was nearly an hour after sundown when the three men finally boarded the train. As expected the train was packed full with the injured and refugees; what the trio had not expected was the panic and disorder that greeted them. Men and women frantically searched for family members they had been separated from them during the Naturalists' attack, as orphaned children wandered aimlessly throughout the halls, searching for parents that they could not seem to find. Others sat amidst strangers, silent in their grief for the loss of loved ones.

It was nauseating.

"Joshua, come on." Russell bade over his shoulder, his eyes belying that the blond was just as unsettled by the chaos surrounding them as his friend, despite the eldest Tringham's indifferent facade. "Fletcher found some seats over here."

Ed obediently trailed behind the blond but found he could not tear his eyes away from the chaos around him. His eyes fell upon one particular child who was so soot covered that you could not discern any of his features. The youth's angry gaze was directed at nothing in particular, but the look in his eyes was the same look that Ed had once seen in his own. The boy seemed to notice the older man's searching gaze, for his sharp eyes raised to meet gold.

"What are you lookin' at?" The boy demanded defensively.

Ed replied with a grim smile. "Nothing."

"Joshua!" Russell called again, this time a hint of irritability lining his voice. "Hurry up!" The blond was now well ahead of Ed and could barely be seen through the crowd. If Ed didn't hurry, he would completely lose sight of them. With that thought in mind Ed began to push his way through the crowd, rejoining the others in minutes. They sank into their seats as one, shoulder to shoulder in the crowded car.

The seat across from them was occupied by an old man and what appeared to be his grandson, if their similar looks were anything to go by. The pair looked more than a little worse for wear; the old man was covered in scrapes and burns and the boy was cradling a broken wrist against his chest. Ed knew without asking that the pair had not escaped before the Naturalists' attack fell.

The train began moving with a sudden lurch, causing many of the injured to cry out in pain at the unexpected shift. Ed watched through the window as the scenery began to pass by with increasing speed until everything had become a blur, but by then his mind was already miles away. Thoughts of a certain raven haired General plagued Ed. What if Mustang hadn't been able to handle such overwhelming numbers? What if the Naturalists had taken him as a Prisoner of War? Or worse? What if they had--

"Joshua?"

Not a day had gone by in the past seven years that the brunette had not thought of the raven haired alchemist, but to see him again under such circumstances had proved to be Ed's undoing. He had risked both his life and Fletcher's because he had been unwilling to leave Mustang's side. Had it not been for Rick's appearance, Ed could have gotten them both killed. The realization made it hard for Ed to look the other man in the eye."What?" He snapped irritably, his eyes narrowing in annoyance.

Russell's eyes flashed slightly at the older man's tone but the blond chose not to comment. There were more pressing matters at hand. "What happened?" He demanded lowly, unwilling to let another moment pass without knowing what had occurred in Xenotime that had unsettled the brunette so.

"What are you talking about?" Ed asked flatly, his gaze falling on his turned-flesh hand.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about." Russell growled in return, bending his head to look Ed straight in the eye. When the brunette continued to avoid the blond alchemist's gaze, things seemed to click into place for Russell. "…You saw him, didn't you?"

Russell felt Fletcher tense behind him but did not so much as spare his younger brother a glance. They had danced around this topic for seven years, and after recent events it had become clear that it could go on no longer like that. Finally, it was time for all the cards to be laid out on the table for the world to see.

Ed's head snapped up in surprise. "What?" He felt his breath catch in his throat. His logical half told he that there was no way that Russell knew exactly which 'him' it was that they had encountered, yet Ed could not help but feel the slightest inkling of doubt rising within him. Did Russell know his secret?

"You know exactly who I'm talking about, don't you…Ed?"

R-2-F

"Get Major General Archer on the line now." Roy Mustang snarled as he stormed into the communications tent just after dusk. The Flame Alchemist's clothes were tattered and torn and his skin was caked with soot and blood, giving him an aura that could be best described as feral. Despite his disheveled state it was not the raven's appearance that stood out the most, but the angry flashing of his onyx eyes. The General fixed his smoldering gaze on the Head of Communications officer and watched as the smaller man clumsily rose, somehow managing to tangle himself in the wires surrounding him in his haste.

"G-General Mustang!" Cain Feury stammered, blinking sheepishly from the disarray of wires now entangled around his form. He struggled to raise his arm to salute his commanding officer but managed only a small wave. The mousy Sergeant Major's glasses slid down his nose as he stilled suddenly in his struggles to free himself as he took a good look at his friend and superior's appearance. "S-sir!" He stammered, his eyes appearing much larger than usual without his glasses framing them. "None of that bl-blood is yours, i-is it?"

The General ignored his subordinate's concern. "Now, Cain."

"Sir!" The smaller man squeaked in reply, somehow managing to step away from the tangle of wires and turn to the other two members of the communications team. He nervously tugged at the collar of his uniform and cleared his throat as he made an attempt at sounding stern. "You heard the General! Establish a secure connection with Central Headquarters immediately! Get Major General Archer on the line!"

"Yes, Sergeant Major!" The two other men chorused.

Feury nodded in satisfaction as the two younger men set off to do the task assigned to them and reclaimed his own seat in the center of the switchboard. The mousy Sergeant's fingers flew across the switches and knobs on the board, adjusting them this way and that until he was satisfied. It was always an interesting thing to see Feury in his element.

"Establishing a connection between Base 4-0-2 and Central Headquarters. Authorization code 2-0-0-8-0-5-1. Connection confirmed. Line secure. Now establishing direct connection with Major General Frank Archer." Feury nodded, seemingly satisfied and nodded towards the phone that still rested in it's cradle beneath the General's hand. "Connection authorized."

Mustang nodded and lifted the phone to his ear, his eyes immediately flashing. " This is Brigadier General Roy Mustang." He stated in a clipped voice, his hand squeezing the phone's handle viciously. There was a moment's pause before the General spoke again without an ounce of formality in his tone. "What the hell happened, Archer?"

Another several seconds of silence.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about." Roy growled, his eyes narrowed and fixed on a random spot before him. There was a dangerous set in the General's jaw that kept any of the other occupants of the communications tent from making noise of any kind. "My entire unit was nearly wiped out because of your negligence! You ignored the request for backup and in doing so single handedly compromised the entire mission." The General's fist suddenly slammed down on the desk with enough force that it caused the entire table to tremble beneath the blow. "Of course we didn't complete the mission! Doing so would have been nothing less than suicidal."

Everyone present heard the Major General's reply, but none of them were willing to believe that they had heard him right. That is until Mustang's enraged response proved them correct in their assumptions.

"You bastard." Roy hissed, clutching the phone tight enough that the plastic cracked beneath his hold. Before he could get another word in the man on the other end of line was speaking once again, his voice as cool and in control as ever. This only served to sever the General's already fragile nerves even further, but he continued to listen in silence for several moments. It sounded as if the General was receiving new orders. "...Very well." He replied reluctantly, his voice still holding a sharp edge to it.

The three other occupants of the tent all jumped as the enraged General slammed the phone back into it's cradle with enough force to break the contraption as if it were nothing more than a twig. His shoulders heaved as Mustang fought valiantly to regain control of his raging emotions. The others in the tent awaited with baited breath for the raven to speak again with a sense of increasing dread.

"Start packing. We leave at sunrise."

Feury sputtered in response, rising from his seat and gaping at his friend. "So soon? But we haven't even had time to regroup--"

"I'm blindingly aware of this, Sergeant. However, orders are orders." Mustang interrupted shortly, running a hand through his hair and only causing it to look even more disorderly than before. The weariness in the General's eyes stood out even more acutely now and an almost defeated aura hung about him. Even as he began to move towards the opening in the tent flap his movements were sluggish at best and it seemed as if will alone was keeping him standing. The conversation with the Major General had taken the last ounce of strength from the Flame Alchemist.

Feury dropped his eyes and shuffled his feet. "And what are our orders, General?"

Roy paused, holding the tent flap open with one hand but not stepping through the opening just yet. A brief moment of silence passed where it seemed as if the Flame Alchemist was considering his words. "We're to head to Western Headquarters first thing tomorrow morning to collect the new recruits." He trailed off and his scowl darkened. "Then we're to head to Drachma."

"But sir!" One of the other communications officers exclaimed. "They're sending us to the front lines?"

Roy ducked through the tent flap without offering any further answers, but that was enough of an answer in itself

R-2-F

"So you knew all along but didn't say anything."

The three men now sat with a heavy veil of silence hanging in the air about them. Ed sat in the corner next to the window and Fletcher beside him, with Russel sitting across from the pair and next to the old man and his granddaughter, both of who were fast asleep despite the nearly suffocating anxiety that filled the compartment. The tension was thick enough it seemed it could be easily cut with a knife, yet there was not even a hint of hostility evident in any of the three men.

"Basically." Russell conceded without so much as a hint of remorse.

Fletcher was quick to cut in and fulfill his self-appointed role of peacemaker. The youngest Tringham was never able to stand it when the older two men fought and when such an occasion did arise the young blond was always quick to step between the pair. "--But we didn't want to say anything!" He insisted, desperate to plead their case. "We knew that something bad had happened back at Central, we just didn't know the details! But...we couldn't believe..." The blond faltered, fumbling on his words as he searched to find the right wording. "that General Mustang would betray the state--"

Ed shot out of his seat so fast that it scared the three men, including himself. "Mustang didn't betray anyone!" He snarled as his hands curled into fists at his side. The anguished conviction in his voice was more than enough to silence anything that the others might have said. Tears welled in golden eyes but they refused to spill. "The real traitor...was the Fuhrer." He whispered at length, his voice breaking painfully. "Bradley wanted Mustang out of the way because he was too smart to blindly follow orders. He--" The brunette's tirade abruptly came to a halt as he seemed to choke on his words. "He...he was trying to protect me."

Neither brother could think of anything to say as the brunette fell bonelessly back into his seat. Silence once again filled the compartment, though this time it was borne of something much more sinister. Both brothers knew that they were on the brink of learning the truth about what happened seven years ago that had so totally and completely destroyed the man they had once known as Edward Elric. Despite this, it would be a lie if either blond said they didn't dread hearing the truth.

"What happened, Ed?" Russell finally asked, his usually gruff voice uncharacteristically soft.

"It all seems like it happened a lifetime ago." Ed chuckled hollowly. "Me and Al were assigned to look into rumors about a Philosopher's Stone in Xing, and as usual it turned out to be a false lead. When we arrived at HQ we found the base being attacked by Scar. I...ignored orders and stuck around; Mustang told us to get the hell out of there, but I was too hard headed to listen. I..." The brunette trailed off painfully, a hand raising to cover his face. "I d-distracted him and g-gave Scar an opening. He transmuted the General's leg."

Both brothers gasped in surprise at this. They both had heard tales of the feared IshballianAlchemist's techniques. It caused their stomachs to turn painfully, but it was nothing compared to the raw pain that was present on Ed's face as he recalled the encounter.

"Mustang managed to defeat Scar, but it put him in a coma. He stayed that way for nearly seven months." The blonde's eyes had taken on a haunted gleam. "When he finally woke up he couldn't remember anything after the Eastern Rebellion. But...but at the same time as all of this was happening...the war with Drachma was just beginning. With the General out of commission Bradley had free reign. He sent regiment after regiment to Drachma without explanation. You heard the rumors; men disappeared by the dozen there each day without a trace. Nearly half of the soldiers the State sent to that country wound up dead or missing without any evident cause. It was obvious that the Fuhrer was up to something...that he had something up his sleeve." Ed paused, frowning thoughtfully. He ran a hand absentmindedly through his hair, seeming surprised to find it as short as it was. It seemed the brunette had nearly lost himself in the past.

"I can't say when it started, but Mustang started to get suspicious. He was slowly regaining his memories as the weeks went by and he returned to duty after only a few weeks leave. After that everything went downhill."

Fletcher frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Bradley planned to send me and Al to Drachma." Ed whispered, his voice thickly laced with anguish. "He gave Mustang the orders...but that...idiot...he sent us on another mission. Mustang defied orders to save my ass and in doing so put his own on the line. He was already on dangerous ground with Bradley, and that was the last straw. The Fuhrer had him sentenced to death on charge of treason."

Russell's eyes were narrowed in understanding. "So that's what it was." He nodded, seeming to think the brunette's words over. "It explains a lot; the General didn't seem like the kind of person to throw away his career so easily." He met Ed's eyes meaningfully. "Unless it was for the person who's life he va awoke at the sudden noise but said nothing, a knowing look entering his tired eyes. He held hilued more than his own."

Ed's breath caught.

"Al kept in touch with us after you guys left." Fletcher supplied quietly. "He told us about the General's relationship with you." The youngest blond gave a weak smile. "I was so happy to find out you'd finally found a bit of happiness, Ed."

The sound of his brother's name caught Ed off guard, and a fresh wave of tears welled in his eyes. A hand flew to his mouth as he struggled to fight off the sudden tidal wave of emotions that flooded his senses. Just hearing Alphonse's name was enough to cause the brunette's heart to stop. Not once in the past seven years had Ed allowed himself to so much as think about his brother.

Fletcher and Russell looked at each other in panic, neither knowing what they had said wrong. Fletcher felt tears of his own welling in his eyes as he watched his older brother grab Ed by the shoulders and pull him in an awkward hug. Russell looked over his friend's bent head at Fletcher as he fought to keep the brunette in his hold as Ed tried to shove the younger man away.

"Ed, what's wrong??" Russell demanded as he fought to control the older man's thrashing.

The sudden noise had awoken the other two occupants of the compartment. The elderly man looked at Ed for a long moment before he locked eyes with Fletcher in silent understanding. He knew the look in the distraught man's eyes well enough to sympathize. It was a look of utter grief and misery; a look that could only belong to someone who had lost everything he once held dear.

Ed went suddenly limp in Russell's hold, shocking the blond by burying his face in Russell's soiled shirt. The brunette's hands fisted in the fabric of the shirt desperately, as if attempting to reassure himself that the younger man was still there. Russell could feel wetness creeping into the material against his chest and was shocked to realize that the older man was actually crying.

"He's gone." Ed whimpered pathetically, tightening his hold on Russell's shirt. "Al's gone."

And with those four words, everything clicked.

R-2-F

When Roy reached his tent it was to find it already occupied by two other soldiers. The General did nothing to acknowledge the pair's presence as he dropped onto his sleeping mat unceremoniously and began to pry off his boots. He grimaced as his aching muscles protested the motion but still he managed to get both shoes off before collapsing into a heap. As soon as his head had touched the ground, Roy's eyed drifted shut on their own accord to claim some much needed rest.

"You look like hell, Commander."

Roy groaned at that familiar drawl. "Go to hell, Jean." He growled, clenching his eyes shut stubbornly. He felt someone kneel next to him moments before he felt a cool hand pressed against his forehead; a hand that most definitely did not belong to Havoc. Reluctantly, he cracked open his eyes to meet the worried gaze of Riza Havoc.

"General," Riza said softly as her eyes took in the other's appearance. Worry etched her every feature but it was clear the First Lieutenant was making a conscious effort to not suffocate the other. "we have to get your wounds dressed before you sleep." She glanced at Jean to find the Second Lieutenant already crouched beside her with a change of clothes.

With the aid of the other two Roy was able to once again sink into his bedding only moments later, this time dressed in much cleaner clothing. The General could not suppress a sigh of relief as his head hit the make-shift pillow made of his uniform jacket. Still, he found he couldn't relax completely due to the other two watching him so intently.

"I'm fine." He growled without opening his eyes to look at them.

"No, you're not." Riza scowled. "You're malnourished, you're exhausted, and you're injured." The blond Lieutenant would be lying if she claimed not to gain a bit of satisfaction at the other's grimace. "You're anything but fine."

"And so are half of my men." Roy sat up painfully to meet the other's gaze evenly. "Most of them are even worse off than I am."

Neither Jean nor Riza could deny this, and neither attempted to do so. Instead, Jean chose an attempt at changing the conversation. "The mail finally got here." He said in a forcefully cheerful tone. "It only took them three weeks, but who am I to complain?" He chuckled dryly as he reached inside of his uniform coat to retrieve a letter and held it out to the older man. "This came for you."

Roy eyed the letter but made no move to take it.

"It's from Emma."

Roy visibly stiffened at the sound of that name but still did not take the letter. Instead, he laid back down and turned so that his back was facing the other two in quiet dismissal. He heard Hawkeye's sigh and grimaced guiltily. He didn't mean to cause her to worry so much but it seemed that was all he could do as of late. The battle had been hard on all of them and his friends needed rest as much as any of them.

"...Get some rest." He said at length, shifting uncomfortably on the threadbare blanket.

"You can't avoid her forever, Roy." Riza replied sternly as she rose from her crouching position. "She loves you... and I know that you love her just as much."

Roy's gaze darkened.

"No one can love a killer."

R-2-F

Author's Note: So...hi. I'm sorry about this taking so long to put out, but this is the quickest I could get an update up. Between work and school I've been a bit crazed, and I'm still tweaking the plot a bit here and there. I'm not going to make any promises about getting out updates any quicker, but I will work my hardest.

So I bet right about now half of you are ready to kill this Emma girl. Am I right? Just wait..you'll meet her eventually! Poor Ed...I put that kid through so much angst, but it's nothing compared to what I do to Roy!! Have you noticed that? I've noticed that...

Thanks to all of you who have stuck with me! Thirty reviews in two chapters? That's pretty kick ass, I must say.

Happy Valentines Day everyone!!

Till next time!!

R2R