Disclaimer in previous chapters. Please see Author's Notes at the end.

- x -

Riza Hawkeye stepped out of the bathroom, automatically taking a large stride to avoid kicking the large and furry mass she knew would be there.

That was what stopped her, actually.

It wasn't.

To her memory, the only times Black Hayate forwent the opportunity to lick the bottom of the tub dry was when he had been given an extra-large or extra-chewy breakfast, or if there was an intruder in her home. The formers were much more common than the latter, which had happened only once, and had resulted in a very punctured burglar.

And it was doubtful that this was the case this morning, considering the intruder had been invited into the home, and had also been there for three days.

However, Black Hayate hadn't abandoned his shower-cleanup duties on Tuesday or Wednesday, which made her wonder what was so special about today?

Toweling dry her hair, the colonel padded lightly into the main living room of her home. She'd finally decided that they weren't getting transferred out of Central and sprung for a house, though she wasn't sure why. Someday she wanted to settle down, and maybe start a family. Something about having space that was entirely hers appealed to her. No dorms, no military neighbors, just civilians. Neighbors.

People.

The rough sounds of a small ratchet ground from the kitchen, and she followed them to find Winry Rockbell folded up in one of her kitchen chairs. In front of the lithe blonde was a pile of metal, made up into some kind of cage. It shone in the bright morning sunlight. She was apparently putting the finishing touches on it, whatever it was, because she set down the ratchet and whipped out a millimeter ruler.

Then she began a string of swearwords that caused Black Hayate, who was watching her from the middle of the kitchen floor, to cock his head at her in interest.

"Just what do you think you're teaching my dog, Winry Rockbell?"

The girl didn't even flinch, to her credit. She was dressed much as she had been the past two days – work overalls, in this case the front apron actually hung below her waist, revealing the white tank top she customarily wore beneath it. She'd been working on Ed's new automail, having found a very ingenious use for the Tringums when they weren't concentrating on Al.

She was going into town and buying wagonloads of cheap metal scraps, and then using the alchemists to make her steel-iron alloy. And every time they presented her with a nice, shapely piece of whatever it was she had asked for, she would get this oddly predatory gleam in her eyes. Hawkeye was convinced she was going to kidnap one or both of the Tringums when she left for Resembool. She wasn't even sure she'd stop the girl.

Russell Tringum was a National Alchemist, but his brother Fletcher had yet to sit for the test. She had never been close enough with the boys to inquire why, but it did mean Fletcher was free to roam the country or any of its neighbors at any time. She'd have to ask Maria about it, assuming Winry didn't just stuff the boy into a suitcase and carry him off.

It might be a good thing for him to get into, supplying automail mechanics with base metals. Apparently no one had thought to make such an exulted thing as an alchemist perform such a minor service, but he could probably make fair money doing it.

"Sorry," the younger woman finally murmured, lost in her work. "I'll try to stick with the military-approved words from now on."

Riza smiled, and noted a pot of tea had already been made. She helped herself; it was her kitchen, after all. "I see you've spent too much time with Havoc and Breda."

She just shrugged. "They've gotten much better." Then she paused in her work, and turned to look through her bangs at the older woman. "Haven't you guys been able to find Jean a girl yet?"

Riza almost spit out her tea. "It's not as easy as you'd think," she coughed.

The other woman nodded, then picked up a small set of needle-nosed pliers. "Rose got married, finally."

"Oh?" Wasn't that the Lior girl that had been living with her and her aunt in Resembool? The one Scar involved in his plot to transmute the Philosopher's Stone? "Did she marry someone from your hometown?"

"The man who brings the bookcart," she replied, then paused. "And the orphans."

Ah. It did seem as though the woman had more children than she should have at her age. "Is she still living in town?"

Winry picked up the odd cage-like thing, winding her fingers through it deftly. She wiggled them around, watching the results closely. "She's moving back to Lior, actually, now that the reconstruction's been finished." Winry forced the odd mechanism to drum several of its longer, sharp-looking pieces on the table.

Hawkeye watched her for a few moments, then set down her teacup. "Are you angry with him?"

Winry was pulling her hand out of her creation, and didn't answer for a long time. But Riza knew full well the other woman knew to whom she was referring. And why they were having idle chat regarding a woman that, unless Hawkeye was very much mistaken, Winry was jealous of.

Why? Did it have anything to do with Ed's involvement in the plot Scar had come up with? Had he and this Rose grown close in that time? Or did she suspect it?

"I was until I saw him," she finally responded, laying the mechanism gently on the table and breaking out the ratchet again. "I thought he was gone, you know? Alive, but . . . not coming back. Not home, anyway."

Home of course meaning Resembool. The place that still hosted the burned fragments of their childhood home.

And all the memories that had forced mere children to make the decision that they could never return to it.

"I think for Ed, home is anywhere he knows his loved ones are safe," she replied, coming to take a seat at the kitchen table and watch the mechanic at work. "He left to make sure the Thules or any other enemies from that side of the Gate could never come here again."

Winry paused in her work, then sighed. "Stupid," she muttered finally. "What the hell is the problem with men? They think self-sacrifice is noble, that it makes everyone happy, but it doesn't. It doesn't make anyone happy." She wiped at her face, and it was only then that Riza realized she was crying. "I know they didn't mean it, but it felt like they threw us away. They went back there without a second thought."

"I'm sure it was with many second thoughts," she chided gently. "Ed thought he was leaving Alphonse here, you know. He separated the ship that carried them and left Al with Mustang."

Winry looked up at her, her face shining with tears. She had to have been crying the entire conversation, or even before Riza had left the bathroom.

"He left Al?"

Riza just nodded, picking up a stray bolt and turning it over in her fingers. "I think Ed spent more time with you getting fitted with his automail than he spent with Alphonse."

Winry dropped the ratchet into her lap, and her hands soon followed. "Then how . . .?"

Riza half-smiled. "The then-Corporal Mustang didn't have the heart to let Ed make that kind of mistake. He knew full well what gaining and then losing Ed would do to Al, better than I think Ed did. But he couldn't do anything about their return through the doorway. They had to go there and seal it, Winry. There really wasn't any choice. Central would have been decimated if other armies had come through there. Half the city would have collapsed into the underground cavern."

The automail mechanic remained slumped there in the seat. "Just the same, I wish they hadn't gone," she whispered.

Of course, Riza hadn't spent the last three days working on automail watching Al suffer and Ed sleep through the worst of his pain. She'd spent it pouring over every volume the Fullmetal Alchemist had ever written, every report, every communication. Anything to give them a clue as to what the device was, before Research figured it out.

She understood from Frettley that they were being super-careful with it, and Research had come to the same conclusion she had – it probably had to do with the Philosopher's Stone. As such, they were having alchemists look it over, but so far they were not allowing anyone to open it to inspect the contents. There really was no telling what was inside something that stoutly built. Obviously, it was under pressure, as it had a valve system. And it was extremely heavy for its weight.

That fact, however, was the only reason she had Sheska now looking for anything in Ed's reports that did not involve the Philosopher's Stone.

Al had become extremely light, when his armor was transmuted into the Stone. She remembered seeing him almost able to swim, once she'd gotten over her horror at the idea that the blood seal keeping Al's soul tied to the armor was about to be washed away.

That was the only detail she could think of that wasn't in any report, and she could be sure that Hakuro's men would be looking at the Philosopher's Stone information exclusively. While she was doubtful it could be unrelated, she wasn't going to disregard anything.

"How was Al yesterday?"

Winry sniffed quietly, wiping her eyes again. "He's frustrated," she said quietly. "He's still in there, I know he is. He's just . . . he's still very sick."

The fact that pneumonia had set in, thanks to the damage and clots in his lungs, had kept Russell and Fletcher struggling just to prevent the illness from getting any worse. Her understanding of healing alchemy was pretty limited, but it looked an awful lot like human transmutation to her. It was apparently extremely difficult to treat a human illness or injury with alchemy, because each human being was slightly different, therefore the ingredients had to be selected per patient, and there was a lot of trial and error involved in producing a highly efficient treatment.

"But." Winry's voice was forced back to the chipper and professional tone Hawkeye knew well. "I think I've found a way to make him a little happier."

She indicated the metal-like cage in front of her, and Hawkeye stared at it a moment. "I'll . . . take your word for it," she responded, getting back up for her forgotten cup of tea.

Winry looked over her creation critically, then set about packing it in a box.

- x -

"Well, you know Hakuro's never had as much faith in alchemists since Mustang and Armstrong," Russell pointed out. "It was really only a matter of time. It isn't like they're going to be helpful."

"I don't understand why he's got so much sway over the research," Fletcher yawned. "I get that he's higher-ranked than the Flame Alchemist, but Parliament's never really swung one way or the other."

"The general's got a lot of clout. Remember, half the goldcoats were in support of Fuhrer Bradley before he disappeared. Bradley gave Hakuro a lot of attention, so it stands to reason . . ."

Al blinked, and looked at Winry. She seemed to be almost done with whatever it was she was doing. She'd explained to him in a cheerful voice that she was outfitting his hand with 'bionics', but he could neither pick up his head far enough to see what it was, or feel more than the most peripheral of sensations.

After all these years in a human body instead of armor, he missed every sensation that much more. The only one he could really 'feel' in the armor had been temperature – as an alchemist he knew the subtle changes in the iron of his armor had indicated expanding or contracting, thus hot or cold. It hadn't been like feeling, but of all the sensations he missed, he supposed that one had ended up being the most important.

It had told him nii-san's soul would still be at the Gate. That his body was just barely still alive, because it was still warm.

Now he couldn't tell if he was hot or cold. He ached, and that was about it. Fletcher said he'd managed to move his left foot yesterday, but he didn't feel it. The doctors had tried to reassure him his system was still in shock, from blood loss and then from being slightly crushed, but he was certain behind closed doors the men were telling his companions more.

They thought he was permanently damaged. They thought he couldn't understand them.

The Tringums never came out and said it, never seemed less cheerful or less determined in their attempts to heal his body. Without the Red Stone to take the guesswork out of the required ingredients, they weren't having much luck. He wasn't sure what was so damn complicated about it, either, he had a human body like everyone else and it wasn't as though the ingredients were unknown. Purchasable with the pocket change of any child.

Cheaply made.

He was glad nii-san was in another room. He had hoped he'd be better much sooner, so that Edward wouldn't have to see him like this.

Was this because he'd partially decomposed his own body before he'd reached the Gate? Because the Tringums didn't know that it was a possibility, and if he was actually missing ingredients, they didn't have a chance at repairing him. They were treating his symptoms, and in the art of healing alchemy, there were certain things it was accepted couldn't be fixed.

Because then it stopped being about healing merely the body, and crossed over into human transmutation.

He should have died.

It should have been his death that powered the transmutation circle.

But it had probably been their deaths. The deaths of all those people, in the cells below. That was probably what provided the power to get them to the Gate. Maybe to get them all the way through. But then again, maybe he'd traded something else? Something that would explain why he was in this state?

Why couldn't he remember? He'd tried to restore Ed's body again, make him like he was, and Ed had been pulled into the Gate, but then . . .

Then what? Why couldn't he remember?

Hadn't Ed had his real arm and leg?

Then why were they talking about Ed's automail? Why was Winry here at all?

If only he could talk!

Once again, Alphonse Elric opened his mouth. He could do that, now, a little bit. The thing in his throat seemed to get smaller every day, and he could swallow very small amounts of food, but he couldn't force his tongue into anything remotely like a word. It was flat and thick and dry, and he just couldn't make it bend.

"Almost done," Winry assured him, noting his attempt at speech. "It might take a little getting used to, but we'll make it work."

"Oy, what are you doing to him?"

"I told you. I'm outfitting him with bionics."

"And that means . . ."

Winry glanced up at Russell, who looked serious as always. "I noticed he seems to be able to move his right hand a little more consistently than anything else. He curls it up when he's angry . . ." She trailed off, then beamed at Al. "But this will make it like you can use it like normal!"

"How does it work?" Apparently Fletcher had noticed that Winry was a little on the desperate side, and Russell's serious and logical approach was not helping her.

He'd always liked Fletcher.

Winry seemed relieved that it wasn't another complaint. "Well, I've attached these bands to his fingers, here. They control the movement of the mechanical fingers, but it's exaggerated."

"You mean, the fact that his mechanical fingers are bigger than his real ones?"

Al blinked at Winry as she focused back on him, moving to sit just beside his head.

"I mean, all he has to do is move his fingers a little bit, and the mechanical ones will move a lot," she explained, more to him than to Fletcher. "Give it a try, Al."

A little unsure, he tried to wiggle his fingers. There was a slightly clanking sound, and Winry clapped her hands excitedly.

"Very good, Al! Can you move them independently?"

She was clapping because he could wiggle his fingers.

Al closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. This was better than nothing. If he could control this mechanical hand, he could write –

Of course, nii-san said writing with an automail hand was extremely difficult. It had taken him years to learn how.

At least he could give them a thumbs up or down. At least he could communicate on some level.

Hesitantly, he tried to wiggle only his second finger. After a moment, he opened his eyes to find Winry had vanished. Picking up his head slightly, he saw she had moved back to his hand, and was watching it intently.

So no. He couldn't even do that.

"Careful, Al! This is a prototype and you can break it if you do that." Winry was looking back at him with worry. "I'll make it work, Al. Just give me time."

He must have curled it into a fist. Why could he do that and not anything more useful? ! Time was the one thing they didn't have! Not if what the Tringums said was true.

Not if General Hakuro had called in physicists to look at the uranium bomb.

There was no chance Mustang and his subordinates would determine what it was. He and nii-san had removed all record of it from the report, except to say that Huskisson had invited them there to inspect a 'fission-type device,' and after they determined it was pretty much worthless, he had taken it with him when he'd attempted human transmutation. He had vanished with it and then his castle – and research – had inexplicably been destroyed by a series of chained, massive explosions, probably triggered by the failed transmutation.

From what little he'd heard of the current politics, it seemed Colonel Mustang wasn't a colonel anymore. He was now a Major General, well on his way to becoming the Prime Minister – the replacement seat of the Fuhrer. General Hakuro was apparently still alive and well, and was fighting Mustang for the position.

And their arrival had come just before elections.

Not only that, but he was certain the plots of the Homunculi probably hadn't completely vanished yet, and Fuhrer Bradley's aggressive military policy had left a lot of damage and distrust. The Parliament was still in its infancy as far as running the country was concerned, and would probably leap at a weapon that could destroy an entire city in a single explosion. If nothing else, just the threat of it being used would be enough to stop any aggressive moves towards Amestris.

But would the Parliament be wise enough not to use it to expand their borders? Could any government be trusted with something that destructive?

If Ed was still unconscious, and he couldn't speak . . . if the government realized what they had . . .

Well, then he and Ed would have to go and destroy it. And do it in a way that didn't involve Roy Mustang. Luckily, it didn't seem like Huskisson had come back to Amestris, though they hadn't met him on 'Earth,' so maybe he was the only Amestris physicist that had come up with the idea, but . . .

But if they examined it enough to realize what it was, and could build another – then what?

General Hakuro would use it. Al was certain of it.

Assuming Central didn't get completely destroyed when they opened the valve and accidentally set it off.

Then he wouldn't have anything to worry about. There wouldn't be anyone surviving that knew what had destroyed the city of Central – again – in a single day.

A whole city could pay the price of his failure.

"Oh, Al," Winry said softly, and he opened his eyes to find her hovering above him, touching his face.

No. She was wiping his face.

"Please don't cry." Her own eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I just can't bear it. I'll make this work, Al. I promise I will."

- x -

"I think we should wake up Ed."

Sheska glanced up from the report she was going over, staring at him with huge, round eyes.

"But he's in pain! He had to –"

"I know what happened to him." Hadn't he been the one to tell the colonel, after all? "It's a tough break, but he's a tough kid. I'm sure he can handle it."

The sergeant continued to look horrified. Heymans Breda leaned back in his chair, rubbing his scruffy face vigorously with his hand. What he wouldn't kill for a couple hours off, a nap, a shower, and a shave. And a bottle of something tasty.

"We know he doesn't remember what happened, or at least he didn't. But who's to say this thing came from that side of the Gate and not this one? Or that he won't remember now that he's not . . . not as bad off as he was. I mean, hell, the colonel has us looking for anything, now. It can't hurt to ask."

"Can't hurt you," she snapped back. "He's supposed to remain sedated until tomorrow morning. If you want, we can ask him then."

Breda frowned, staring at the paperwork in front of him without actually seeing it. God, this was just a trip down memory lane, the last one had had to do with Ed's first run-in with Scar . . .

"I got a bad feeling about this," he muttered. Waiting seemed wrong. Wrong like setting up an ambush and knowing you should have checked the personnel logs on the supply line, just to make sure you knew all those guys and trusted them, but you figured you could do it in the morning because you didn't expect the enemy for a week.

"Oy. Breda."

He glanced across the table to see Vato Falman watching him with a very strange look on his face.

"Did you just say you had a bad feeling?"

The large man nodded. He really did. Hadn't had this bad feeling in a long time, but he knew better than to call it exhaustion.

That thing the Elrics brought back with them, there was a reason. And he didn't like that it was out of the military's hands now, not one bit. Or that Hakuro had managed to get his own experts in there this morning.

He was up to something. Something that wasn't going to be good for the Elrics, and wasn't going to be good for them.

"The last time you said you had a bad feeling," Vato was thoughtful a moment, "the tracks just ahead of the limited express we were riding were destroyed by the Drachmans."

"I think the time before that was during the Thule Invasion, right after the first earthquake," Kain noted, from behind a huge stack of reimbursement requests. They were hoping to find a receipt outlining all the ingredients that had been used to make the thing, in the hopes it would tell them about when Ed and Al had discovered the device, or even created it.

"You mean, you can predict things?" The sergeant's eyes were wider still, and the accusatory look was fading.

"He can predict when the regiment is about to run out of coffee, at any rate," Ross noted from her own fat file. "I'm pretty sure you said that while waiting in line at the mess last week."

"Hey, wasn't I right?"

"We've spent three days at this, and we've not gotten anywhere," Denny shoved his papers aside. "At this point we're rereading what each other has read in the hopes of catching something. There's nothing here that can help us, at least not in these notes. I agree. If Alphonse can't speak, let's ask Edward."

"I'll phone Alphonse's room," the first lieutenant volunteered. "I think Jean and Winry Rockbell are there. She can confirm it's okay to wake him up at this stage, and Havoc's decent with a pencil. He can probably sketch the device out recognizably enough."

"Where's Alex Armstrong when you need him," Denny murmured. "That guy is ridiculously good at drawing."

"He actually should be around Central somewhere," Sheska noted, as Maria strode across the conference room for the phone. "He heard the Elric brothers had reappeared, and was eager to visit them. He should have gotten in from Lior this morning."

"What's all this talk?"

They might have snapped to attention if it had been Mustang, but then again, maybe not. Even though Hawkeye had used her official colonel voice, no one had the energy to respond appropriately.

"This is a wash," the master sergeant indicated the papers strewn across the table. "We're going to get Havoc to ask Ed, on the off chance he might know."

The colonel's face shifted subtly to concern for a moment. "I'm not certain we can override the authority of his doctor."

"Winry?"

All eyes turned to Maria Ross.

"Yes, hello . . . fine, thank you. How's Alphonse? . . . I see. I'm afraid it is a business call, are any officers with you? . . . yes, he counts as an officer . . . thank you."

Abruptly the first lieutenant tore the phone away from her ear, and they all clearly heard Havoc.

"Oy?"

Maria glared at the earpiece of the phone. "Havoc, have you been drinking?"

His answer was quieter, and she was able to put the phone back to her ear.

"I see. They always did remind me of the Elric brothers . . . find out whether Edward can be woken from sedation today . . . yes . . . no, now actually. And find out if he knows what the device is . . . yes, a sketch would be fine . . . yes . . . thank you."

Havoc was still talking when she hung up the phone.

"They'll find out, and ring us back," she reported, when she realized everyone was staring at her.

Hawkeye nodded. "Has anyone seen the Major General in recent history?"

All eyes looked at each other blankly, then looked back at the colonel.

She swore quietly, and marched back into her office.

- x -

"That's it."

Alphonse gritted his teeth, and tried to remember exactly what it felt like to write. Exactly how it was to grip chalk in his armor hands, when he couldn't feel it at all. Exactly how much pressure he'd learned his iron fingers could exert before the chalk broke. This hand didn't work quite the same, but it seemed to be a better approximation than his actual, physical hand was.

"Okay, you've picked it up," Fletcher told him. All three had their eyes on the right-hand side of his bed.

Painstakingly, he drew out the largest, clearest B he could. No one said anything, but there were a few furrowed eyebrows, and he could hear the chalk grinding on the slate. So he was writing something. Maybe they'd recognize the word when he finished it.

O. M. B.

Surely they couldn't mistake those shapes for anything else.

"Six . . ."

". . . and then I guess a zero . . ."

"Then an M!"

"And a D. Sixty MDs?"

Three confused faces turned back to him, and he just closed his eyes, and tried again.

"Is this about the device?"

He waved his hand emphatically, or at least imagined it was waving.

"Okay, so that's what it is," Winry soothed. "You're telling us about it. What it is. Sixty what?"

He shook his hand emphatically, trying to keep it on a vertical plane only. They'd picked that up pretty quickly.

"No. Not sixty something?"

He shook his hand again.

"Okay." Russell's voice held some authority. "Al, is the first symbol a six?"

He indicated no.

"Is it a number?"

Another no.

"Is it a letter?"

This time he waggled the hand all around.

"Okay, not a six. Is it a b?"

More hand-waggling.

"Okay. Second symbol." Fletcher seemed to be catching on to what his brother was getting at. "Is that a letter?"

He imagined he was getting pretty good at flapping his mechanical hand around.

"It's an O, isn't it," Winry asked quietly.

He listened to the almost pleasant clink of the mechanical hand.

"Okay. Third symbol, is it an M?"

Once he'd indicated that, Fletcher took a sharp breath.

"Bomd? No –"

"Bomb," Russell said quietly.

Al tried to shake the mechanical parts right off his actual hand.

"It's a bomb? But, it's so tiny."

He shook his hand as hard as he could.

"It's a powerful bomb, isn't it." Fletcher's voice was very subdued.

Winry's makeshift prosthetic hand clinked.

"Someone call up the colonel. We need to warn them before those idiots set it off."

- x -

His breath tickled the bottom of his lungs, and he coughed. It hurt to cough, and he took a careful breath when he was done, testing his lungs. They didn't want to expand properly, but after a moment they did so, and he realized he was awake.

The second thing he realized was that his arm hurt.

His arm hurt a lot.

And so did his leg.

Memories came flooding back, and his eyes flew open. They didn't hurt like they did, but they still hurt. Hurt almost like when he'd first gotten his automail.

The first thing he saw was a white ceiling. For some reason, that tripped a panic response in him, and he gasped as adrenaline flooded his system. He obviously wasn't in the colonel's office anymore, and he blinked, then picked his head up and glanced around.

He was lying in a hospital bed, but clearly not a German one. For one thing, the equipment was much different. Outside of one needle in his arm, there was nothing else there. For another, Jean Havoc was sitting on the edge of his bed, furiously scribbling on a pad of paper.

Jean Havoc. Not his doppelganger back on Earth. The soldier was in his oddly unwrinkled blue Amestris military uniform.

He was really back in Amestris.

But . . . how? He'd barely heard the colonel when he'd told him Al had gone with him, and Hawkeye had said that was four years ago . . . could they have been stuck in the gate for four years? What pulled them out again?

Where was Al?

"H-Havoc." It was hard to talk; and the man jumped up and went to a small table by the window, pouring a glass of water. The sound of liquid sloshing into a cup had never sounded so inviting, and he reached out fairly greedily when the second lieutenant held it out.

He was more than halfway through the glass when he realized Havoc was wearing far too many stripes.

He was a Lieutenant Colonel.

"Sorry to wake you up like this, Edward." He sounded truly sorry. "I've got to ask you a quick question, and then Doctor Patterson will put you back to sleep."

"No." He shook his head, handing the glass back to the other man before using his arm to lever himself up. The right one was gone; that hadn't been a dream, then. He glanced at his right shoulder, surprised to see it wrapped up. It hurt like the dickens, too, but it was a shadow of the pain he'd felt the first time. "What's wrong with my automail?"

"We have to replace the port," the doctor volunteered, stepping away from the door. He was a very young man that Ed didn't recognize. "There was too much damage to the existing one, so-"

Ed almost swore.

The military hospital had touched his automail.

Winry was going to kill him.

"Don't worry, Ed. We called in your usual mechanic."

Ed glanced back at Havoc, relief fading as he remembered what else he'd been told when he first woke up. "Where's Al?" Please let him have come back with me. Please don't let me have left him in the Gate -

The man's eyes remained bright, which meant he was hiding something. "Al is in another ward, Ed. He got shot."

Al . . . was shot? In the Gate?

No. They must have passed back through the Gate, then. And then –

And then back again, to get to Amestris.

Four years? How could he have forgotten four years?

Was this like when he'd resurrected Al, but the Al that had been trapped in the Gate since their failed transmutation? Had he paid for passage with his memories?

And if that was what he had paid . . . then what had Al sacrificed?

"Is he okay? Let me see him –" He was about to throw the sheet off the bed when he realized his leg hurt much like his arm, and probably for the same reason.

He couldn't walk.

He currently had no ports. Just the stumps. No way to attach an automail limb even if there was a spare lying around.

He couldn't perform alchemy, either. At least not without something to write with.

"He'll be fine, Ed. I'm afraid I woke you up for another reason."

His tone was still serious, and Ed stared at him a moment. The man shoved the notepad he'd been scribbling on in front of him.

"Do you recognize this?"

It was rough, but recognizable. A round, red ball, encased in a cross cage of steel, complete with a chain dangling off the top.

He knew his expression gave him away when Havoc lowered the drawing, and leaned in closer.

"You recognize it, don't you."

It couldn't be . . . how had it come back . . .

Had it come back with them?

Why in the world had they brought it, intact, back to Amestris? If they could perform alchemy, why hadn't they destroyed it? Did it have something to do with the reason Al had gotten shot?

"W-where is it now?"

Jean glanced at the doctor, who held up his hands placatingly and left the room. The moment the door had clicked closed, Havoc leaned back slightly, fishing a cigarette out of his pocket.

"Department of Research has it. Alchemists can't identify it, so Hakuro sent in a couple physicists."

Ed's blood ran cold.

Had they done this?

"Tell them to stop analyzing it, right now." If the physicists were the same kind here in Amestris as the ones on Earth, they were going to try to figure out a way to open it in a contained space, knowing it was under pressure –

And Central was going to go up in a mushroom cloud. Just as he and his father had seen when they'd passed through the Gate to Earth.

"What is it –"

"It's a bomb. A uranium bomb." The cat was out of the bag, there was no reason to hide it from him any longer. "According to Huskisson, the physicist that made it, it's destructive power is huge. It can destroy the entire city."

Havoc discarded his cigarette thoughtlessly, immediately reaching for the phone beside Ed's bed.

"Where'd it come from?"

Ed swallowed, suddenly glad he'd had nothing but that glass of water. "Here. It came from Amestris. It was transmuted through the gate by Huskisson when – when Al and I refused to bring it to the military's attention."

- x -

The hallway door opened swiftly, though it made no sound, and Sheska jumped to attention. Beside her, Denny and Maria were quick to notice both her reaction and who had entered the office.

"Major General, sir! We have news-"

He cut them off with the wave of his hand. "I know."

Sheska's first instinct was to relax. Obviously he'd been at the hospital when Al and Ed had both managed to explain what the device was, which was why he'd been hard to get ahold of. He had probably been foolishly using his own name to secure the device back to the military.

But he didn't look pleased. He was a hard man to judge, but right now he looked –

He looked like he had when he'd gone to visit Maes Hughes' widow.

Another door opened, and this time the colonel emerged. She opened her mouth, then immediately closed it again. They all just stared at him as he pulled off his uniform cap and shook off some water.

"Hakuro's physicists figured it out about two hours ago," he informed them. "I've just returned from an emergency meeting of Parliament and military. The Parliament will be voting on using the device for testing purposes on our northern border, in the Briggs Mountain range, as a warning and to confirm the destructive force. As of this moment, they don't believe the Elric brothers manufactured the bomb, and the physicists believe they can make another. Ed and Al are free to go as soon as they are released from physician care."

Sheska stared at him, then turned to the colonel. She was the first to accept the bad news, and simply asked, "What are your orders?"

He glanced around the office, seeming to really see them for the first time. All of his subordinates had been working around the clock to beat the research department, and she knew they all looked a little rough around the edges.

"Go home," he said quietly. "Take a few hours, get cleaned up. Return by 1200."

Then, without another word, he marched into his office, and pulled the door closed behind him.

Sheska looked back towards the colonel, whose expression was almost blank.

"You have your orders. Try to get some rest."

- x -

Author's Notes: Longest chapter so far, but at least we've moved the plot forward, eh? I would guess it'll be two more parts, but I thought this thing was only going to be a few chapters, so I think I'll just stop while I'm ahead. Thank you, Silverfox, for pointing out the typos! I will go back and fix them immediately!

And this is pretty much the only other chance you guys'll get to suggest any other plotholes that need to be cleaned up – yet to be covered, how the Gate works in relation to the brothers, where Ed's arm and leg are, how Al's soul transmutation works . . . aaand I think that's it. I've gotten everything else I could think of. If you have anything that's been bugging you about the FMA anime universe, let me know and I'll see what I can do! As always, I apologize for the typos, and thank you all for the hits, faves, c2s, and reviews!