THIS FANFICTION IS FAN-MADE AND IS NO WAY ASSOCIATED WITH EITHER ANIME COMPANY IN ANY WAY. ALL COPYRIGHTS GO TO THE RESPECTED OWNERS.

Gunslinger Alchemist: A Crossover Fanfiction

"The boy has a mechanical body, but he is still an adolescent child…"

Chapter 3: A Second Chance to Live, to Laugh

Special Thanks to: OrangeKittyAlchemist-Sony, windelf, mooneasterbunny, Amy, Sora Kusanagi, Merkitten, I Know Your Name, and ursweetheartless. Much Love!!

A/N: The BGM for the end of the second to last scene is Lilium(Saint Version) from Elfen Lied

"You've grown a little bit since the last time at your checkup, Ed."

"Really, you think so?"

"Yeah, but you're still a bean."

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING A HALF-PINT MIDGET?!!!"

Mustang chuckled and playfully ruffled Edward's hair.

"Colonel, you're just really tall! Anyone looks short compared to you!" the boy argued angrily, clenching his fists. Because of his short stature, many people off-hand commented on it, resulting in a sudden outburst from Edward who objected they said something completely different. Ed hated nothing more than being called "short" in any form. And Mustang liked nothing more than to push his student's buttons.

"That doesn't matter. You're thirteen now. Maybe you've skipped your growth spurt!"

"It's coming, you just wait!"

"Yeah, right."

Walking down the halls of the Society, the Colonel was accompanied by a small boy with long blonde hair tied up in a ponytail and sweet golden eyes. In any ordinary case, people would assume the boy was Mustang's son as they were constantly together, almost joined at the hip and they talked so indifferently.

But this was no ordinary boy. He wore the condemned State Military uniform and wasn't as complete as he seemed. His right arm and left leg were of steel components hidden by his clothing sleeves and a pair of simple white gloves. His mind had been wiped clean of all past memories to make room for the future lessons of the ultimate weapon…

Mustang himself had witnessed the operation being done from a higher level, his hands stuffed in his pockets. The boy was lying unconsciously on the table, a myriad of doctors surrounding his small frame.

The single moment the artificial automail nerves had been connected and the shot blunting his childhood memories was inserted was the first time the boy had opened his eyes in over a month, even though it was only for less than a second. And it was also the moment he was no longer considered a human.

…

Glancing up at him after waking up in the recovery room, the Colonel was the first person Edward had seen after the surgery. The Colonel gave him a somewhat stern, somewhat comforting look. "You're awake, finally. Are you hungry?" he asked rather flatly.

Edward shook head after struggling to sit up against the bed's headboard. "No," he replied, his gaze turning toward his incomplete automail arm still constricted with wires and tubes and lying limply on the bed. The boy moved the metal fingers by himself, in sheer amazement, one after the other. The pain in the movement provoked a shock of pain up his arm which caused him to wince.

"The arm at least seems to work well after all; that's good," Mustang said. Reaching into his holster, the Colonel took out the hand gun and put it on the end of the bed.

Edward looked up, confused at the action.

"My name is Colonel Roy Mustang."

…

On the first day of Edward's shooting practice, the eleven-year-old boy was more than a little nervous, seeing as he had never done anything like it before.

It had only been a week after he had been released from the hospital after spending little over six months there during rehab, yet he was suddenly whisked off to the Society, their true intentions for him he didn't completely understand. He had no idea why his arm and leg were of replaced with steel equivalents, although he was said to have lost them in an accident years ago. During the time to get accustom to the automail arm, he was issued a wheelchair to get around more easily while the leg had its final touches imputed.

The rehabilitation process in general at the Society had been extremely painful, causing frequent trips to the hospital and many modifications. Some days he could barely move on account of the pain and constant fevers. Still, he had been given a room and board to himself and good food every day. The people were seemingly kind towards him.

He had been told everything that day he woke up in the recovery room by the Colonel, who had supervised his lessons and been at his side ever since. He had said Edward had an important job to do, that no other person in the world could do. The people would be nice to him as long as he did exactly what he was told. Edward trusted his words for the time being.

At the present, the boy stood motionless at the front of the shooting booth, a small hand gun occupying his left palm. Wearing a simple red t-shirt, sandals and shorts, Edward loaded the pistol and cocked it at his side. He had been given countless lessons before he was even allowed to touch it: how to reload it, when and where to aim at the body, etc. He had diligently memorized all the books and instructions, yet he still felt the presence of insecurity within his young mind.

The Colonel was sitting cross legged on a bench, wearing a black coat and pants instead of his regular Military uniform. Getting up from his seat, the instructor briskly walked over to the back of his student.

"Now stand with your legs apart, that's right, and hold the gun out gently," Mustang instructed, moving the boy's fingers in the right position. Edward did as he was told. "Remember to keep your fingers off the trigger until you're ready to shoot. Try aiming for at least the chest area." Mustang pointed toward the black human shaped metal cut-out with target circles seven meters away. "It'll be a bit loud and it'll kick, so don't be scared, okay?"

"Yes, sir," Edward nodded obediently. Aiming carefully towards the cut-out, the boy pulled the trigger releasing a loud bang, making Edward wince from the recoil. The bullet remarkably ended up striking right at the edge of the inner most circle in the chest area, the bullet casing falling to the concrete floor with a clink.

"Whoa, I can't believe it's your first time to shoot; those prosthetics are something else." Mustang stared in disbelief, hinting at a sign of praise.

Edward bit his lip, looking up at the mixed message across the Colonel's face. "Did I do good?" he asked softly.

"Yeah, you did good," Mustang said with a rare smile, ruffling the boy's shaggy blonde hair. "You just keep it up, okay?" he finished urgently, regaining his stature.

The smile on Edward's face slowly grew. He playfully tilted his head and saluted with his uncovered right steel arm. "Yes, sir!"

…

"The kid's been getting really good this past year."

"Humph."

"You sound like you don't care about the welfare of your own student."

Mustang shot Hughes a glare that was heavily worn down by lack sleep.

"What's with you these days? You look like you lost weight."

Mustang leaned forward and banged his head against the glass window that overlooked the Central Command training field courtyard. The Society members had a private section all to themselves. "Yep," he replied flatly. "I've barely slept these past few months." He loosed his tie and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"It shows. Paperwork piling up, isn't it?" Hughes asked casually folding the cuffs of his coat sleeves.

Mustang cringed as he nodded. "THEY'VE REALLY GOT IT IN FOR ME!!! I'M BEING WORKED TO DEATH, I SWEAR!!! ROY MUSTANG: AGE 26, DIED OF EXHAUSION DUE TO PROCRASTINATION!!!" he yelled furiously, throwing up his hands in agony.

"Damn it Roy, calm down!" Hughes yelled over his friend, roughly shaking his shoulders.

"Ugh." Mustang limply fell back head first against the window, banging his head again. "Oww…" he muttered, straightening up and rubbing his forehead which was red from the bump. He looked out through the one way glass into the courtyard watching as a young twelve-year-old came running in from a back entrance. "But I haven't lost sleep over just paperwork…"

The courtyard was just an empty field of dirt that failed to grow anything besides several tuffs of grass here and there and a few wilting leafless trees grouped together. It was mainly used for sparing practices between employees, more recently as a training field for Edward.

A large pile of discarded alchemified dirt weapons including spears, throwing knives, and guns lay forgotten in the corner, crumbling and worn down by the frequent usage and many confrontations. Some were much more elaborate compared to others. There were hints of burn marks and small randomly scattered ditches where the transmutations were held. Rows of shooting targets were lined up at the rear and a long tape line drawn at ten meters was marked. Here Edward practiced everyday with Mustang, more recently by himself, not knowing the teacher still critiqued his student through a one way glass window.

Running out to a bare spot of dirt wearing his new Military jacket the Colonel had given him the other day, Edward tied back his now long blonde hair in a high ponytail. Taking in a deep breath he swiftly clapped his gloved hands and steadily slammed them on the ground, releasing a spew of bright blue lightning.

The lightning twisted and turned the dirt until it resembled remarkably like a standard Military issued hand gun, leaving a small circle of missing dirt on the ground from the transmutation. This was his kind of alchemy, the rare form without the mandatory requirement of a transmutation circle.

After picking up the gun and closely examining the intricate details, he took a few spare bullets from his pocket and loaded the magazine. He aimed at a small tuff of grass about a meter away and shot it as a test for accuracy. It worked perfectly in every respect.

"Not bad, eh Black Hayate?" Edward smirked, turning toward the sweet-faced, medium sized, blank and white dog that had followed him to the field. The dog was frequently seen around the grounds, following random officials and coming and going as he pleased. Secretly, Edward envied its freedom. The dog seemed to belong to Mustang, as he was seen feeding it every day, although he never spoke of it.

Black Hayate barked happily and wagged its tail. Edward knelt down on his knee and smiled warmly, petting the dog's furry little head. "Good boy! I bet you're hungry, aren't you?"

The dog barked as if it understood and panted.

"Okay, watch this!" Edward smirked and clapped his hands again. Releasing the same blue lightning as before, he once again summoned the powers of alchemy, this time using a pile of dirt and shaping it into a pile of dog treats. "How's that?"

The dog responded by practically pouncing on top of his chest, knocking him to the ground and licking his face as a sort of thank you. "Agh! Ah ha ha ha ha! Stop that, it tickles! You're welcome!" the boy laughed, petting the dog's back…

Mustang suddenly slammed his fist into the glass window, causing it to shake and Hughes to stare at him speechlessly. The Colonel looked up with a listless expression at his student outside who was playing with Riza's dog. He was laughing, smiling, and chasing the small dog playfully around the dirt field.

"He's so innocent out there only twelve-years-old," Mustang spoke without warning. He leaned his head against his arm which was leaning against the window. "He's getting good, no really good. He's already taken three missions so far. Took down at least ten people."

"I'm not too surprised," Hughes commented. "You've really been beating those lessons into him." He paused. "He's a good kid."

"Yeah." Mustang leaned back and put his hands in his jacket pockets. "What do you think he must feel like now, not having anyone his age to talk to, to call friend?"

Hughes didn't respond.

"Statistics say that in a matter of years he'll outrank Central's top assassins."

"I see."

"But it's not the worst I've heard. They say that," Mustang paused, giving a downcast look to the floor titling. "the more he understands of his place here, the more he learns that he's killing people, the chance of suicide increases. Besides that, the automail is starting to take a toll on his body. He's already beginning to vomit blood due to stress on the heart. His life will be shortened anyway because of that damn conditioning."

Hughes stared out sadly at Edward who by this time had alchemized another gun, a rifle this time, and started shooting at the targets with Black Hayate sitting patiently beside him.

"You have no idea how hard it is to train him! Teaching, nevertheless watching this little kid to wield guns, to kill on command without hesitation; it's devastating!! He wouldn't even be doing this if it wasn't for that medication. The damn conditioning's to blame for all this!!!"

"Roy…"

"I hear him at night when I have overtime in my office. He cries out in his sleep, twisting and turning on his bed, calling out to his mother and brother. But I know that in the morning, he'll just laugh it off if I confront him about it. He tries to hind this burden of remembering his past and he's afraid of losing even one of the memories."

"Boys his age are, or at least try to act tough. They try to hind their pain from the rest of the world," Hughes explained carefully.

"That's what I worry about." Mustang gingerly touched the glass with the very tips of his fingers. "And here I am, still watching from afar. I couldn't do anything for him after all."

"You just do your job and look after him. When he confronts you about his past and why he's here and doing what he is, then will be the time to show you really care," Hughes replied calmly with a smile. He took off his glasses and polished them with a handkerchief from his pocket.

Mustang sighed in a mused tone, staring out the window into space.

"Just don't do anything 'unlawful', okay? It's against company policy to show affection." Hughes gripped his friend's shoulder.

The Colonel blushed a deep crimson. "You pervert!! You're the one most likely to show affection towards others!!"

"Which reminds me! Look how much Elicia has grown! What a little lady! Isn't that most adorable face you've ever seen?"

"Get that thing away from me! Besides, that's what you said about the last hundred!" Mustang sped off with Hughes, who was lovingly waving another photo of his daughter, at his heels…

Edward sat up straight in his arm chair with his fists resting on lap smoothing out the wrinkles on his pants. Mustang his handler was at his desk wearily sorting through paper after blank paper. It took at least twenty minutes, sometimes more, every morning to wait for the Colonel to go through and finish attending to last minute proposals and documents waiting for his signature since he procrastinated to the point of no return.

One day the whole desk was so covered in books and papers that Edward and Lt. Colonel Hughes had to pitch in to hold up the stacks so they wouldn't collapse on either them or the Colonel as he tried desperately to complete them. It took the entire day to sort out everything out leaving Mustang with a scolding and Edward and Hughes with sore backs.

"Are you almost done yet?" the thirteen-year-old asked dully in monotone, drumming his prosthetic gloved fingers on the arm of the chair. He sighed loudly, trying to sound bored.

"In a minute Fullmetal, I'm almost done!" Mustang bellowed.

Edward narrowed his eyes at the Colonel and clenched his fist at the mention of his second name. The cruel irony always found a way to piss him off. "That's what you said ten minutes ago," he said.

"You could learn to be a little more patient," growled Mustang who was getting pretty annoyed by the constant complaints.

"Yeah, I probably could," the teen answered sarcastically and yawned. It was only seven o' clock in the morning of another seemingly beautiful autumn day in August. Edward stared out the small curtained window at the sun as it slowly receded from the clouds.

When Edward was younger the view of the outside world was forbidden. There had used to be black curtains nailed on every window showing the outdoors, although they had been recently taken down so long as Edward wouldn't go near them with his Military uniform.

Tracing a small circle on the arm of the chair with his right pointer finger he reminisced the day he stepped outside by himself for the first time, after being in the darkness of the hospital walls for so long when he had gained full control of the prosthetics…

As Mustang swung open the double doors leading outside, the young eleven-year-old felt the tug of anxiety on his small frame. His automail, hidden under flesh-colored coverings to avoid civilian suspicions, creaked as if understood his fear of what might lie ahead. A blinding light came pouring in into the hallway, namely the sun, something Edward hadn't seen for almost half a year. He had to shield his eyes from the brightness of the sun, Mustang behind him securely gripping his shoulders to balance his footing.

Oddly, at the moment, Edward felt a strange yet soothing warmth fill inside of him. A grin beginning to spread on his face, he ran out the doors and down the stone steps as fast as he possibly could. Stopping abruptly on the sidewalk he gawked at the surrounding buildings and the people and cars passing by. He spun around playfully, trying to soak it all in, his now shoulder-length hair hitting him in the face. Turning back towards the hospital, he flashed a toothy grin at Mustang who exchanged it with a small smile.

Looking up into the sun even though it hurt his eyes, Edward knew he wanted to get to know this warmth once again after spending so long in darkness. Stretching his arms toward the light overhead as high as he could while standing on tip-toe, the boy reached out to the sun, wanting nothing more than to obtain the secrets of happiness from those heavens above…

Thinking back on his later actions, Edward frankly felt a bit embarrassed. Had he really been that childish and gullible only two years ago? Now that he was older, he knew full well of his place at the Society; he was only their pawn, a tool to be taken out and used at their command without his consent. He also discovered "unintentionally" of his repressed memory long ago during his automail rehab when he listened in on a conversation between Mustang and Hughes. That night was the first time he cried himself to sleep.

It had finally made perfect sense after all those nights frequently dreaming of seeing himself as a young child playing with others his age, usually a blonde-haired boy and girl. It always took place in a country setting near in a small house on a hill, maybe his own. There was also a recurring sweet faced brown-haired woman, perhaps his mother? Edward had never told anyone his flashback dreams, not even Mustang, afraid of risking even the potential of having it all taken away again from under his nose.

Crossing his legs nonchalantly and leaning his cheek against the back of his left hand, Edward filled in his traced circle with transmutation runes and tapped it lightly. A few blue sparks arose from the chair which shaped a small section of the fabric into a small solid violet colored dove.

He vaguely remembered transmuting these alchemical trinkets such as small birds like this one when he was little. He would always run off after he finished one and show it off proudly to the brown-haired woman. And she would always smile delightfully and tell him how special he was to create such wonderful things which would always put a cocky grin on his face. As a matter of fact, sometimes the other blonde-haired boy joined him in his practices of alchemy.

Mustang looked up from his papers, alerted by the light of the alchemy. "Hey! Put my chair back the way it was!!" he yelled pointing an accusing finger at his student.

"Humph." Edward clapped his hands and with his right hand tapped the dove reverting it back into the chair. "Hurry up, will ya?"

10 minutes later…

"Aha! Finally done!" Mustang yelled, triumphantly slamming his open palms on the now organized desktop.

"It's about time, you slacker," Edward scoffed rudely.

"You know, I've been working my ass off all night just so you could go unaccompanied for the field check for the shooting tomorrow!! YOU BETTER THANK ME!!" Mustang yelled out harshly.

Edward looked speechless for the first time in his short life, his eyes growing wide. "I'm going by myself for the first time? It's about time I got the privilege," he said.

"Technically it's just a stake out for tomorrow's mission, but yeah pretty much." Mustang said.

"All right! Now I can get rid of you and those annoying mentors from following me around like stalkers everywhere I go!" Edward smiled as he cradled his arms behind his head.

"Don't get too cocky Ed; this is just a field check." The Colonel glanced up at his pupil and smirked slyly. "You will be able to do this, right? This is the first time you'll be completely on your own. No one will come to save if you get in trouble."

"Heh, you think that's really gonna scare me?" the boy laughed, unfazed by his superior's taunts. He confidently crossed his arms and his own infamous smirk crossed his lips. "Hell yeah, I can take care of myself!"

Mustang for a slight moment looked surprised but quickly went back to his normal posture and faced the many papers on his desk. "Then let's get started with the briefing, shall we?" He noisily tapped a stack on the desk and turned his gaze toward the small print. "This conditioning is frightening."

…

Brushing off the white specks of dust from his shirt, Edward stared back at his reflection from the full length mirror in his bedroom. He had changed his clothes and was wearing a long-sleeved black shirt, outlined thinly in white, with tight black pants and boots. He adjusted his white gloves and turned around in the attempt to get a look at his backside.

This was one of the outfits he wore when he was "outside", others being various shirts and pants, but for some unknown reason this was his favorite. Edward furiously fumbled with the collar, forcing it to stick up and fixed his ponytail, pulling back some loose hairs.

His hair had grown quite long those past few years. Touching the mirror lightly with the very tips of his fingers, the boy wondered softly to himself, "Would this look like the Edward Elric I saw in my dreams at my age?" He backed away from reflection the moved his arms to his sides. "No, most likely not."

A sudden soft knocking was then heard at the door, causing Edward to jump. Regaining his serious façade he called out toward the door over his shoulder. "Come in!"

Mustang opened the door and stepped inside the room carrying his black coat and a traveling truck in his hand.

The room was small yet comfortable with a double bed against the left wall and a full-sized armoire with a mirror in the middle. There was also a wooden desk and chair against the right wall where Edward studied or read in his spare time. There were no windows at all. Surprisingly, it was very tidy and well kept which would be extremely unusual for a normal teenager. Then again Ed wasn't a normal teen.

"You changed already?" Mustang asked leaning down to look his student up and down with a critical eye as Edward turned to face him. "Don't tell me that you're wearing that again. Too much black is bad for your image," he teased.

"Shove it," Edward scowled harshly and shot the Colonel an evil glare before turning back to the mirror.

"Just make sure your gloves are secure."

"Yeah, yeah." Edward tugged at his right glove. "I'm not allowed to show off my automail to anyone except my targets. I get it already! You say that before every mission; you're like a broken record."

"Learn some respect for your superiors, why don't you?!" Mustang fumed.

"Sure, I'll keep that in the back of my mind," Edward said sarcastistically, rolling his eyes.

Now it was Mustang's turn to glare angrily at his student, clenching his teeth and trying hard not to raise his fist. After calming down a bit, he took ahold of the trunk in his hand and thrust it into Edward's open arms, knocking the boy offguard.

The thirteen-year-old muttered curses as he set the trunk on the grey-colored carpet and opened it with a look of an unwanted surprise. He turned his head to stare coldly at his handler. "The MP40?" Edward asked with a disapproving frown. He shut the trunk with a slam. "How dangerous is going out in public?" he said in an unfriendly tone and a scowl.

"Just in case in an emergancy," Mustang explained in a sullen expression. Straightning

out the coat in his arms, he put it on without a word.

Edward switched his glance back to the case in front of him, shutting it and picking it up with his right hand. "It's not like the children in Central kill people for a living…"

"What did you say?"

"Nothing, nothing at all." Edward said in defense, a little too quickly for Mustang's liking. He lifted the trunk up and down several times. "Hiding it in a trunk this time around? Heh, how cliché."

The Colonel folded his arms and narrowed his eyes. "Take it or leave it squirt."

"DON'T SAY SQUIRT!!!"

"Geez…"

…

Mustang parked the car a little past Dale Street and turned toward the backseat where Edward sat with the trunk on his lap. "Meet me right here in this exact spot in exactly three hours time," the Colonel instructed sternly. "I'll be circling around the city until then."

"The target, a political scumbag called Alan Cherkin who has been secretly embezzling money from the government, will be checking into the Franklin Hotel room 217 second floor. He always goes there before parliamentary sittings to go over documents with his aide, Alexander John. We will reserve the rest of the floor under an assumed name so no one will come up during the mission. A few other men will be in the lobby to make sure that he'll be there and I'll be close to the stairs for your escape. Tomorrow you will go unseen up to the second floor, eliminate anyone in the area of the room, and go back down the way you came. I'll come up with the clean up crew when you're done. Today you will be observing the back entrance for your escape."

"Yeah, yeah," Edward responded in a bored tone. The boy opened the car's side door and stepped out, the trunk's handle still held securely in his hand.

"Here." Mustang took out his wallet and handed the boy two one thousand sen bills. "There's some money for lunch, or a souvenir or something. Have fun."

Edward looked over at the bills before stuffing them in his pants pocket. He glanced up at his handler who had facing back to the road behind, getting ready to turn the car around. It was an uncommon occasion to be sight seeing in Central, but the Colonel being kind was an even greater rarity.

The boy nodded solemnly and saluted, which caught Mustang's eye just before the car sped away leaving Edward on the sidewalk with the concealed machine gun in his small hand. "Yes, sir."

…

It was the perfect day for a stroll in Central as the weather was indeed beautiful and warm and brightly colored leaves lit up the famous city quite nicely. The people were coming and going as usual and the stores quietly hummed with activity. Young children were running down the sidewalks in playful games of tag and cars drove by every once in a while. It was certainly a very nice normal place to grow up.

Edward had greatly missed this city, especially the warm sunny atmosphere. He was never allowed outdoors save for missions and training. That was the way the Society kept such good control on him: by chaining him up like a dog and keeping watch over him at all times.

From Phoenix Road, where the young teen now walked past, the Franklin Hotel was little over seven blocks away. Edward couldn't tell whether Mustang had parked so far away to be less conspicuous, to let him have some more time to himself, or to just be mean. Whatever the reason the boy didn't really care. It was nice to have that choking leash removed every once in a while.

He pattered along aimlessly and exchanged the few nods and "good afternoons" of the passersby. There were always some faces that seemed almost familiar, perhaps wiped from his memory earlier on. Déjà vu was as normal for Edward as talking on the telephone.

Edward hated those painful watery conditioning injections, not that he remembered taking them of course but he could imaged they hurt. He always saw the shots in Dr. Marcoh's bag, kept there just in case. Ed could imagine he would put up a struggle every time his memory needed to be cleared but the youth would never truly know. He couldn't even remember having one of the shots, nevertheless hearing that his memory needed to be wiped, yet he knew just the same. Every once in a while he would wake up in the morning feeling dizzy and his stomach in knots. And he would remember nothing of the pervious days whatsoever. Those remembrances of his had quietly been deleted behind his back, all in the name of protecting him from someone or something he shouldn't have seen. He silently lived in fear of what may be forgotten next.

Even now as he slowly walked along the sidewalk, he knew in his heart these visions of the city could be erased the next day. As the he soon came to this realization he stopped and shook his head, forcing his young mind to forget the conditioning at least for the moment. Because possibly one day very soon he would indeed forget everything of life, becoming a true emotionless tool and succumbing back into darkness. Little did he know his entire perspective would shortly be thrown aside as unimportant.

…

After a while of wondering around in the streets, Edward suddenly decided to take a rest stop at a small familiar outdoor café. He pulled up a seat at the shop counter, placing his trunk on the ground beside him.

The café looked almost forgotten as so many people passed by without so much as a glance. Business was slow enough that several employees were sitting at tables and talking noisily, possibly drawing away any potential customers they hoped to have.

A young man about seventeen or eighteen with short shaggy dark hair and wearing an apron and green t-shirt came to the front of the counter and wiped it with a dish rag. He grinned happily as he spotted Edward. "Well if it isn't Edo! How've ya been? I haven't seen ya in ages!" he said leaning over the counter top.

"Hey Brendan, it's been a while. I've just been really busy," Edward replied covering his mouth to muffle a yawn. "You still working here I see?

"Yep, it's all the old man left me," Brendan said. "You're always gone for these long stretches of time and come back at the most random moments." He gave the teen a glum stare. "Too busy to stop by every once in a while to talk to your only friend in Central, huh?" Brendan's expression suddenly lit up and a perverted smile crossed his face. "Oh I get it, you've been busy!" he snickered nudging Edward in the arm with his elbow. "You dog, you!"

"Shut up, will you? It's not like that, okay?!" Edward yelled back, blushing softly.

"Heh heh, just kidding!" Brendan said laughing it off. "But seriously man, these city chicks 'round here totally dig your type: cold, moody, mysterious. I'd use it to my advantage if you know what I mean." The young man paused to wave at a couple of teenaged girls passing by.

"Whatever…" Edward turned his expressionless gaze toward the trunk at his side. He clearly knew that he couldn't associate with anyone even if he wanted to. "Hey! Snap out it, you love obsessed freak! I'm a paying customer!" he said banging a fist on the counter.

"'Love obsessed'? You jerk! Besides, ya didn't even order anything yet!"

"I'll take a decaf coffee with extra sugar. And a cinnamon bun."

"You're no fun at all, ya know that?"

"That I can live with."

…

The caffeinated drink and bun sat heavily in Edward's stomach. When he finished the food he wiped his gloved hands on his pants, stood up, and paid for his meal tipping Brendan generously. With the trunk in hand he turned to leave.

The young shop tender waved after him as he left, causing Ed to look back over his shoulder. "Hey! Come back soon!"

Edward nervously laughed and returned a slight wave as he shuffled down the street, knowing full well he might never come by there again.

…

Pausing again to stop at a street sign in the middle of a fork in the road, Ed took out a creased and faded map from his pants pocket. He studied it over as he glanced back at the sign. Because it had been well over a month since the teen had set foot in Central, his sense of direction wasn't at its best.

"Damn it, the stupid map's updated!!" he growled accusingly at the paper. "That or I'm really lost."

Without warning a scream was heard from a nearby alleyway, whose owner Edward could identify as a young female. Not knowing how or why, he started running toward the direction of sound. His "job" required fast action responses in any situation may it friend or foe, a trait that was acquired easily through training and conditioning treatments.

But this wasn't just because his duty to protect the innocent. For a slightest moment he could almost recall that voice. Edward wasn't just risking his own hide to save another life. He was also doing it for his own selfish reasons.

Stopping abruptly in front of the shallow alley, the teen narrowed his eyes to a cold glare at the scene laid out before him. A young girl no older then himself with long blonde hair tied back in a ponytail had been pushed to the ground. She was sobbing and wiping at her eyes fiercely with tight fists. A small group of teenaged drop-out thugs surrounded her, laughing from the back of their throats. From the looks on their smug faces, they were ready for a beating.

Aiming carefully at the target, Ed threw his trunk directly hitting one of the cronies on the back, sending him to the ground face down. The others looking bewildered in surprise as did the girl who had stopped crying to gaze up at her savior. "Hey, you clowns should be in school, not ganging up on little kids!" he proclaimed furiously, tucking his hands in his pants pockets.

The middle goon stepped forward and snickered, nastily cracking his knuckles. He seemed the toughest and oldest of the group, towering at least fifty centimeters over Edward. "So what are you gonna do about it, runt?" he snorted as the other members laughed at the joke.

The comment shot a sharp pang up Edward's nerve. In a single motion he raised his left leg and sharply booted the man in the face which sent him flying backwards, taking another member with him. All the while Ed's hands remained pocketed. The gang again looked flabbergasted for but a moment before urging onto the attack. "C'mon you third-rate, no fourth-rate fools! Are you not tough enough to go up a kid?" Edward laughed stomping a boot on the knocked out leader.

A muscular thug lunged his right fist at Ed aiming for the head, though the teen still looked on with an unwavering confidence. He sighed nonchalantly before grabbing the man's right arm, which was in mid-swing, with his left hand then sharply punched him squarely in the jaw with his right arm. He then swiftly kicked him in the leg, tripping him which brought him in rough contact with the side of the building, knocking him out.

The last member aimed his right arm at Edward's stomach. Ed in turn stepped backwards out of range of the attack then sprang forward and roughly elbowed him with his right arm, sending him crashing into the brick wall and falling to the ground.

Ed brushed his dusty hands and looked at the scattered bodies. Kicking the third thug in the leg, it was made apparent he was barely conscious by his wheezing breaths. "Still awake, huh? I should really stop skipping practice." At that point he remembered the young girl and knelt down on one knee in front of her small frame. "Are you alright, Miss?" he asked politely as if beating the shit out of goons was a normal occurrence.

She was still staring disbelievingly at the boy who had just saved her live with her mouth open a bit. "Th-Thank you so much!" she said wiping the dried tears that stained her sky blue eyes. A large smile crept on her lips revealing a cute sunny face. "You were so amazing back there! How can I ever repay you?"

"It's no big deal really," Edward smirked. "Guys like these talk tough but come down pretty easily when you hit the right points. Believe me, I know." He looked back at the slowly awaking gang members. "We'd better get out of here before they get up and remember a kid kicked their asses." He stood up and extended a hand toward the girl. "Can you stand?"

"Y-Yeah, I think so."

"Good." The girl gripped his hand and Ed pulled her to her feet. "Okay, let's go." He then started running at fast pace out of the alley and into the crowded streets with the girl holding on, stopping only briefly to pick up his trunk. After a while of dodging passersby and cars Edward stopped in another long deserted alleyway and flattened himself against the wall, peering out into the streets. "They're not following us so we should be safe here." He turned back to the girl who still held his hand tight. "So what's your business with those thugs, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Well, I came to Central to track someone down and I accidentally bumped into those guys," the girl shrugged laughing the situation off.

"Who's the person you're trying to find?" Ed asked curiously. "I'm no expert but I can help you look for him."

"He's a very good close friend of mine. I've known him since childhood and haven't seen him in years," she replied with a downcast look.

"Is that so?" Edward sighed. "So Miss, I didn't catch your name back there."

"Oh yes, how rude of me!" the girl giggled and moved a stray hair out of her face. She formally bowed and smiled warmly. "My name is Winry Rockbell…"

Out of nowhere and without warning Edward's chest suddenly started to painfully tighten up. His legs felt weak and his automail grew surprisingly heavy and limp. "Oh shit, not again," he muttered darkly. It was another memory lapse. Leaning his right forearm against the side of the building, he hunched over forwards and tried to keep his bloody coughing under control.

"…and I'm searching for my good friend, Edward Elric."

At that, Edward's knees gave way and his golden eyes grew misty and heavy as he lost consciousness. The last thing he remembered before everything went black was the feeling of hitting the pavement and Winry shrieking, rushing to his side.

…

"Hey, you guys! What are you doing? I thought you said you were making my birthday present!"

"We are! It's almost done. It's gonna turn out great!"

"C'mon, Al! A big circle on my floor isn't a present!"

"The circle's not the present, stupid! This is what we're making it with."

"You like dolls, right Winry?"

Edward awoke, eyes rapidly opening. How long had he been down? Sitting up he looked around an unfamiliar alley with several trash cans and large boxes here and there. He had been lying on the cold ground for awhile, as his back felt gritty with small bits of gravel. Glancing over his shoulder he saw the telltale Franklin Hotel sign down the street.

He gripped his stomach tenderly. The wrenching pain had died down to a mere throb. He took off his glove and flexed the metal joints in the prosthetic fingers. His automail too had reverted back to normal. This was how it always played out when acquired knowledge of his past. Ed didn't know whether to be relieved from the pain or disappointed.

A soft sound of footsteps was suddenly heard coming closer to him, belonging to the girl Winry. "Oh good, you're awake!" she exclaimed happily. "I was getting worried!" Edward turned his gaze to get a clearer look at her. She was wearing a small blue t-shirt with a red jumper on top. On her feet was a pair of plain looking sandals, dusty and worn out.

Winry knelt down in front of Edward and put a hand to his forehead which made him turn a deep shade of red. "You don't feel hot, but you still look kinda pale," she said with a frown. "Do you feel sick?"

"N-No, I'm fine! This is nothing, I swear!!" Edward replied defensively, rambling a bit and waving his hand.

"Alright, if you say so I believe you," Winry sighed. Edward leaned his back against the stone building beside him and his female companion did the same, sitting next to him. "Y'know you look amazingly like my friend, the one I'm searching for I mean."

"Really, I do?" Ed replied feigning surprise.

"Yeah, you could almost be a twin! He had the same hair and eyes and he'd be about your age, but not your height!" she giggled. "Maybe you've heard of him? He was a great alchemist-"

"No," Ed interrupted indefinitely. "I've never heard of either of you until today. I hope your 'Edward' is found soon." When he saw the upset expression on Winry's face he felt a bit taken aback with guilt. "Um, so you said he was an alchemist right? Central is pretty knowledgeable on the registered state alchemists. What was he like?"

The girl leaned over and hugged her legs close to her chest. "We all grew up together in Resembool and our houses weren't too far apart so I got to know him pretty well. He was always trying to improve himself with his alchemy, he and his brother both. Those two were almost inseparable but they had their quarrels." Winry pouted irritably. "He was rude, too focused on goals, and bad mouthed," she continued with a sour look of disapproval.

"R-Really?" Edward laughed nervously.

Winry nodded in agreement. "He was also incredibly short! You should have seen him! And he always yelled out whenever anyone even mentioned it!" she laughed heartily.

"H-He sounds easily agitated, huh?"

"I'll say!" Winry hugged her legs to her chest and smiled sadly. "But he also really sweet and caring towards, especially Al." She squeezed her fragile legs tighter. "Ed was the kind of person that made you feel safe no matter what happened. He was such a precious friend." Burying her face in her crossed arms, she hid her sobs from her companion. "And he and his brother just got up and left one day and never came back. I don't even know if they're still alive, those jerks. I didn't even get to tell him how I really feel."

Edward gingerly rubbed her shoulder in the attempt of comfort. He felt so ashamed. The girl wiped at her cheeks and returned Ed's gesture with a reassuring grin. "Don't worry about me, I won't allow for sadness! I'll find those two no matter what!" She clenched a fist in valor. "And when I do, I'll give them a beating they'll never forget for making me worry!" Winry laughed, causing even Edward to chuckle alongside her.

Her blue eyes suddenly fell upon the boy's ungloved right hand. "Is that steel?" she asked curiously.

Ed's heart skipped a beat as he quickly moved his right arm behind his back while trying to think up a good excuse. "N-No, it's-"

"Please, could I take a look? I'm good with machines. I'll be careful, promise!!"

Edward sighed and reluctantly peeled back his shirt and pant sleeves. What was the harm in showing off a little? Besides, who was she going to tell anyway?

The girl's eyes practically lit up as Winry almost pounced on the mechanical arm. "This is incredible, just extraordinary! The craftsmanship is beautiful, maybe the best I've ever seen!" she chattered happily examining the automail. "First class mechas that double as prostheses, how universal!" Winry grabbed the metal arm and lovingly nuzzled it against her check, making Ed uneasy. He knew he couldn't feel it but still…

"Um, Winry?"

"Yeah?"

"Aren't you… sickened by me?"

"What are you talking about?"

Edward searched hesitantly for the right words. "Isn't it unnatural for someone to have metal limbs? You don't even know my name. I'm not the exactly the safest person to be around."

Winry stared at him for a while, stopping the automail inspection. Finally she gave him one of the kindest and honest smiles Edward had ever seen. "It doesn't matter who or what you are on the outside. On the inside you're my friend, right?" She reached out to him, holding Ed in a warm embrace which left the child assassin lost for words.

Edward hugged her back, burying his face in her neck. "Yeah, I'm your friend."

…

Mustang stood outside leaning on the car door, arms folded and wearing a pair of sunglasses that made him appear amazingly shifty on such a humid day. Since he wasn't allowed to adorn his Military uniform to the public eye, the once-Colonel sported his favorite dark blue jacket and pants with a long unbuttoned black pea coat.

He missed the undetected sense of authority he when he wore it amongst civilians, like he was better than everyone else even though he knew better then to fantasize. Now it felt as if he had been stripped of his station and put in a lowly office position, those bastards.

Though attending to the training and overall welfare of the Society's "little test subject" was bad enough, not that Ed was hard to instruct, quite easy in fact. The job took a toll on perception after having to witness the bloodshed and carnage, Mustang himself also having his share of the action. More then one occasion did he need to join his student in the slaughter.

The Colonel clicked open his silver state alchemist's pocket watch to check the time. Edward was late. Strike that, very late, a full half hour in fact. "I gave him plenty of time. What the hell is he doing?"

Reaching into the flaps of the coat he revealed a small case of cigarettes taking the longest one in the pack. Mustang hadn't smoked much since Riza passed away. She had always commented that he looked like such a hot-head with that idiotic stick in his mouth. The Flame Alchemist was hot-headed. Oh the irony. At least she hadn't pointed out he was turning into Havoc. That was insult.

Before he even had time to light it, Mustang heard the familiar panting of his student running up the sidewalk to the car, the trunk whipping around his left leg. Stopping abruptly in front of the Colonel, head slightly hung and still panting from the run, Edward saluted half-heartedly. "You're late," Mustang scolded taking the cigarette out of his mouth. "I you told exactly three hours. Edward, this isn't like you."

"S-Sorry," Ed responded wearily. He had sprinted so fast he needed a second to catch his breath.

Mustang took off his sunglasses in a smooth motion. "You didn't happen to meet with anybody near the hotel, did you?" he questioned in suspicion.

Edward continued to face downcast at the ground. "Winry…" An image of the blonde girl flashed in his mind. He couldn't let anyone know, not even his teacher. "No," he answered solemnly.

The Colonel gave his pupil one of his long serious stares before lifting a hand and placing it on Edward's head. "If you see anyone while you're at work kill them," he instructed coldly.

Edward, though he clenched his fists until it hurt, silently nodded and bowed his head. "Yes, sir."

…

Though rare, private shootings of two or three people was what Edward preferred rather than the mini massacres with death tolls in the twenty's. If he did a good job he may have more in the future, not that he particularly enjoyed either occasion.

His targets and their accessories were the stereotypically defined "bad guys" by the Society, he himself as a "good guy" smiting a righteous judgment. That's what they had told him at least. Wasn't he such a big help, cleaning up the crime-ridden streets of Central? What a load of bull.

The Society suspected Edward knew what was really going on as much as he did, but decided to keep quiet on the subject just in case. They weren't as oblivious as most of their employees would think which consisted of mostly ex-Military soldiers or weapons specialists, waiting for their time in the lime light and their next paycheck. Ed couldn't blame them. High risk jobs in secret organizations such as these were almost worth it for the hefty cash bonuses. Almost.

Presently gripping his preferred Walther PPK pistol securely in his left hand, Edward descended alone down the deserted Franklin Hotel hallway, second floor corridor. He had changed into another of his "work" clothes: a white long-sleeved shirt with a brown vest and pants accompanied by a long dark coat. The style of dress was popular over seas, yet it had its practical uses. The Colonel had unofficially nicknamed the outfit his "mature look", much to Ed's embarrassment.

It was quiet going on his way to 215, the only real occupied room. The only sound he heard was of his own footsteps and the noise of conversation at the end of the hall. It was going to get a lot quieter in a matter of minutes.

Planting himself in front of the door, Edward cocked the pistol hammer and touched the small microphone in his right ear. Static crackled from the other end. Mustang was on the end of the transmission.

"Okay Fullmetal, as you know I'm near the stairwell. Hughes has affirmed our target and his subordinate checking into the room from the lobby. They should be the only ones up there. Can you hear them?"

Edward pressed his ear against the door. "Yeah, they're saying something about a government scandal or something," he answered in a whispered tone into the attached microphone.

"Good. Try going for a clean shot this time. Only use your armblade if necessary."

"Understood." Static resumed the transmission and the briefing was complete. Taking a deep breath, Edward knocked on the door. "Room service," he called out, disguising his true intentions.

The sound of shuffling papers and feet was heard coming from the other side and a brunette gentleman answered the door. Swiftly and without explanation, Edward brought up his left arm accurately shooting the man in the middle of the forehead. A spurt of blood launching from the bullet hole, the man fell over backwards twitching violently in jerky spasms. It was only the accessory, John.

Ed shut the door behind him and walked silently into the room, stepping over the newly formed red pool that was staining the tan carpet. Raising his gun out, both arms out stretched, he checked the surrounding area. It was a nice, expensive set up: a large fancy living room on one side facing the door and two separate bedrooms with a closet and bathroom on the other.

A creak of an opening wooden door from the bedroom revealed a tall skinny man with blonde hair. Almost by instinct, Edward turned on heel toward the indication of the sound and unleashed a spray of bullet shots at the man. Bloody bursts erupted on the man's white buttoned shirt and with a groan he fell against the wall. Edward padded closer to the bullet-ridden embezzler, kneeling down to admire his work. Cherkin was still alive. "P-Please help me!" he gasped toward the youth, grunting through blood bubbles. "I-I'll change my ways, I swear!"

Any traces of mercy had dissolved from Edward's golden eyes, matching his cold expressionless face. He rammed the barrel of the pistol roughly against Cherkin's swollen head. "The scum of society should die like scum." With the pull of the trigger thick gushes of darkened crimson blood exploded onto the surrounding walls, a few splattering onto the front of Edward's coat and cheek. The target had finally been terminated.

Straightening up and regaining his posture, Ed again reached for the headphone. "Mission accomplished," he said in to the microphone.

The Colonel responded on the other line. "Good job. I'll meet up…wait, what did you say?" The signal paused and an unknown mutter was heard, as if Mustang had been interrupted with urgent complication. "Are you out of your fucking mind?!" Edward fidgeted at the heightening anger in his handler's voice. "How the how the hell could you have let someone else up there?!..." In a single shock of static, the transmission abruptly ended, provoking unanswered questions to the young teen. Someone uninvited was on this floor with him? He fled from the blood drenched room, thrusting open the entrance door and scrambling out into the hallway.

It turned out that someone really was there. Someone who wasn't supposed to be there, someone he shouldn't have even met. Edward knew who it was the instant he hastily stopped in his tracks and saw her small skinny frame, his eyes widening with tremors of sudden fear. She stood but two meters away. He managed to softly call out her name, almost a whisper. "…Winry?"

The girl giggled, her eyes sparkling. "I've finally found you! I'm so glad I got to see you again!" she smiled warmly.

Edward hastily moved his pistol out of sight behind his back, concentrating on getting out of the situation. "What are doing here?" he said shaking slightly.

Winry squeezed the small bundle she was carrying in her arms. "Since you left so quickly, I asked several people around the area we were in and they said they saw you around the hotel. I've been searching for a few hours and finally came up to the second floor. And here you are!"

"So that's how she got by the clean up crew," Ed thought. His eyes fell upon the small bundle. His eyes bulged at its presence. It was a painfully familiar baby doll. He motioned toward it. "What's that?"

The girl held it out for Edward to see. It was seemed to be handcrafted with its tangled red hair and cloth body. "This was a present that Edward and Alphonse made for me on my sixth birthday. It was their first alchemy transmutation and one of my fondest memories, even though I was frightened at first by the alchemy." She hugged the doll close to her chest. "I know it's kind of silly for a teenager to be carrying around a children's doll, but I can't just go and forget about the past."

Edward suddenly cringed and stiffened, his handler's words ringing loudly in his mind. "If you see anyone while you're at work, kill them." Tightening his grip on the pistol, he bowed his head, blonde bangs hiding his face. "You know, Winry…" he started. "There was a reason why I never told you my name."

Winry tilted her head, confused at where this conversation was going.

"My name is, Edward Elric," he said plainly.

The girl's eyes grew wide. "Ed…ward?" she said, almost in shock.

Slowly bringing out the concealed firearm, he pointed the barrel at the motionless girl's heart, tears stinging his eyes and blurring his vision.

"Ed, wh-what are you doing?" Winry stammered, shaking. "This isn't true, is it?"

Edward bit his lip and tried desperately to hide the approaching tears. "Winry," he said finally. "Thank you. I'm so sorry."

…

The Colonel couldn't have been more pissed off if he tried. The end of yesterday's raid had gone horribly, bringing up questions of the reliability of the staff members. Innocent bystanders were under no circumstance to know of the missions but somehow a young girl had managed to get by the security system.

Mustang remembered to incident all too well. When had come to check on Fullmetal, he had fond him on his knees, face in his hands crying over the body of the young girl. She had been shot in the heart, blood splattering over the corpse and an old doll she had been holding at the time. Her haunting baby blue eyes were locked in a blank stare and her mouth was open slightly. Mustang had never seen his student more in pain than at that moment. This wasn't supposed to happen.

He stared down at Edward's sleeping body which was heavily sedated from the intravenous therapy. His automail were showing signs of damage and needed to be prepped for correction surgery as soon as possible.

Dr. Marcoh dressed in a white doctor's coat reached for his stethoscope in his black bag, placing the chestpiece against Edward's heart. "A few of the arm nerves were affected so they need to be replaced," he explained to Mustang. "It's a simple proceed and won't require too much down time." The doctor turned toward his patient's handler. "I heard that there was also a girl involved in the incident."

The Colonel gave the doctor a sideways look and said, "Yeah, there was." He turned away from the bed, staring at the white walls. "There was talk in the board about using her as a cyborg."

"Too bad the bullet wound was fatal, huh?"

"Yeah."

Marcoh took the stethoscope and put it back in his bag. "Heart rate and vitals are stable. Surgery may comence in the morning." He was about to leave the room when he stopped, opening his bag again. "Oh, I almost forgot." The old doctor took out a liquid filled syringe and decaped the rounded protective covering on the needle.

"Wait," Mustang said grabbing Marcoh's arm before he injected the young boy. "Don't use the conditioning just yet. Let him keep his memories a little longer."

The doctor gave him an odd glance, but put the covering back on and shrugged. "Whatever you say, Flame Alchemist."

Thank you sooo much for your patience!! You're too kind!! (bows) This is my longest chapter yet so of course it took the most time. The new video trailer is up on youtube, so please watch it and rate! The link for it is in my profile. You can also see Ed's gun collection (wink).

One of the hardest parts of this chapter was Hughes's monologue after Mustang tells him about how Edo is keeping his pain a secret. Just deciding what for him to say took at least two days. In the end, I used a similar monologue by him from volume 4 of the manga when he was talking with Winry. Winry…(cries) I can't believe I did that…(gets beaten to death by fans, body is set on fire and thrown into Tokyo Bay) I really do like Winry, she's pretty cool. A reason why it took so long to write was because of the ending…waaaaaahh…Maybe this would be a good time to say that at least one person will die from here on out? Heh heh…Her death serves as one of the final straws of keeping Edward's memories and questions of his past a secret from Mustang. This leads to a confrontation conflicting with some very bad timing in chapter 4: A Broken Heart in My Hands, The Truth Revealed. Halfway through this chapter, I noticed that Giuseppe of GSG looked amazingly like Mustang…The more I write this the more I think about it and vision Mustang as him. (so I guess Edward is Henrietta? XD) Gunslinger Alchemist is really a tribute to some of my favorite animes. There are slight references to not only Fullmetal and Gunslinger but also Noir, Death Note, and Elfen Lied if you look for them. If your wondering about the trunk, it's the same one Ed uses in FMA.

Brendan is an odd one shot character. XD I actually borrowed his name from one of my good friends (although he nothing like my version). He will make an appearance later on in chapter 4 also, if you may call it that…