THREE WISE MONKEYS

Hey! pale-blue11 here!

So thank you to the three people who reviewed last chapter—justisalinn, guest, and TheHaloFreak. It's really nice to get reviews, even just a few :) I'm guessing that the changed summary is why there wasn't much feedback?

Anyway, after this chapter it gets more interesting (I hope). This is chapter 15 of 19, so there's not far to go!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or its characters.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN • The Last Monday—part 1

If Alphonse had a face, it would have been grimacing. As it was, the light in the cavities of his eyes lacked much of its usual lustre. Had Ed been able to look at him, he may have noticed the guilt weighing down Al's armour and twisting the remnant of his soul. But Ed's inability to communicate was high on the list of 'Why Alphonse felt like the worst brother ever'. If it hadn't been for that, Al wouldn't have been forced into doing something he hated.

Lying to his brother.

Said brother was playing a game of one-man hide-and-seek beneath the baby blue blanket. The edges had come untucked from under the mattress, revealing what Al supposed might be a toe. He couldn't tell for sure if it was the right or the left foot—every inch of skin up to Ed's neck was covered in clothing—but it wouldn't make a difference either way, so why worry? The issue was really of the heat: Alphonse had no way to determine if the temperature was hot or cold. Ed could have been burning up and he wouldn't know.

And that was what added urgency to the situation. Alphonse couldn't take proper care of a mute Ed—especially when that mute Ed was again refusing to use the notebook! Everyone knew he was strong-willed, but there were times where that became too much of a hassle.

"Brother?" Al asked with his voice barely louder than a whisper. The last time he'd startled Ed, it… hadn't been pretty. "Brother?" He got his answer in the form of a large twitch. "I'm… I'm going out for a while. I'm gonna book you an appointment with the psychologist—" a stronger twitch accompanied this revelation, "—and maybe… get some food."

Ever since Edward had been found, Al noticed more and more inconsistencies within his character. One was particularly worrisome: his reaction to food, and eating in general. He ate in hospital, Al had seen it, but as he returned back to the dormitories, that habit changed. It was nearing the fourth day, and Al had only convinced Ed to eat three times.

Ed had thrown up five times.

Their fridge was full, and Alphonse knew that, but he needed an excuse to leave. Ed's behaviour was wearing on him, and a weariness he hadn't experienced for years made his metaphorical eyes scratchy with fatigue. It was a mental exhaustion, slowing down his mind and making him wish desperately that he could still sleep.

He wanted an adult. Someone to tell him what to do, and how to act. Ed wasn't comfortable around him—and Al didn't want to call it 'fear'—so he needed a way to… to reverse whatever that bastard Colt had done.

That was why, at nine in the morning, Al headed not to the nearest market, but to a café some two kilometres away.

It had been his idea to choose such a remote location. 'Remote' in the sense that fairly few military personnel traversed that side of town—it was a respectable neighbourhood populated only by those doing well in life. Though the buildings themselves were quite similar to those closer to headquarters and even the seedier sections of Central, the baskets of flowers suspended outside every window brought a smile to even the most despicable man's face.

But it seemed that didn't apply to Colonel Roy Mustang.

"So," the man began no sooner than Al sat down, setting his untouched coffee onto the table. "How's my youngest subordinate?"

Though the words were light and, perhaps, slightly carefree, the way in which Mustang uttered them was not. Al had to wonder if the worry lines around the colonel's mouth were new, or had merely deepened due to their recent trials. Those, coupled with the weary eyes of a man expecting bad news, painted an accurate portrayal of the hopelessness Al assumed Roy felt. He had always been good at reading people.

"That's why I'm here." Alphonse straightened up to wave away an approaching waitress, disrupting the red and white table umbrella as he did so.

Roy sighed and spun a spoon around his coffee. "I figured. So, is it regular trouble or…?"

"No," Al muttered and slumped dispiritedly. "He's not eating. Or sleeping, either, I think. He won't… He won't look at me." As Al talked, the troubles he held in the hollows of his body poured out. "He won't write, won't talk, won't leave the bed! He keeps… glancing over to empty space—and there's nothing there! And just yesterday, w-we put his automail back on, and…"

Roy waited patiently, a deep frown painting darker lines on his young face. "Isn't that good?"

Al shook his head and leant back, suddenly aware of how close they were. "No, not really. It's like he's… scared of it. I hardly ever see him this scared, Colonel, and usually I can do something about it, but… I'm completely useless!"

People were beginning to watch them—the man in an officer's uniform and his armoured companion—and Al fell silent at their curiosity. It was more Ed's style to rant at them and tell their audience to mind their own bloody business.

"Alphonse," Roy brought him back to the present with a steady calmness only betrayed by shaking fingers. He was the embodiment of adult reasoning that Al lusted over, the physical apparition of the soothing presence that could assure him 'everything will be alright'. It was still hard to believe. "Where is Fullmetal now?"

"Back at the dormitories."

"In the military barracks?" Roy confirmed, then took a sip of his coffee, expression contorting as he realised, "Ack. It's cold."

"Colonel?" Al wished he had a proper face to communicate with. Maybe then it wouldn't be so hard. "Why do you need to know that?"

"I'm going to visit him," Roy said in determination. But although Alphonse had no expressions of his own, he could read others' perfectly. And what he saw was clearly reluctance. "I'll need to file my own report on this, so I may as well be involved."

What would Ed do if Al came back not with groceries, but a person? And not just any person—the one who broke him out of hell in the first place. A flash of bitterness cut off anything Al was going to say. It should have been him rushing in to save his brother! Maybe then Ed could trust him! But the rational part of him argued, as usual. Roy had never told him what he found in that room. There was almost definitely a good reason.

While Al was lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice Roy stand. Nor did he notice the younger soldier who ran up the street and snapped the colonel a sharp salute. Al only regained his attention in time to hear:

"They're all dead."

XxX

The fresh air felt so good.

It hit him as soon as he stepped outside—on his own feet in the first time in… a while. It was early morning, on a day that promised to be fairly warm, and he was alone.

Ed stretched his arms up as high as they would go and let out a contented sigh. There was a good chance the dormitories were empty, so there was no need to rush in fear that someone might send him back to the room. He couldn't go back there yet. Not yet.

He had something to do.

A special task, bestowed upon him through the most lasting and memorable method in existence. It employed the two largest, most potent, emotions as fuel to the fire that would eventually burn down the entire city.

Hatred.

And fear.

A person who holds those key ammunitions also holds the key to desperation, rage, and a strength that far surpasses that of an ordinary human's. And when the being who holds them isn't human in the first place… The effect simply amplifies.

And his target was the one who had awoken those inner chasms of his personality.

Envy.

The homunculus who had toyed with Edward's head while toying with his heart in quite a literal sense. Romance and desire had no place in torture, and so the knife that carved fissures in that once-vital organ had simultaneously chiselled Envy's name into the Grim Reaper's list. Ed would be the one to send the psychotic monster to his death—that had been his fate ever since the first blade pierced flesh. A sequence of lefts and rights, ups and down, all eventually leading to the moment in which Ed would cut off Envy's head and it wouldn't grow back.

"And?" The false homunculus glanced away from nails that were surely immaculate, watching the road as if waiting for a ride. "Are you ever gonna go? We've been standing here for ages."

'Shut up,' Ed wanted to retaliate, settling instead for a sharp glare. 'Just let me enjoy this first.'

The apparition huffed and rolled his eyes, assuring that his displeasure was annoyingly obvious. But Ed couldn't say that he didn't understand—he did. He was painfully eager to follow the twinge in his chest, a twinge surely created by the proximity of his prey. Prey… He liked that description. It brought to his mind images of Envy scurrying along bright streets, searching for non-existent shadows in which to hide.

"Let's go!" Envy whined, jumping nimbly from foot to foot. "He's gonna be hard to find if we don't leave! Come on, Fullmetal—I wanna kill!"

Ed snorted, identifying irony in the fact that it appeared to be Envy who was so keen to hunt down the homunculus. The mind truly was a funny thing.

He couldn't delay it any longer—not that that was his intention. The faux-Envy bouncing beside him was the mental manifestation of his desire to move, to chase, and he couldn't help but feel a tremor of anxiety, and perhaps even fear, at the prospect of having the real Envy ripped open.

As Edward started to run, the stone inside him guiding as if by a magnetic force, his dreadful companion gave one last whoop! and disappeared mid-leap. A rush of energy powered Ed's weary limbs, propelling him forward at a speed that burnt his eyes and stung a flush into his cheeks. Street signs passed in a blur of nonsensical letters, people stumbled to avoid him, he jumped over cars and fences, and most of all…

He ran.

The pulsing strengthened until it was simply a vibration, a rapid shuddering within his body, riling up his copious anger until a snarl burst from his lips. The socks he had donned the previous day were struggling to maintain their dignity as they pounded along the pavement, woollen fibres fraying and snapping and forming holes. Ed's feet didn't fare much better; his right foot was constantly surrounded by red sparks, the colour of the blood they healed.

Fake blood in a fake person sprinting to kill his fake creator.

He didn't care how many times he would have to watch Envy's death. He didn't care how many souls would go to waste. They weren't human any longer—Edward had seen that, back when he was human himself. It seemed like an age ago that the standard rule 'A knife to the head will kill you' was a veritable threat, but… It was scary how fast knowledge could alter and adapt.

Just a month ago, if someone had told Ed that he would soon be hurtling through Central in search of the homunculus Envy, he probably would have asked 'why?'. But there were no queries or questions regarding his purpose anymore.

He was going to ascertain that nothing remained of that damn monster. Not a hair, not a tooth, not even a single drop of blood.

It would all vanish, and then Ed could go on living like normal. Like he had before the whole ordeal began.

Oh, it seemed so long ago…

And as though that nostalgia was the key, the stone's thrumming ceased.

Its absence left a type of emptiness, a feeling of loss as Ed's run slowed… slowed… stopped, in front of the remains of a familiar building. A shudder wove its way down his spine, leaving behind anticipation and wiping away most of his worries. Envy was somewhere inside that building—waiting, maybe, for what Ed determined to be their last fight.

It was like some warped version of equivalent exchange. Nothing was given, and nothing was received, but everything came full-circle.

It made sense. Laboratory 5 held the memories of Ed's first battle against the homunculi, and now he was back as one himself. But unlike that first meeting, Ed was sure his automail would hold out. The only time he would allow it to break would be while he leered over the homunculus' last soul, last body, with blood caked into the gears and wires. Sure, it would be tough to explain to Winry, but he was sure she would understand. Eventually.

Yet again he caught himself prolonging the moment of Envy's death. Edward was acting by instinct, and every instinct urged him to savour the exhilaration filling him before what was sure to be a magnificent sparring match. He was standing on a road map like those given out at Central Station. One step forward would lead him down a main street, a second may drag him into somewhere far less inviting, but much more interesting. And so it would go on, until he reached the heart of the city and thrust his blade into it.

He took the first step of many, departing the unassuming pavement and entering the crumbling shadows of Lab 5's gate. When he came with Alphonse, a soldier had been stationed at the opening. But neglect and nature had clearly proved that soldier redundant; there was nothing left to guard.

Ivy crawled along the stone walls, still young and stretching out tender shoots tentatively, as if to ask 'is this okay?'. The more brave of its kind had already overwhelmed much of the brickwork that lay scattered along the ground, as well as much of the path. Red and white hazard tape, faded by the sun, did a poor job of concealing what Ed remembered to be a plain doorway. Whatever the homunculi had done blew that entrance to pieces, along with so much vital architecture Ed was surprised it still maintained about half of its structural integrity.

But walking inside, he decided that earlier guess of half was severely generous. It appeared that only the façade of the laboratory had survived so well, and beyond that was mere rubble and the occasional pillar of jagged stone. Ed picked through it cautiously, trying his best not to dislodge any pieces. He knew Envy was there, and wasn't haughty enough to believe that didn't go both ways, which made every move a risk.

Though when he climbed up a section of wall—his mind protesting the decision and quietly thanking the Gate he didn't wear his red cloak—he was able to affirm the nagging uncertainty chewing on his insides. Envy wasn't anywhere to be seen.

He was underground.

Ed dropped to the concrete, somewhat pleased with the spiderweb of cracks his automail produced, and wiped an arm across his forehead. The sun was beating down on Central, or else just on him, sticking his bangs to his cheeks and plastering his messy braid against the back of his neck. It would be nice to go somewhere cool.

With that thought in mind, Ed clapped his gloved hands together and slammed them to the ground. It shifted with a rumbling growl, blue light forcing the hard materials into a shape of Ed's choosing: a ladder. He didn't use it, though. By the time he had descended three rungs, Edward decided it was taking too damn long. Without checking the distance, he let go.

The rush of air chilled his skin and fluttered his clothes as if he were caught in front of a giant industrial fan. It was almost calming, until the ground chose to remind him of its presence.

Ed would have liked to say that his impact left a crater of sorts on the large tiles he hit, but the opposite was more truthful. As he struggled to regain his footing, the red lightning bright enough to obscure his vision, Ed watched as his bones popped back into realignment with sickening snaps—even the automail morphed back into full health—and listened to a familiar taunting laugh echo through the hall.

Blood trickled from his mouth, and he quickly wiped it away. Straightening up, Ed fixed his features into an unwavering scowl and addressed the monster before him.

"Envy."

Yep, he got his voice back. Hope you liked the chapter!

(Has anyone tried the Vegemite chocolate? It's good)