THREE WISE MONKEYS

Hey! pale-blue11 here!

So some of you might have noticed there wasn't an update last week. Basically, I've been ridiculously fucking busy what with mid-year exams last week and service week this week. I completely forgot about this until... about Tuesday? Luckily, this story's drawing to a close. 17/19 chapters. Sorry about last week! And thank you to the three people who took the time to review. You guys are awesome :)

To the people whom I owe PMs, I'll have them done asap!

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

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN • The Last Monday—part 3

His eyes burnt with all the strength of his hottest flames, forcing Roy to squint at the road ahead. It was dark, with just the twin circles of light cast by the military vehicle to keep him from running into an undeserving house or person. It had been a while since Colonel Mustang last drove himself; one of the benefits of his position was the lack of a need to do so. His tired mind was struggling to remember the functions of all the gears.

But it couldn't be helped. No one else was willing to chauffeur him around so late at night, and Lieutenant Hawkeye was preoccupied doing the same task as himself: catching the Fullmetal alchemist.

Edward had disappeared early that morning—immediately after Jeremy Colt vanished and all the personnel assigned to guarding the man were killed. It was too much of a coincidence to pass off as nothing more than chance. 'Edward Elric is guilty'. Even Mustang had a hard time believing anything else.

There were currently almost a hundred men scouring Central for signs of the wayward alchemist, but nothing had turned up. Not a single report had come in—positive or negative. As soon as an area was cleared, the military moved on. Roy was certain they'd searched the entire city—they couldn't find Ed if Ed didn't want to be found. And he obviously didn't want to be.

Roy slowed the car in preparation to stop. The roads were empty, save for a single man or woman slouched on the footpath. On any other day, Roy may have stopped and asked the individual if they were alright, and perhaps escort them to the nearest homeless shelter. At the very least, he would have asked one of his subordinates to do it for him.

But he was busy. And tired. And the sooner he found Edward, the sooner he could go to bed. He doubted that he could drive for much longer before running his vehicle off the road.

A glint of metal caught Roy's eye, making his foot ease up on the accelerator. It was impossible—and had happened several times over the course of the day—but he was suddenly sure that his job was finished. He'd found the Fullmetal alchemist.

Craning his neck out the window, Mustang briefly wondered if his eyes were in so much pain as to create hallucinations, or if that really was Ed half-dead and half-dressed on the pavement. His automail was in full view thanks to the shredded design of his shirt, and even in the waning gas light, his hair seemed to shine.

"Fullmetal?" he muttered softly, hardly daring to trust what he was seeing. The car had slowed to a crawl, and with a bang! the engine stalled. Cursing, Roy relit the ignition and fought the gears back to first. Yet while it sputtered, it refused to come back to life. "Damn it."

A knock on his window snapped Mustang away from his car troubles, causing him to look up at his visitor with an emotive glare. Ed barely reacted. After a moment of immobility, he wandered back to his earlier place and fell into it heavily.

Judging it safe to do so, Roy abandoned his vehicle in the middle of the street. The lights were on, warning the oncoming traffic if any happened to arrive. It was unlikely—the time of night, added to the poor status of the area, made it just about impossible. The red brake lights threw Ed into a crimson pool, and Roy joined him there. Sitting beside him with his feet in the gutters, Mustang searched the face of the boy beside him. Because that was all Edward really was—a boy. A damn unfortunate one, but that didn't matter in the eyes of normal society. A boy shouldn't have had such an expressionless visage, nor so many unpleasant memories.

Ed didn't respond to the blatant stare, but that was nothing new. Not recently. Recently, it had been more common to see the doll-like Edward. The angry one had stepped back, leaving an achingly empty chair that begged to be filled.

"Fullmetal."

The boy glanced up at his name, like an obedient dog. A dog of the military.

"Fullmetal. I hope you know there are people looking for you."

Slowly, Edward nodded. Mustang continued to speak, knowing that his companion could not.

"Can you tell me where you've been? This morning—"

"I didn't kill them." Ed kept a steady gaze on Roy's one of shock. It seemed a lot of things had changed in the past day; Ed's voice was just the beginning if his eyes were anything to go by.

Mustang fixed his mouth into a thin line. It gave him an air of displeasure, superiority, and impatience. "Very well. Then tell me where you've been all day."

Ed's shoulders stiffened and he turned away. He didn't answer.

"If you don't say something, Fullmetal, I'll be forced to assume the worst."

There was a long pause. "I know."

Mustang waited for a follow-up to that comment, but one never came. The night felt cold, whether from his company or the temperature, and so he pulled his coat in tighter, hoping it didn't undermine his authority to be seen shivering. Ed, just beside him, didn't appear to notice. Even dressed as he was—in barely more than the essentials—he showed no sign of discomfort.

"… Fullmetal," Roy began, avoiding the vacant face that rose to meet his. "What're you doing here? This is quite literally the last place we'd think to look."

Ed shrugged. "I didn't know what to do. I think I'm lost. Colonel?"

"Yes?"

"Are you gonna lock me up?"

Mustang frowned, suddenly wishing he'd had the sense to slip on his gloves before starting the conversation. Ed was a suspected criminal, after all.

"We'll only lock you up if you ki—"

"I didn't."

"Then—" Roy caught himself before he asked once more where Ed had spent the day. He didn't want to be talking in circles for the rest of the night—it would be better to collect Ed and take him to Headquarters, and yet he baulked at the idea. It just didn't seem like the right way to get Edward to confess.

It was at that moment that Roy realised that he had already decided Ed's guilt was a certainty. It was no longer a question of 'Is he guilty? No. The question was 'Is he innocent?'

Instead, he adopted a gentle, kind tone—the tone used on young or irrational children—and asked, "Don't you wanna go home? Why come here? Al's been worried sick. Again."

At the mention of Alphonse, Ed's eyes went wide and his nostrils flared, but not in an indication of anger. The flicker of emotion that flitted over him was clearly much more complex than that—since when had Edward Elric been any less than complex? The tiny glimpse Roy managed to catch before Ed turned away babbled of fear, anxiety, sorrow, hurt. Anxiety played an important role in the manner in which he clasped his elbows firmly in both shaking hands, clutching them close to his body. A body that was still suffering the malnourishment of the past week, no matter how hard Al had tried to force Ed to normal.

Ed's hair sheltered the remainder of his reaction from Mustang's curiosity. "No," he mumbled quietly. Goosebumps were rising on his bare skin, leading Roy to suspect that he really was cold. "No, I don't wanna see him." Suddenly, Ed lurched upwards, leaving Roy stunned on the ground. "I gotta go."

Roy straightened to his full height, looming over Ed. He was hoping it might extract a few more answers from the boy. "Go where, Fullmetal?"

Ed waved a hand around vaguely, spinning to examine the entire street. "Somewhere, I guess. Hey—" he almost jabbed Roy in the chest, but stopped at the last second. "Tell Al something for me."

"No. I'm not your messenger boy, Edward."

The use of his full name coaxed a glare out of him, and for a moment Roy was able to glimpse the old Fullmetal lurking beneath his new façade.

"Just tell him something," Ed persisted, adding a, "Please," as an afterthought. "I know you'll be seeing him soon."

"As will you." Mustang discretely patted his pocket in search for his gloves. No such luck. "If you come back the Headquarters with me."

Ed shook his head stubbornly. "You don't understand, bastard. I can't see him. I can't!" He pointed a threatening automail finger in Roy's direction. "And you can't make me! I'm leaving the military, a-and so you can't do anything."

The conversation had diverted from its intended path, speeding towards topics that Roy felt were better remaining untouched. And yet he couldn't find a way out. The earlier plan to hear Ed's side of the story, and then take him back to someplace safe for further interrogation, had been utterly overturned. Without any warning, Roy was plunged into the middle of a large ocean. The figurative waves soaked his gloves, reducing him to nothing more useful than a housefly. He could buzz all he wanted, but all Ed would do was bring out the swatter.

Yet he still had to try.

"Fullmetal," he began in a commanding manner. "If you won't listen to me as your colonel, then listen to me as an adult. Your brother scoured the entire city for you when he heard that you were missing. He caught the first train back to Central, and wasted absolutely no time in coming to help the rest of us. Now I understand," Roy's voice rose when Ed started to protest, "that you've been through a lot. We all understand this. It's why we've been putting up with your crap ever since I found you! But this just isn't fair, Ed. You've made Al worry again, and refuse to answer any of my questions. It's equivalent exchange: we helped you, so now it's time for you to help us. Understand?"

Ed remained wilfully silent, but there was a slight guilt shining through his outward mask. With every passing second, his faux armour cracked a bit more, until finally he spoke. It was in a quiet and defeated voice, but he spoke.

"He'll be disappointed." His fingers twitched, perhaps wanted to wind together. "I-I can't get his body back. I broke my promise, a-and—a-and I… I can't watch him when he realises what I've done."

That was what Roy had been waiting for. "And what have you done?"

Ed stared at him as if to say 'Isn't that obvious?'. "I've let him down."

"Not yet you haven't," Mustang insisted, reaching out to capture Ed's automail arm in an effort to keep him in place. "You don't have to leave without at least saying goodbye."

Edward yanked his arm back, scowling. "Who says it was a goodbye? You wouldn't even hear it."

"I know a goodbye when I see it." Roy gestured to his broken car. "Now stop acting like a brat, and come to Headquarters with me. We can sort this all out, Fullmetal."

Ed once again shook his head. "I didn't do it. I couldn't kill him properly, and now h-he's somewhere! And I'm fucking lost and i-it looks familiar, but I don't know where I am! I don't know what to do, Colonel! But…" he fell into a sombre mood. "I know I can't see Al."

Roy resisted the urge to sigh. "Fullmetal. You're not making any sense."

Without any warning, Edward plummeted to the road. The landing scuffed his automail, releasing a few sparks. Immediately, he started to shake, wrapping his arms around himself as if trying to hold himself together. Roy stayed on his feet, not keen on another visit to the cold pavement.

Ed was muttering almost feverishly, glancing up every few moments with imploring eyes that begged Roy to pay attention, or so Roy assumed. It was just about impossible to interpret the ramblings. Ed, maybe comprehending the confusion he was causing, paused in his explanation and continued in a steadier pace.

"Y-you don't know what he did. What h-he did in that house," were the words Ed chose to debut with. "You saw th-the blood, but still don't know. How thick are you? Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stu—"

"Just spit it out, Fullmetal," Mustang ordered in his most assertive tone, despite the way his knees were shaking. "Is there something important about that blood?"

Ed looked up at him like a young child being reprimanded by the actions of his younger sibling. "I-I-I… You should know! N-no, you won't believe me."

"Try it."

He hung his head in between his legs and trembled violently. "You won't believe me."

"You don't know that. Come on." Roy forced a smile when Ed looked up. "I might surprise you."

Through shuddering breaths, Edward appeared to calm himself fractionally. "That… that blood…" He closed his eyes. "It… It was m-mine, Mustang. It was everywhere. An-and it hurt so bad," at that point, he lowered his voice to a whisper.

Roy opened his mouth to say, 'There's absolutely no way that blood was yours'. After all, there wasn't a single physical wound on Ed's body. Every injury was contained within his mind—and yet it had somehow evolved to a type of insanity with corporeal substance. It was worrisome knowledge, but at least it allowed Edward to plead mental instability when it came to his trial.

"I knew it," Ed said, effectively interrupting Roy's thoughts. "You don't believe me, bastard. You don't, do you?"

"Well…" Mustang warned himself to tread carefully; Ed was a suspected criminal, and the 'suspected' part of that description was fading by the moment. "It's hard to believe."

"How do I prove it?"

The pure determination in Ed's behaviour came as a strong shock. His emotions were changing as if drawn in and out by indiscernible tides—powerful at one turn, and weak at the next. They were continually wearing away at Roy's conviction, but it was impossible as of yet to determine whatever his conclusion would be.

"How do I prove it?" Ed repeated, brows joining at the centre in a display of extreme annoyance.

Roy pressed his lips together. "You don't need to. Just come see Alphonse—we don't need to go to Headquarters just now—and we'll sort this out."

"N-no, I'm serious, Mustang," Ed protested. "It was horrible, a-all that—all that metal everywhere. I can't stay with him anymore."

"Why the sudden aversion to metal?"

Ed grimaced, and the light in his eyes again died. "He had a knife. It was shiny and cold and sharp and hot and painful and-and Al's the same in that body. N-not really painful, but he's… he's cold."

"He's cold?" Roy frowned slightly. "He's always been cold, Ed. That never bothered you before."

"Listen!" Ed just about screamed. "You're not listening! I-I'm hurting him, just by being there! But-but I—a-and I can't control it—I-I-I… don't want this!"

Roy watched, frozen, helpless, as the boy pulled on his hair, flattening his bangs and seeming to stretch his face downwards with it. He was still mumbling to himself in a feverish manner, and his attention was continually darting around the deserted street as if scanning for potential threats. Every shadow was an enemy, intent on their lives, and every rodent a sinister omen. Roy couldn't see it—he was too focused on the flash of red hiding just beneath Ed's maltreated hair.

A crimson serpent, forever chasing after its tail.

The Ouroboros.

"Edward…" he said, hardly louder than a breath. "What have you done?"

Mustang wasn't talking about the four or so guards murdered that morning, and Ed seemed to know this. His eyes—so much like a wary, untamed animal—flicked up to Roy's, and held his horrified gaze with one of grim understanding. Then, like curtains over a window, Ed grew defensive. It was a bestial reaction, an instinctive reaction, a damning reaction.

With a nauseating, definite conviction, the Flame alchemist knew he was going to die. Homunculi weren't known for their kindness.

But Ed just wavered to his feet, never looking away from Roy's dread. His blond strands were free from their usual braid, and for the first time the colonel noticed the bloodstained clothes, and the lack of blood.

"Just let me leave, Mustang." Ed must have recognised his considerable advantage, and yet his request was quiet and reserved. "And apologise to Al for me. Don't…" at that, he averted his gaze. "Please don't tell anyone what happened to me. It was an accident."

Roy blinked, and when he opened his eyes, his former-subordinate was gone.

As he slumped against the nearest building in relief, he fancied he could hear two feet—one flesh and the other steel—walking away. But he couldn't see anyone. The road was empty.

If anyone is interested (concerning last chapter's end note), justaislinn left a review that I thought was really interesting. You should check it out :)

But first, PLEASE leave a comment! Writing is much more fun when you know people are actually reading it!