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

- x -

"You've figured it out, then," he stated without preamble, gesturing to Breda.

"What would Scar do," the voice on the other end of the phone replied, and Roy Mustang fought hard to keep the amusement out of his voice.

"Sorn carved an array around one of my cities?"

There was some static, or possibly it was Fullmetal's irritated breath huffing over the receiver. "Once Scar's plan reached critical mass, he disappeared. He went to the place the battle he put into motion would be fought, and carved his array. Franklin's doing the same thing."

Mustang freed his pocketwatch and flicked a glance at it as Breda came back to his desk with the map. "You've been on that train almost all day, Fullmetal, and that's all you have to tell me?"

More static. "Scar drew the array around Liore in such a way that the soldiers approaching the city didn't see it. The trenches were laid across the streets to look like gutters No one put the pieces together until it was too late."

"Much as this history lesson is intriguing, Fullmetal, are you planning to come to a point?"

"Creta." He sounded quite irritated, and Mustang grinned to himself as he studied the map.

"Why West City?"

"Not West City," Ed replied. "Sorn doesn't want to use our army, remember?"

"Have you spoken to him about his plans?"

"He's not stupid. It's too risky. I assume you still have the map I left you?"

Roy didn't respond, other than to draw the map closer, but apparently Edward could hear the frame grinding across his desk.

"I was looking over the smaller maps Sorn had with him. If you look west, you'll see the topography."

Mustang scanned the map while the major took a chair opposite his desk. "What am I looking for?"

"A place an army advancing on West City would approach without noticing an array." Edward sounded quite smug. "One of the reasons the military doesn't guard West City as closely is because there are only four avenues of attack Creta can use to approach it without encountering any Amestrian border towns. Since it's further behind the border than South, Creta couldn't get the drop on it unless they avoided the peasants between."

"This is not new information, Edward."

"So you've found the place I'm thinking of?"

Roy held back his own sigh, analyzing the landscape more closely. The routes Creta could take were well-documented with the military, and Fullmetal was actually right. As far as security was concerned, West was less fortified than South, for the very reason Ed had stated. And as for the four avenues Creta could take, only two of them had really been marked as passable by such a large army in a short amount of time. One of them took them over the wide plains, which were a bit too dry to support crops or large numbers of livestock, and the other was fairly rugged, encountering the mountain chain that fed the small rivers that ran through those plains.

It would probably be easy to hide an array in the mountainous region, but incredibly hard to cut it into the rock. Unless, of course, he used alchemy to create the array. But it would also be more likely that the army would spread out over the mountains, since the paths there were only meant for small cart animals. It would have to be a much larger array to guarantee that the vast majority of the attacking army was within the array before transmuting, and the larger the array, the harder the transmutation.

The plains would be much easier, but then again, a giant circle cut into the grass would be terribly evident. So even if the army was moving together as a unit, and the array could be much smaller, having that many people trouping over that kind of land would mean the array would have to be cut quite deep, and it would be recognizable-

"I'll take that as a no," Ed continued. "The plains. They're coming via the plains."

"Why are you so certain?"

"Look where they narrow as they approach the steppes," Professor Elric instructed. He probably didn't even know he was using his lecturing tone. "Not only will the army be in tighter quarters, but look at what the land is doing."

The altitude indicated a downward slope, which was good if they were bringing any war engines with them-

Which also meant they'd be walking down the array, and much less likely to notice it through the grass than if the land was flat or sloped up.

Roy's gaze flickered down towards the south. Was there any such place of strategic import there?

But Ed was already ahead of him. "There's no place nearly as convenient near South. Gotten any reports of AWOL patrols in West?"

He sighed, lightly. "Actually, Sheska found some rather interesting orders given in West City recently."

A train whistle blew in the background of the phone, and Ed waited for it to die before he spoke again. "Really."

Roy picked up the memo. "It seems a Colonel Veiss ordered a fire drill for this upcoming week. Several regiments from South and Central were ordered to West to participate."

For a moment, Mustang wondered if the line had been dropped. "A fire drill."

"The drill is designed to help train military personnel how to respond should a grassfire threaten crops and towns, and how to handle the influx of citizens into West."

"Oh." Ed sounded much less skeptical. "Wait, are you saying we don't do those kinds of drills?"

"The military prepares for all manner of natural disasters, as you would have known if you'd bothered with boot camp." He let the memo slip back to the desk. "And they are normally scheduled around this time of year."

"So what's the problem?"

"The State Military currently does not have any records of a Colonel Veiss serving. The memo is dated two days ago."

" . . . Sheska has all serving members of the military memorized?" He sounded slightly stunned.

"Just the officers, apparently." It was still personnel in the thousands, and it was still impressive.

"So you're saying Franklin sent that memo, to get reinforcements secretly to West?"

Mustang drew in a deep breath, relaxing further into his chair as his office doors opened. He nodded once to Hawkeye, who stepped aside to allow a tottering, bent old woman to enter his offices. She was almost buried under a pile of clothes.

"It certainly looks that way," he allowed. "If you're correct in assuming Sorn means to transmute the Cretian army prior to their arrival at West, perhaps this was his guarantee against failure."

"Will it be enough?" Edward always was quick to pick up on such things.

Probably not against the numbers that Creta would throw at them if they truly thought they could take West City. It added half again the men, but that was still only about a thousand. One thousand men against a probable force of at least six thousand.

And if they had chosen the plains rather than the mountains, it was more likely a fighting force of ten thousand or more. Enough to fortify West against Amestris' first counterattack while more forces were moved in to relieve them.

The line was silent for several moments, and Roy lowered his voice as Hawkeye and Breda moved to assist the elderly woman. "I'll take care of West, Fullmetal."

He clearly heard a snort. "Tolya actually went for it?"

"He seems to be biding his time, for now."

Another pause. "I'm going to need some money wired to West."

"Enjoying your freedom?"

Edward snorted again. "When I get back, tell that bastard Hakuro his temporary papers had me questioned at every freakin' station. I'm amazed I got the Dublith at all."

It was unlike Edward to complain about something so trite, and after a moment his voice became more serious. "Will you or won't you?"

He knew what Fullmetal was really asking. Franklin Sorn was young, almost as young as Edward when he'd disobeyed a direct order and gone against the military. However, nothing Edward had done was even close to this public, nor this readily dangerous to the population at large. If Franklin was taken into custody by the Amestrian military, he would be brought back to Central and put on trial. And found guilty.

And there wouldn't be much clemency for someone who had tried to assassinate the Prime Minister, no matter his reasons.

Giving him some money, as his State accounts had already been frozen, and letting him go would be the only way Edward could save him. And clearly he wanted the option. Even though Sorn might be responsible for Fletcher's death. Or worse, his resurrection.

"Russell Tringum is still unaccounted for," Roy replied.

More silence.

"Sorn worked a long time for this," he continued into that silence. "He may also have an amplifier."

"I know," Edward answered in a low voice. "Mustang-" But then he stopped.

"Whatever you do, do not engage the Cretian military." It should go without saying, but he knew full well who he was talking to. "Leave West City to me."

The seconds ticked by, and he heard another train whistle. "That's my ride," Edward said suddenly, in clipped tones. "Are those your orders, sir?"

"If you'd prefer, I will assign someone to replace you."

When Fullmetal responded, his voice was icy. "You keep Al the hell away from this."

Roy blinked, slightly taken aback by the ferocity. "Alphonse has confirmed your suspicions and is currently looking for places a human transmutation could have occurred in Central." No one else on the planet would have interpreted that as an apology or a promise, but it was both, and Edward would figure it out eventually. "Alex Armstrong would be especially suited to disrupting an array like the one you expect to find, however."

"That won't be necessary." Ed didn't sound mollified in the slightest. Then again, he probably wasn't happy that Mustang had sent his brother off to find and possibly have to deal with a homunculus. "You forget who you're talking to?"

Something about his tone wasn't quite right, and Mustang knew it was probably already too late as he shouted into the phone. "Fullmetal!"

But it was already clicking down. Even if Ed had heard him, he'd be ignoring him at this point.

Mustang held the phone a moment, just to make sure it was well and truly disconnected, and then he replaced it calmly. Breda was looking at him with a raised eyebrow, and Hawkeye with a slightly disapproving look. He had to resist the urge to shrug at her.

But he didn't miss her point. Just because he still could manipulate Edward didn't mean he should. There just wasn't much help for it.

He couldn't let it be traced back that Edward had given Sorn State money. They were both alchemists, after all; if Sorn was willing to commit treason there was no reason he wouldn't be willing to transmute gold. Edward would still stop him, because he knew better than almost anyone that Amestris couldn't afford to suffer another Stone. He would also prevent them from being captured by the Cretians, because Sorn was in nearly as much danger from them as he was from his own country. If Creta realized he'd sent orders to fortify West, as paltry as they were, he would be branded a spy and killed.

Now Edward would do the only thing he could. He would stop the Stone from being transmuted, get them out, and make Sorn disappear.

But what he couldn't do was protect West City. That was up to them.

"Colonel, if you would please summon Major General Armstrong," he said mildly, and she saluted immediately and left.

The major was looking at him a little curiously, and Mustang quirked an eyebrow. "You'll be receiving your orders momentarily, Major. Please have a seat."

He did as he was asked, sending a fearful glance back at the ancient woman, who was looking him up and down quite openly.

- x -

If there could have been an anti-Avrim Blane, he thought with amusement, this gentleman surely would be him.

The squat, wiry, decidedly older man fixed him with a flat, unfriendly stare, door only half-ajar. He didn't really need to speak, though; his wife was doing a splendid job on his behalf.

"- on the door at all hours of the morning, doesn't anyone know we don't keep baker's hours anymore-"

Well, at least he had the right place.

Which was the doorstep of a humble, handsome house just four miles outside downtown Central. The mailbox at the sidewalk had recently had a fresh coat of bright yellow paint, and it proclaimed the residence to be the Price's. He expected he was looking at Dolph Price himself, but try as he might, he couldn't put that sour face with any memories he had, as armor or boy.

"Mr. Price?" Alphonse Elric tried in a respectful voice.

He wasn't sure the old man was even blinking.

"-inconsiderate bounty hunters, figured we'd gotten away from them when we moved from Liore-"

The old man had him pinned with uncompromising dull brown eyes, a far darker color than his own, but Al soon decided there was far more to this man than it appeared when he finally twisted his lips and spoke.

"Edward Elric's brother," he ground. "Honey glazed."

Al blinked at him in surprise. "Er, that's right-"

The door didn't move so much as a centimeter in either direction despite the revelation. "Same preference as your brother," the old baker continued in a completely expressionless voice. "You never tried anything else."

"I wasn't in Liore that long . . ." he faltered, and he was suddenly conscious of the fact that he'd shrunk away from the man's disapproval. He straightened his spine at once. "Mr. Price, I'd like to speak with you and your wife a moment if I could."

The man grunted. "Shop's closed."

"It's about Franklin Sorn."

The door slammed in his face.

Not that it blocked out Mrs. Price, still ranting. He couldn't make out the words as easily, but it proved the door could be shouted through. "He's in trouble," Al continued loudly at the pleasantly weathered door. More trouble than he realizes. "Please, I need your help."

The door stayed resolutely shut.

He thought about mentioning it was life and death, but that seemed an overly dramatic thing to shout at a door. He could always assure them he wasn't a bounty hunter, but what would have made them think it in the first place-

Al closed his eyes. The newspapers. Hakuro had released the photo to the general public and a reward for information. Which meant he really had come to the right place. This, at least, wasn't a lie. Franklin really had known them, and they him.

"He's going to be killed," Al finally announced, hoping his voice wasn't carrying over the walls to the Price's neighbors. They really would be bothered by bounty hunters if it got out that they had a connection to the boy. "Please."

The ranting had stopped, but it was a long time before the door opened, and Al got the impression that Dolph hadn't ever moved away from it. The wood opened the same amount, showed the same face.

Mr. Price glared at him for a moment. "What's he done?"

Again, Alphonse felt pinned by the look. It was hard to remember he wasn't still a child when this man was staring at him. "Biological transmutation," he answered in a much quieter tone, watching the old face for some reaction. When he didn't get one, he still wasn't sure the old man didn't know what he was referring to. "He's about to do something very dangerous, and it won't end well for him or anyone else."

Mr. Price glared at him a moment more - and then the door opened. "Edward Elric's brother better not be a liar," he growled as he did it, and Al felt his heart sink.

"Thank you, sir," is all he said, and he found himself being allowed into a cozy hallway that led into an equally comfortable sitting room. There, in a worn but serviceable recliner, under three quarters of a fully made quilt, sat a painfully familiar old woman, her face heavily creased from smiles, winding her needle expertly through the fabric.

He was also surprised to find that she hadn't, in fact, stopped ranting. She'd just gotten quieter about it. "-the poor boy alone, he's been through enough and I'll bet fifteen sacks that nothing good will come of this-" Then she seemed to see his shadow, and looked up briefly before coming back for a second round.

". . . Alphonse Elric," she said slowly. "Honey glazed."

"Alphonse," the old man repeated. "That's right. Seems to me you were the boy that always wore that armor."

Al smiled brightly at the old woman, but despite her recognizing him, she didn't return the pleasant look.

"Don't you grin at me, boy," she told him in a very loud, stern voice. "You won't find nothing soft and sweet in this house!"

"She's a little deaf," Mr. Price grumbled, "so you'll need to speak up."

Well, that explained a lot.

Al nodded and let himself look a little more serious. They did recognize him, and he recognized her, but - maybe if the old man smiled. Clearly they all knew each other. "I need to find Franklin," he started firmly, without preamble. "Do you know where he is?"

She glared daggers at him a moment, then ignored him utterly and went back to her quilt. Her voice, when she spoke, was still just as loud as before. "Even if I did I wouldn't tell you."

"Maddie, he said the boy's in trouble."

"I know that!" She didn't look up at her husband, either. "I'm not deaf!"

Al pressed his lips together and gave Dolph a slightly sympathetic look. "We think Franklin is going to try forbidden alchemy."

"Well, of course you think that. Then you could arrest him or some such nonsense!"

"He's one of my pupils," Al snapped, completely before he could help himself. "I'm only worried about his well-being, nothing else." He said the second more softly, but she'd already responded to his previous tone, and her mouth was opening wide to let him have it-

And then she stopped, and cocked her head to the side. "You were a sweet little boy," she finally said, in a much softer voice. To herself, Al realized. She didn't know she was speaking aloud, or loudly enough for anyone to hear.

"We can't help you," she finally declared, and went back to her quilt dismissively.

Al stared at her a moment, then turned to Dolph. But he was shaking his head. "You heard my wife." He was stumping back towards the hall, and Al glanced between the two of them unhappily.

"Please, even if you don't know where he is, can you at least tell me where he might go?"

She ignored him utterly, and Mr. Price was giving him a hard look. "You'd best be on your way now."

"He's trying to protect you," Al tried one last time, making his tone cooler. He hated to manipulate people, especially ones he knew, but this couple obviously had more information than they were going to share with him. "He stole your tax records from State archives. Do you know how I found you?"

The needle kept flickering steadily. In, out. In, out. Mr. Price was silent.

"He tried to steal his medical records," Al continued. "Central Hospital still had the record from when he broke his leg, and you two had to bring him here for treatment."

The needle kept flicking. Mr. Price kept staring at him, but eventually his shoulders dropped slightly. "Stupid boy," he finally grumbled, and Al honestly wasn't sure who he was talking about. "It was a bad break, too."

"The trip here was even worse," Madelyne murmured, to herself though both of them could hear. "Liore doctors had set the bone, but every time the train jostled him he'd cry, the poor thing." Her face was troubled, and the needle was slowing.

"I've never noticed him limping," Al observed, loudly enough that Madelyne could hear him. "You must have gotten him here right away. Why did you go to such trouble for one Rose's orphans?"

"He wasn't one of Rose's orphans," Maddie answered sharply, and he had her eyes again. "She just kept an eye on him is all, and a good thing too! All alone in a city like Liore . . ."

Al blinked. "Wasn't Avram Blane with him, at least some of the time?" After all, he's said they'd traveled to Liore to complete research, and while it wouldn't have been odd to have found Franklin studying on his own and playing with Rose's kids, it wasn't as though he was totally alone there.

Madelyne flinched, and Al saw bright drop of blood on her finger as she raised it to inspect it. Mr. Price answered for her.

"You mean that good for nothing charlatan?" The old baker actually took a step towards him. "Did he send you here?"

Al turned to more fully face Dolph, letting his confusion show. "No." And even if Blane was looking, Al doubted any bounty hunters would find the Prices. Not unless Mustang gave the information to Hakuro. "What do you mean, charlatan? Wasn't Blane Franklin's alchemy teacher?"

Dolph looked like he was having an aneurism. His lips were pulled tight, exposing an incomplete set of teeth, and his eyes finally held something - anger. "He was Franklin's treachery teacher," he snarled. "That leech clung to that poor boy like a drowning man clings to a rope. He did nothing but smother and twist Frankie until he practically didn't know up from down!"

"Avram Blane is a demon, Alphonse Elric," Maddie agreed darkly, studying the droplet of blood on her finger intently. "Anything he gets ahold of, he bleeds the life right out of it. When we met Frank, he had already forgotten how to be a child. I expect you know about that," she added softly, to herself.

Al just looked between the two of them. Jannai had revered him, Franklin had clearly been in communication with him, so there hadn't been a falling out . . . but then, what was Franklin doing in Liore by himself all those years ago?

"Do you know how he came to be in Liore?"

"He was studying, like you and your brother," Dolph finally supplied, in a far more civil tone. As if something had just changed completely. "Studying for that monster, turned out."

Maddie had popped her finger into her mouth, but was still glaring daggers at nothing in particular, so Al turned more fully to face Dolph. "Do you know what he was studying?"

The old man shook his head regretfully. "Nah. Didn't make much sense to a pair of bakers. But that was good, too. We almost taught him how to slow down, before . . ." He huffed in frustration. "Guess it doesn't matter anymore. We did as right by that boy as we could."

They were old, clearly retired, and suddenly Al wondered if maybe Franklin really had been protecting them, and not himself. Maybe he'd really been there to make sure these two people, people he'd referred to as 'parents,' would be spared visits from people like him.

Or worse.

"I don't doubt that," Al agreed. "He spoke of you as his parents."

The old man's face lit up, just a little. "He did love, in his own way. Even at his worst . . ." But then the happy look left him, and Mr. Price was old and angry. "Loved his own parents. Never spoke of it, but you could see it all over him. That's why he played with Rose's kids, you know. When they could force him into it."

"He wanted so badly to prove he was independent," Madelyne supplied, when it was clear Al hadn't followed. "Blane got him right after his parents died, and after their fight, all Frankie wanted to be was the boy who could take care of himself. Even with that leg, he wouldn't go to the doctor. Good thing his doctor here in Central was such an ass," she added loudly. "Two peas in a pod. Did a right job with him, though."

But Al had already let the laugh slip out. "My . . . guardian, I guess you could say, she's one of Ackernath's patients too. And I know what you mean."

Madelyn's expression softened a bit. "Can you really help him?"

She knew they weren't talking about Ackernath. "Yes." He knew Ed was already on his way to stop Franklin, and if anyone could do it before Franklin did something incredibly stupid, it would be nii-san. Talk about peas in a pod. "I guess you could say my brother and I have been in . . . well, in his situation before."

"I was always glad about that," Maddie told him, quietly, but this time he was sure she meant for him to hear. "That you came back. That you actually got to eat one of the donuts you bought."

Al was stunned, but only for a moment. Of course, she was just north of the plaza, she would have seen that his armored form had bought the back only to give the entire thing to his brother. "Oh, it wasn't like that. Ed was just hungry a lot, you know-"

"You could tell that by looking at him," Dolph muttered. "Haven't seen him since he got back, but you filled out all right. Imagine he's about the same."

"He's good," Al agreed, then took a deep breath. "Do you know where Franklin might have gone?"

The Prices exchanged a look, then Madelyne frowned. "You should ask Avram Blane."

Al cocked his head to the side, but Dolph didn't offer any more information, so Al tried again. "I did, actually. He said he had no idea, and that Franklin had missed sending him a letter-"

"You mean a report," Dolph snarled. "Still has him under his thumb." The old man gestured for Al to sit, so he did, taking a spot on an old navy love seat. Dolph remained standing.

"When we met Frankie, he'd just had a row with Blane. Figured out the man was no good, or at least we'd hoped he had." His voice was dark. "He was hungry. Like your brother. And we couldn't ever have kids of our own. Which was fine, ownin' a sweetshop meant we got to borrow everyone else's. But Frankie didn't really want Rose's help, so we fooled him into accepting ours."

Al could see how easy it would have been. A hot donut was pretty much the best comfort food he could think of, and Franklin had been young indeed when he'd been in Liore.

As young as they'd been, and Al still remembered that donut shop.

"He'd come to Liore, we thought to work on his own research, but it turned out he was trying to get back into that bastard's good graces. He left Liore as soon as he'd found something he knew Blane had been looking for for a long time, figured it would be enough to buy his love. As if he ever had it in the first place."

Madelyne had turned back to her quilting, the needling flicking expertly once more. Her expression was unreadable.

"We didn't hear from him in a long time. Figured he'd forgotten about us, or we'd just been like a book to the kid. When we retired and closed up shop, though, we found the house being packed one day. I let 'em have it, until one of the workmen handed my wife a letter. It was from Franklin. He'd bought us this house, wanted us out of the hot and the dry. Said it wasn't good for our hands."

He jerked his chin at his wife. "He was right. She ain't been able to quilt in, oh, fifteen years. After you spend a life beating dough there ain't much left." He held up his own hands, knotted and discolored with age. "That quilt she's making, it's for him."

Al looked back at Madelyne, who was pointedly ignoring them.

"It's good to hear that he called us kin," Dolph finally continued. "Like I said, he loves in his own way. Difficult, but he's not a bad kid."

Al fought to dredge up a smile, unspeakably glad he hadn't told them what else Franklin was wanted for. The old folks might be bad judges of character, considering they hated Blane and thought Sorn walked on water, but they'd certainly gotten him and Ed nailed, and for some reason he trusted them. It was hard not to. They wore their hearts on their sleeves, too old and too impatient to lie or dress up the truth.

In fact, they rather reminded him of Pinako.

"Did you ever meet Blane?"

"Once," Madelyne didn't look up from the quilt. "It was enough. Didn't you say you'd met him as well, Alphonse?"

Al felt his eyebrows crawling for his hairline. "Er, yes ma'am-"

"Then you know," she said simply. "I wouldn't mind not knowing where the boy's run off to, as long as he really doesn't either."

Al felt his heart sink again. "You really have no idea?"

Dolph shook his head. "We haven't heard from him after we moved. I know he knows where we live," he added with a grumble. "But it's enough to have this place. Woulda thought the boy had put it together himself, how close it matches the picture."

Al gave him a politely puzzled look, and Dolph gestured that he follow him. "Need a drink of water before you're off?"

That was a more polite dismissal. "Ah, no, thank you. It was very nice to meet you, Mrs. Price," he added, and this time she didn't roll her eyes at his smile.

"Next time try the truth," she warned him instead, shaking the quilting needle at him. "We've been in the people business all our lives. You trust me when I tell you he's a good kid."

Al found himself nodding before he even digested her words, and this seemed to placate her. "Tell your brother to stop by. Now that my hands are feeling better, I think I could reward friends of Franklin with a batch or two."

He so promised, and was then led into a kitchen that was undoubtedly a baker's dream. Long, deep granite counters stretched completely around the room, as well as an island large enough for two adults to sleep comfortably. On the wall by the generous kitchen table was a small picture in an old, whitewashed frame, and Al was shocked to see the pleasantly weathered door in the center of the picture, attached to the house that might as well have been a photograph from outside.

"Neighbors say the thing has been standing here for thirty years," Dolph stated, sticking a toothpick in his mouth. "But my Maddie painted this picture when she was just a girl. If we'd known Franklin thirty years ago, I'd have sworn that boy had made every timber in the place." The old man crossed his arms, swapping the toothpick from his right to his left.

"Then again, the neighbors got a good thing going on, living next to bakers. Maybe they're just telling us what Frankie told 'em to."

- x -

It was beautiful.

He and Al had been through here before, on their way to Creta, actually, many years ago. Europe didn't really have plains like this, though apparently the United States and Africa did, and watching the golden green stalks dance, he might as well have been in the center of the ocean. Constantly in motion, and that motion seemed to be the most natural thing in the world, yet completely unpredictable.

In fact, even from this angle, it was hard to see. If he'd been approaching from the west, it would have been completely invisible.

Edward Elric glanced around, letting the vehicle idle. It was just light, and if the grass hid the array that well, it wouldn't have a lot of trouble hiding Sorn. He had clearly been here, as the array was, near as Ed could tell, completed. Maybe he'd headed back towards West for a break, or because the army had been delayed again.

In fact, Ed reflected, there was no guarantee the army was going to be arriving until the next assassination attempt on Mustang. Unless Hakuro was right, and they were out of time.

The idea of the general being right chafed him, and he turned off the engine, opening the creaking door and stepping out into the early morning chill. He was going to have to stop chaining together so many sleepless nights, he decided, wrapping his coat more tightly around himself. The cold was biting though he knew it was upper fifties at least, and his shoulder was aching in complaint.

Hell, he'd figured that was going to go away with the automail. Pity he'd let Irving get him like that.

"Sorn!" he called. There was no reason to sneak up on the kid. In fact, he was pretty sure driving up had announced him, but it wouldn't hurt to be civil. "You missed class! What gives?"

Just the rustling grass, so soft but so numerous that rat chimera could have been sneaking up on him and he'd have never heard it coming. Edward frowned, but decided there was nothing else for it, and he hopped onto the hood of the car, and from there to the roof.

It wasn't because he was short, he told himself. It was just to get a better look at the array.

A few moments' study found the first point, and from there he was able to calculate the others. Six points . . . so a traditional human transmutation circle. The same one the homunculi had been offering. Seeing as he had first-hand knowledge of Pride reaching out from the grave, was it possible . . .?

But when? He was in Liore, but it was long after the homunculus were gone. It wasn't in their notes . . . just like the chimera, he couldn't have come up with this himself.

He was pretty fucking smart, Ed allowed, hopping back onto the hood before reaching the ground. But he hadn't seen the Gate. He didn't have that leg up that he and Al had. Much more likely that he had help. After this was over, he was going to have to look up this Blane fellow. Al was more accepting and more gentle, so he was more likely to be fooled. Psiren was evidence of that.

Then again, Noah . . .

Ed growled to himself, and surveyed the landscape again. He hadn't seen a Franklin-shaped lump anywhere, but that didn't mean much. He'd be almost invisible in the grass himself, and he was taller. Besides, if he wasn't here now, he certainly would be when the army was due. Ed toyed with leaving the array as it was, but then tossed the idea. There was a chance, if he had to run back to town for supplies, that they'd miss each other in the passing.

Besides, there was grass. Grass meant he could transmute some bread if he had to.

He eyed the array another moment, memorizing it, then clapped his hands. He could always put it back, if he needed to make Franklin think no one was on to him. But this was the only perfect spot, it would be more likely that Franklin had already made an array that would carve this for him -

The ground erupted at his feet, and Edward got a glimpse of what looked like a giant rock bear-trap before his prepared transmutation hit it. The ground was the ground - instead of flattening the array it flattened the teeth only a few inches from closing around his waist.

Shit. It would have bitten him in half.

"You want to talk about this first?" he bellowed, preparing another transmutation. He didn't want to get into an alchemical battle here, nor with Franklin, particularly not if he had incomplete Stone. Talk was preferable. The kid was brilliant, and it would be far more constructive to punch holes in this theories than to punch holes in him.

"No time," a voice said, from behind his car, and Ed whirled to see Franklin Sorn there, watching him over the hood. "Besides, it's not like you're going to remember it."

- x -

Author's Notes: HAHAH!! I return, after a long hiatus, and I leave you . . . at the action without having any! Nor have I gotten JChrys her pressie yet:hides in the grass and waits for the velociraptors: But it's a long chapter? And you know that I actually can't put off the action any longer at this point. That should buy me some time.

JChrys! I haven't forgotten about you. Life happened, as it occasionally does. You should be getting your pressie tonight for review!