Envy screamed, throwing his head back as another wave of pain washed over his body. He choked, blood splashing into his mouth as he writhed on the table, the slick restraints cutting into his already tender flesh.

"Stop… stop it… stop!"

He screamed again, a thin blade travelling across his stomach in four smooth lines, forming the shape of a square. It went deep, his flesh splitting apart to reveal a mess of organs and muscles beneath.

"Take it all out. See if his Stone really can only heal the most severe injuries."

Envy arched his back, shrieking as a clawed hand sank into his gut, curling into a fist and tearing out the contents with a vengeance. His throat began to bleed, copper splashing over his lips as he wailed again, his jaw cracking from the strain.

"Go ahead and pull out the Stone while you're at it. Find out why it's visible."

"No… no, Mustang, don't—"

He never got the chance to finish, a crooked blade going in right beneath his nose, cutting through the bone and muscle like a hot knife through butter.

"Stop… stop… stop…"

"Hmm, what happens if we cut out his heart?"

"Stop… s-stop… stop!"

"Envy, you have to wake up."

"Stop it! Stop! Stop!"

"Envy!"

Both eyes opened wide, a blinding, white light searing into his pupils before giving way to black eyes and a furrowed brow. Envy arched again, chest heaving as another scream tore its way up his throat, fingers curling through fabric and pulling until it tore.

"Envy, let go of my shirt."

"Stop it, stop, st—!"

Envy jolted as he was shaken hard, his entire body flooded with a paralyzing mix of pain and fear. He struggled to process his surroundings, eyes shifting around the room as he tried to figure out what had changed, all the while trying so hard to stay still that he wound up shaking instead.

"It was a nightmare."

Flinching, Envy looked the other way, trying to find the bloody instruments that had been cutting into him just moments before.

"It was just a dream."

Envy looked down at himself, panting, moving his unrestrained hand to his stomach and pressing down on the clean, fresh bandages. There were no open cuts, no blood, no gaping hole with innards spilling out. He wasn't being cut to pieces on a laboratory table.

"Envy, you need to breathe."

Breathe. Mouth.

Still wheezing, Envy reached up to his mouth, pushing his fingers inside to make sure the Stone was still there. It was, and despite the pain that shot through his skull, he continued to press it, relishing the sensation of his core still within his body. It's there.

Envy choked down a whimper, the excruciating pain just barely worth the sense of safety it brought him. It's there. It's there. Everything was foggy, his mind still caught somewhere between dream and reality, but he knew his Philosopher's Stone was in his mouth. It's still there.

"What on Earth is the matter with you?" Mustang reached out and felt his forehead, frowning. "You're warm. Come on, get up."

Envy shuddered, fingers still pressed to the roof of his mouth, glassy eyes darting from one end of the room to the other. What? He could hear the words, and he understood what they meant, but his ability to apply them to the current situation was completely shot. Come on where? Get up why? What did his warmth have to do with anything?

Looking down, Envy watched as his other hand was released, immediately throwing it against his neck and clawing at the skin. He felt his t-shirt, but that wasn't what he was looking for. He was looking for the needles—the ones they had stabbed into his neck over and over again, the ones they had left there like IVs—trying desperately to remove them.

"There's nothing there." Mustang grabbed a wrist in each hand and gave his prisoner another shake. "Listen to me, Envy. There is nothing there. It was a dream, nothing more."

Envy threw his head forward, jaws parting as he approached the wrist of the man's left hand. His teeth almost came together, but his mind was still clear enough to recall what had happened the last couple of times he bit someone, and he recoiled as if the Mustang's skin had burned him.

"You would do this in the middle of the night when the lieutenant isn't here." Mustang heaved a sigh and pushed Envy's wrists down, pressing them to Envy's shoulders and placing his full weight on the stacked joints. "Lie still."

Envy whined through his teeth, going completely catatonic beneath Mustang's body. He gasped for air, watching through sweat-matted hair as the man stared down at him with a questioning look on his face.

"If I let you go, will you stay still?"

Envy nodded jerkily, wetting his lips.

Mustang continued to look down on him, brows arched and eyes shadowed with disbelief. He eased up on his weight, stopping every other second to ensure Envy was still behaving. He finally let go of the bruised wrists, and then he removed himself from the bed entirely, standing up and placing a hand on each hip.

Envy panted, cold and sweaty and sick to his stomach, but he didn't move.

"We're going to go downstairs, and then you're going to drink some water." Mustang grabbed the restraints on the homunculus' ankles and unbuckled them. "Sit up."

Envy struggled to do as he was told, pushing against the mattress and managing to get his upper body in a somewhat vertical position. Things were beginning to make more sense, the fog slowly clearing as his brain successfully separated dream from reality. Somewhat.

"Grab onto my neck, and I'll carry you."

Envy reached out half-blindly, latching on to Mustang and allowing himself to be lifted from the bed. He grunted, pulling his knees towards his chest instinctively.

"Don't cut me open," he whispered, tongue sluggish and eyelids heavy.

"No one is going to cut you open, Envy."

"Don't… don't cut me open… don't… I don't want you to." Envy shook, curling up tightly and pressing himself against Mustang's chest, his teeth chattering as a bone-chilling cold set in. "Don't cut me open."

Mustang sighed but said nothing.

I'm cold again. I'm cold… so cold… why is my body so cold? What's happening to me? What's wrong with my Philosopher's Stone? I don't understand… I don't understand… Don't hurt me, don't cut me open, don't take my Stone, don't take my Stone, don't take my—

"You're a mess, aren't you?" Mustang let out another sigh and lowered Envy onto the couch, immediately grabbing the blanket folded over the back and laying it down on top. "I said I won't cut you up, now be quiet. You're not helping anything."

Envy felt another shudder tear through his body, clarity coming in short, sporadic waves. For a moment, he thought he knew what was happening. For a moment, he was being held by someone warm, and he didn't feel the needles in his neck and the knives in his stomach. For a moment, he was alright, but then he was laying down and they were back.

"You're a liar," he hissed, curling tightly under the blanket and glaring at nothing. "You're a liar, you'll cut me up. You'll cut me to pieces for fun. You want revenge for that idiot's murder, and—"

"If you know what's good for you," Mustang spoke evenly and loudly, talking over him with a clear tone of threatening hatred, "you will shut your mouth this instant."

Envy clawed at his neck absentmindedly, trying to cover the sensation of pinpricks with the sting left by his fingernails. "…gonna cut me open… take everything out… cut me open and… take everything out…" he mumbled incoherently, words slurring together until they couldn't be distinguished from one another.

Mustang let out yet another sigh, his tone exuding the same exasperation he showed on his face. "This is going to be a long night."

Envy opened one eye, looking around the room as much as he could with his face smashed into a pillow. It was dark, but not so dark that he couldn't tell he wasn't in his room anymore. It was warm, too, and he was certain he could hear a fire crackling somewhere nearby.

"Hnn…"

"What do you have to tell me this time?"

Envy jumped despite himself, Mustang's voice sending his body into an automatic defense mode. Still, he tried to maintain at least some of his composure, turning his body enough to see the colonel sitting in a nearby chair with a book in his lap.

"Huh?" Envy didn't bother to lift his head.

"So far, I have been told not to cut you open, not to sacrifice you to Father, and not to eat you. I was just wondering what you were going to say this time around." Mustang glanced up from the text and gave him a little smirk. "Or are we feeling more coherent now?"

Envy groaned, grabbing onto the back of the couch and trying to pull himself up. "I don't… remember. What happened?"

Mustang shoved a bookmark between the pages and set the novel aside, standing up and stretching his arms. "You had a fever, but you didn't present any other signs of an illness." He flicked a piece of fuzz off his white t-shirt. "Your body is probably just overwhelmed with everything it's been through."

Probably. Envy managed to get himself upright, his head dropping down as exhaustion hit him full in the face. "How did I… why am I down here?"

"I brought you down because this is the only room in the house with a fireplace, and I wanted to be close to the kitchen." Mustang placed his hands on his hips and let out a sigh. "If you're not hallucinating anymore, however, it's time to get you back upstairs."

Envy pressed a hand to his forehead, screwing his eyes shut and struggling to focus his mind on any one thought. "I…" He looked down at himself, lifting his shirt and examining the gauze and tape. "So… the laboratory wasn't real."

Mustang nodded sharply, obsidian eyes as unsympathetic as ever. "It was a dream. I don't suppose you're going to willingly tell me what it was about."

Envy lowered his hand and met Mustang's gaze evenly, a thoughtful hum rising in his throat. "That depends. What did Havoc tell you?"

"I don't see how that's relevant." Mustang stopped himself from going any further, a sort of understanding ghosting across his features. "He told me you don't know why your Philosopher's Stone is dislodged, for lack of a better word."

Envy snorted, turning his eyes towards the far wall and contemplating how he wanted to proceed. He could tell Mustang all the details, or he could tell him some, or he could tell him nothing. If he told Mustang, he would get points for honesty and whatever Mustang called usefulness. If he didn't, it would ensure the man couldn't use the knowledge against him in the future. Of course, Envy had never been very easily manipulated by emotions, so did it matter whether or not Mustang knew? On the other hand, he had been more susceptible to… displays of weakness… as of late, and there was no telling how he would react to an emotional attack until he was in the moment. On the other hand—

"Mustang, do you have limits?"

Mustang arched a brow. "Excuse me?"

"Do you have limits? Are there certain things you just wouldn't do to a person, even if that person was me?" Envy didn't make eye contact when he spoke, a familiar mantra pounding on the inside of his head even as he waited for Mustang's reply.

Don't look down on me, you worm. Don't look down on me.

"I don't have time for hypothetical questions." Mustang folded his arms over his chest, tapping his index finger impatiently. "Stop beating around the bush and just ask me."

Envy cast him a brief glare but quickly looked away again. "Would you experiment on me to find out more about my Philosopher's Stone? Cut me up, stick me with needles, and try to tear it out of my mouth?" He looked up then, glaring daggers at the man standing over him. "Well, would you?"

Mustang seemed somewhat surprised by the question, but he recovered quickly and gave Envy a contemplative look. "That depends. If I could get something out of it, I might." He frowned slightly, still thoughtful. "But you've been fairly talkative with the interrogation team, so I don't see a reason to take it further and experiment on you. Now," he held up a finger, "if I find out or suspect the information you're giving is false, that might change things."

Envy glanced away again, mulling over the answer he had received before offering his rebuttal. "I was created through science experiments. I've been cut up more times than I can count. Why would you, of all people, choose to keep me in one piece?"

Mustang arched a brow. "I just told you I might not." He put his hand back on his bicep and started tapping again. "I don't like the idea of causing unnecessary suffering. If your suffering has a reason—information, punishment, keeping you weakened for the safety of others—then it's fine. I—"

"Isn't revenge a reason?" Envy clenched his fists, not entirely sure why he was encouraging Mustang to dissect him but, at the same time, not being able to stop himself. "Isn't knowing the amount of evil I've done in my past a reason?"

"What about the evil I've done in my past?" Mustang wore an expectant expression, like he was waiting for Envy to have some kind of revelation. "What about my actions in Ishval? Don't they warrant revenge and punishment and torture?"

Envy answered a question with a question. "So, why are you helping me?" He spread his arms, the stitches in his skin reminding him of the interrogation he had endured. "Why are you giving me breaks in between questioning? Why are you giving me a kind of pain I can control the severity of?" He started to get louder, heart pounding in his chest. "Why did you ask about my family?" Distrust and confusion battled for control, leaving him in a vulnerable state he loathed. "Why are you bringing me down here and lighting a fire because I had a few bad dreams?"

Mustang didn't say anything right away. He stared at Envy for a long moment, and then he dropped his arms. His eyes weren't as cold as usual, but the pity that had replaced it was almost worse.

Don't look down on me, human!

"Mercy."

Envy stopped, slowly lowering his arms, confusion taking the dominant position on his face as he waited for some kind of elaboration.

"You don't get it. It's not in you. It's a human concept." Mustang chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You don't understand that sometimes, for no good reason, you're shown mercy. Monsters like me, even after everything we've done, get to have a happy ending. Sometimes you get a second chance. Sometimes you get a third or fourth chance." He shrugged. "It isn't always the same. But it's there, and it's real."

Envy grit his teeth, still tremendously confused but recognizing the idea as offensive. "I don't need your mercy, Mustang."

Mustang laughed out loud. "Yes, actually. You do." He grinned, no doubt enjoying the predicament his prisoner was in. "If you didn't have my mercy—if you got everything you deserved—you would have broken a long time ago, assuming you'd even be alive still."

Stammering, Envy tried to think of a good comeback, but he couldn't deny the truth in Mustang's words. His moments of relief might have seemed miniscule when compared to the amount of pain he had been put through, but they were there nonetheless, and he needed them. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed them.

"There's also empathy." Mustang slipped his hands into the pockets of his lounge pants. "It's another human notion you don't understand." He shrugged again. "I can look at you and realize what I would want and need if I were in your position, regardless of what is deserved. I can then take that realization and either ignore it or apply it."

Envy opened his mouth, but nothing came to his tongue, and he found himself wanting to look away from Mustang's eyes. He didn't—he couldn't back down when the colonel was blatantly mocking him—but he wanted to. He lifted his hands slightly, curling his fingers as if he were gripping the air in front of him, and he spat out the first response he could come up with.

"It doesn't make sense." Breathing hard, he tried to figure out what kind of game Mustang was playing. "Mercy and empathy. They're pointless. They're stupid, inconvenient, useless emotions that humans have, and as much as I hate you, I know you're better than that."

Mustang didn't seem perturbed. "You don't have to believe it. You don't even have to like it. But I will show it, and it won't be based on any kind of merit." He smirked. "I don't need your appreciation or agreement to continue displaying those pointless, stupid, inconvenient, useless concepts however I see fit."

You're a liar! He almost screamed, gritting his teeth and glaring up at Mustang with all the hatred he could muster. You have to have some ulterior motive for treating me like this. You have to. Growling, he lowered his head and uttered a quiet, "Let's just go back to bed."

"That's an excellent idea." Mustang stepped out of the way and indicated the staircase that was across from the fireplace.

Envy watched him for a moment, and then he slowly stood up and started to walk, immediately sinking into his thoughts. He's just trying to confuse me. Something that, if he was honest, was working. There's no mercy for monsters like me. Not from people like Mustang. Not ever. So, what game was the colonel playing? And how could Envy win?

"If you promise not to do anything ridiculous, I'll leave you untied."

Blinking, Envy pulled himself out of his thoughts and realized he had entered his completely dark bedroom. He didn't look over his shoulder at Mustang, keeping his eyes set dead ahead.

"Sure. I'll promise."

"Good. I'll still be locking you in, but maybe you can get some more restful sleep this way."

Envy didn't respond, staring into the darkness until he heard the door close behind him. Instantly, he tumbled back down into his thoughts, and that time around, he was confronted with a different realization.

I'm pathetic. It hadn't occurred to his sleep-clouded mind, and in the argument that followed, there had only been a desperate scramble for responses. I had nightmares so bad the colonel took me downstairs. I can't even get a good night's sleep without falling to pieces. More than that, he could see Mustang's efforts getting inside his head. I willingly told Havoc about my Philosopher's Stone. I sat on a couch all day and read a book. I promised not to do anything worthy of being restrained. It was contorting him, and he was letting it, and as much as he knew he wasn't supposed to, he wanted to keep giving into it. It's disgusting.

Envy slid his feet against the carpet, taking half-conscious steps through the dark to where he knew his bed was. He threw himself facedown on the mattress, and the jolting motion sent slivers of pain through him, but he still savored the sensation of being on his stomach for a change.

It's disgusting. It's disgusting. It's so disgusting.

He buried his face in his pillow, wondering what his siblings would think if they could see him now. If they knew how vulnerable he was, and how weak, and how compliant. He wondered if there would be any mercy from them.

I'm disgusting.

"How am I supposed to know what size I wear? It's not like I've ever gone shopping before. My clothing always came back when my body healed." Envy blew his hair out of his eyes, leaning against the nearby clothing rack. "I'm tired. I wanna go back to the house and sleep some more."

Mustang didn't seem that interested in Envy's perspective, and he pulled out another shirt and began looking it over. "If you would help me, we could be done already."

Envy groaned. "Why are we even doing this?"

"Because all the clothing I had for you is bloodstained or damaged beyond repair, and you can't keep walking around in those disgusting hospital scrubs." Mustang shoved the shirt into Envy's arms. "Now, go try this on and see if it fits."

Grumbling, Envy looked over the black, long-sleeved shirt and replied, "It fits."

Mustang stared at him for a moment and then shrugged his shoulders. "Don't complain if you get home and find it doesn't."

"I won't." Envy let out a quiet sigh and started to look at the clothes on the rack. "For pants, I just need something loose with a drawstring."

"For someone so vain, you certainly don't seem interested in what you wear." Mustang pulled out a pair of pants that fit the description and handed them over.

It was Envy's turn to shrug as he took the article and held it up to his waist. "It doesn't really matter what I wear when my face is torn to pieces," he muttered, his tone colored with no small amount of bitterness.

Mustang crossed his arms over his chest. "Fair enough. Get what you need, and then we can go back to the house."

Envy nodded, grabbing two more pairs of pants and two more shirts exactly like the ones in his hands. "This is all I need. Let's go."

Mustang arched a brow but said nothing, taking the clothes from Envy's arms and walking over to the register. Envy stayed where he was and watched from a distance, somewhat curious, as Mustang spread the items on the counter and began to make small talk with the clerk.

"Can you believe the nerve of that guy?"

Envy stiffened, all thoughts of Mustang gone, violet eyes widening at the familiar voice.

"Honestly. I can't stand overconfident men."

Turning to face the store entrance, Envy started to walk towards the source of the noise, a little bit of that oh-so-human hope starting to swell in the pit of his stomach.

It's impossible. She was incinerated into nothing. Wrath saw it with his own eyes.

But that thought didn't stop him from creeping out through the open door and onto the street, his head turning slowly as he sought the owner of the voice.

"That's why I quit working at the bar, you know."

It sounded like her, and the words were definitely something she would say. It sounded like she was talking to another woman, which wasn't her usual way of gathering information, but it was possible she was simply trying to fit in now that Father was gone.

But she's dead. Mustang killed her. There was nothing left.

"Natalia said it's gotten worse since you left."

"Did she? I'm not surprised."

Maybe Wrath lied. Maybe she was melted down like Greed so she could be reborn. Fire could do that, couldn't it? It's not like Wrath was all that trustworthy.

Envy rounded the corner and came to a sudden stop, all thoughts of his sister miraculously surviving shattering when he saw a head full of dark brown waves. Lust had black hair—hair she had always been quite proud of, hair she would never color unless she absolutely had to—and she was a few inches taller than the woman who was speaking.

She turned to dust. I knew that. I don't know why I thought…

"Are you alright?"

Envy blinked, caught off-guard by the question, and it took him a few seconds to realize it was directed at him. "Fine. Lost in thought, that's all."

"I'm sure." She gave him a wry smile, clearly not believing his story, and folded her arms beneath her cleavage. "Why are you in hospital scrubs?"

"Because I was in the hospital," he replied dryly.

"Cute." Smirking, she looked him over and pressed again. "You followed us out of the store, and you were staring at me. Why?"

Envy scanned her from top to bottom and then back up again, considering her words and giving her a smirk of his own. "Keep teaching those pigs at the bar who's in charge, sexy." Then, without waiting for an answer or a slap in the face, he turned on his heel and left the lookalike behind.

Still, he was unable to get the image of her out of his head.

"What's wrong with you? How could you let him go after what he did?"

Her movements, her voice, her smirk, her eyes, her figure…

"You should have yanked his spine out of his mouth!"

…her clothes, her confidence, her sharp wit…

"It's not too late to kill him, so get to it!"

…even her breasts reminded him of Lust.

Envy clenched his fists at his sides, cursing his own sentimentality as he worked his way through the crowd, going no particular direction at all.

When he killed Lust, I remember being angry, but all I feel now is pain. I don't understand, but it hurts. It hurts to think about her, to remember her. He stopped then, leaning against a nearby building and scowling at the cobblestone beneath his feet. What if I think about the others? Gluttony… Greed… Wrath… Pride… Sloth…

His hand wandered to his chest, a foreign and painful ache forming there. Envy didn't care about Wrath—honestly, Fuhrer Bradley was no more a homunculus than he was a human—and Envy didn't care about Sloth, if only because Sloth was never around or awake long enough to talk to. But Gluttony and Lust… Greed, back before he rebelled against Father and went his own way… even Pride, on those rare days when he would choose to be just as full of his family as he was full of himself.

They were different. He missed them.

Why does it hurt? I don't understand.

Envy's train of thought was abruptly derailed, the ground shaking beneath his feet as an explosion rang out from somewhere behind him. He whirled around to see a plume of smoke and fire bursting skyward, and after giving his next step a moment of consideration, he took off in the direction of the destruction, moving as fast as his injuries would allow.

After all, he never was able to resist the sight of screaming humans, running in terror as confusion overwhelmed their tiny little brains and turned them into stampeding cattle.

Weaving in and out between the slack-jawed gawkers and the bystanders paralyzed with fear and shock, Envy arrived at the scene. It took him all of two seconds to figure out what had happened, and once he had, it was all he could do not to laugh out loud.

It was a restaurant of some sort, and if the position of the sun was any indication, it was lunchtime. Clearly, the bomber had been going for a high body count, and the humans had been kind enough to gather in one place at a predictable hour like dogs in a pound at feeding time. Just like every single war Envy had ever tricked the humans into starting, they just made it so easy.

Envy felt a hand close around his arm like a vice, the urge to laugh dissipating almost instantly as he realized what he had just done. He had disappeared from the clothing store without telling Mustang, and then he appeared seconds after a bomb went off, grinning like a maniac and trying not to laugh. There was hardly a good way to spin that.

"Envy, did you do this?"

Swallowing discreetly, he turned and looked up at the fuming alchemist, a wry grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. "What do you think, Mustang?"

"I think I am giving you one chance to answer me truthfully," Mustang shot back, tightening his hold and giving Envy a shake. "Did you do this?"

Envy stared up at the man, contemplating his answer. If he said yes, it would be a lie, but it would be a lie Mustang would be more than willing to believe. If he said no, he would most likely be accused of lying, and whatever punishment Mustang already had in store would be amplified to reflect that infraction.

"Humans. You make it too easy."

If there was a word in any one of the many, many languages in existence to describe the abject rage that went into Mustang's eyes at that moment, Envy didn't know it. Then again, finding the right word to describe how much pain he was in for wasn't exactly at the top of his to-do list.

"Don't lump all humans together in one group and make such broad assumptions. Because I assure you, Envy, when I am through with you, 'easy' isn't going to be the word you have in mind."

Survival. Survival was the only priority he had time for, and the look in the colonel's eyes made it very clear that it would not be an easy goal to achieve. But despite the fact that Envy embodied jealousy, he was almost as prideful as his oldest brother, and he refused to let Mustang see his fear.

"Make my day, Mustang."

Envy took a breath and let it out as discreetly as possible, trying to keep himself calm and prepare himself for what was coming. He could feel the handcuffs keeping his wrists fastened to the metal chair he was sitting on, and he could feel the chains keeping his ankles bound to the legs. It was all metal, and he was pretty sure he knew why, and as much as he wanted to hang onto his pride, he was terrified.

You chose this. You lied to obtain the best possible outcome.

Envy took another breath and watched Mustang walk up to Lieutenant Hawkeye, retrieving a pair of white gloves. Tilting his head back, he looked up at the ceiling to the large warehouse, figuring the open space served the same purpose as the metal.

He's going to burn me.

It sent a shiver down his spine, but he forced it away and tried to focus on survival. Mustang was angry—furious, really—and Envy knew it was going to be bad, but he had survived a lot in his rather lengthy lifespan. He could survive this. He just had to keep his head on straight.

Snap.

Envy screwed his eyes shut and swallowed a scream, the heat immediately suffocating him. His bandages turned to ash, and his skin started to peel, flames searing the open air and exposing his muscles. He couldn't make out the sound of another snap, but the fire came again, and he felt his Stone start to heal some of the damage being inflicted.

It's familiar.

It was just like the Promised Day, when Envy had revealed himself as Hughes' killer. It was the same kind of fire he had been running from until he got far enough away from Mustang that he could shapeshift into a rat and hide in the darkness of the corridors. He had been panicked and terrified at the time, doing anything he could to get away. It had been very similar when Mustang captured him a month later. This time was no different.

Envy screamed, throwing his head back, feeling the skin on his face begin to slide off, muscle and bone exposed to the air as he shrieked. He was sure the chair he was on was red hot, but he couldn't feel it under the constant assault of heat and fire and death. His blood started to boil, igniting a flame deep in his veins where the alchemy itself couldn't reach.

Lust! Greed! Help me!

If his eyes hadn't been burning, there would have been tears in them, and the more he exerted his lungs, the more his broken ribs and bruised torso reminded him that fire was not his only adversary. His bandages and stitches were long gone, and the wounded flesh they had treated was replaced as the Stone healed the life-threatening burns. But then they burned again, excruciating, hot, piercing, dying.

Help me! Father, help me!

It came again and again, and his screams began to fade, replaced by rasping, wheezing sounds that couldn't be heard over the inferno. He dropped his head, chin to his chest, unable to keep himself upright. It was like he was supposed to be tense and reactive to the pain, but his body just went limp in the chair, racked by dry sobs and unable to do anything but sit and wait for the next flame to strike.

I can't do this.

But what could he say? What could he do? He knew Mustang would never believe he was innocent, and there was no way Envy could escape in the state he was in, so what else was there?

"Mercy."

No. Mustang had been lying, and Envy knew that, and he knew there was no point in asking for mercy. Mustang had been ruthless, using him for endless transmutations and then handing him over to be interrogated. He hated Envy. He loathed him. And there was no chance he would stop just because Envy wanted him to.

But I can't do this.

Envy opened his mouth, struggling to form words with his seared lips and tongue, and he couldn't get much volume. "Mustang." Heat came again, blistering his skin until the dermis just melted off. "M-Mustang." He tried to lift his head, taking a breath that only managed to burn his lungs. "Mustang!"

For a fraction of a second, there was a pause, but then the fire returned.

"Stop!" Envy coughed, blood splashing over whatever was left of his mouth. "Stop!"

Once again, there was a pause, but it was quickly followed by flames.

Envy tried to open his eyes, but when the darkness persisted, he realized his eyes must have been burned out of their sockets. Gasping, he tried one more time to achieve the extremely evasive act of mercy.

"Mustang!"

It stopped. For a second, there was nothing, and Envy had to wonder if his ears had been burned so badly that he was deaf. But then he heard footsteps. They were muffled by the damage done, but they were there, and the next thing he knew, his hair was being tangled in an unforgiving grip.

"What?"

Envy still couldn't see, his eyes slowly being restructured by his Stone, but he managed to form an incoherent, "Stop," that had a drawn-out S and an almost imperceptible P.

"Seven people are dead, and who knows how many more have been injured." Mustang's words gradually grew clearer, a sure sign Envy's eardrums were healing. "You expect this to stop anytime soon?"

"I—I—" He wheezed, trying to pull air into his lungs and failing miserably. "I'll—I'll say… I'm sorry." He remembered what Mustang had told him that night about why he did and didn't punish. He had said something about repentance, so there was a chance it would mean something. "I'll… say I'm sorry… Is that—" He heaved, stomach contracting with whatever muscles were left. "Is that… what you want?"

"What I want is for those seven people to be alive again."

Envy choked out a sob, his eyes still too damaged to form tears. His throat tightened, feeling like a branding iron was pressed against the walls. Dragging down a breath, he tried again, pulling out something he had managed to avoid using up to that point.

"Please."

He hadn't said it once. Not for the entire time Mustang had him. Not during the transmutations, not during the interrogation, not during anything. He couldn't remember much about the nightmare incident, but that was the only time Mustang could have heard a please come from his captive's lips.

"Please." He felt the cartilage of his nose begin to reform. "Stop."

Mustang said nothing. He didn't let go of Envy's hair, and he didn't do anything to ease the pain Envy was in, but he also didn't bury him in fire again.

"Please."

Seconds passed, and then Envy just barely felt Mustang release his hair. Twenty seconds later, the cuffs on his wrists came loose. Thirty seconds more, and the chains around his ankles came undone. He couldn't help himself. He tried to move—to get away—and he all but melted out of the chair, collapsing into a heap on the ground with a heavy exhale in lieu of a pained noise.

Nothing touched him. His Stone continued to heal the more serious injuries, and he lay there on the ground. For the second time in a month, he was unable to do anything but think and breathe. He couldn't move. He couldn't cry. He couldn't speak.

"We need to get him to a hospital."

Envy started to see some colors, though they were blurred beyond all recognition. He felt someone touch his shoulder, the skin peeling away under their fingertips, and he uttered another plea under his breath.

"Stop."

"I stopped." Mustang moved somewhere nearby, his boots scraping against the concrete. "We're going to need some help."

Envy watched as the blue of the uniform and the browns and grays of the warehouse began to grow sharper. Was it Mustang kneeling in front of him? Or was Mustang behind?

"Maybe we should have the help come to us." That sounded like Hawkeye.

"I think you're right." That was Mustang.

Envy felt his eyelids grow back, and he quickly closed them, not wanting to look at either soldier. He didn't want to make eye contact, though he couldn't tell if it was due to a fractured remnant of his pride or sheer terror.

I could have avoided all of this if I had just stayed put. He inhaled. Emotions are so pointless. He exhaled. Even if it had been Lust, what would I have done? He inhaled. We were accomplices in the biggest crime in history; nothing more and nothing less. He exhaled. Did I think she would be happy to see me?

But none of that mattered because Lust was dead. Six of the Seven Deadly Sins were dead, along with the father who created them all. Envy was the only one left, and he had known that for quite some time, so there was no point in speculating about what might have happened if the stranger in the marketplace had turned out to be one of his siblings.

It's just me. I knew that. He had been there when Father killed Greed on the Promised Day, and then Father had grabbed onto him and sucked out most of his Philosopher's Stone. Envy had barely managed to break contact, and with everyone distracted by the task of beating Father, Envy bolted. But still, he knew Father must have lost the fight. So, he was dead, and Envy was the last one. I should be proud. I out-lived them all, even my own creator. I was the strongest. So, it's just me now.

Envy dragged air down through his clenched teeth and into his lungs, a strangled cry escaping him as tears of a different sort began to burn the backs of his eyes. His shoulders shook, his pain no longer the sole trigger of the spasms, and as his chest started to ache, he realized the only reason he hadn't started crying yet was because he was holding his breath.

I just inhaled a few seconds ago. I don't need to breathe. I don't need to.

But his lungs disagreed, the ache quickly escalating into a burn and then into a stabbing throb. He could feel the distinctly different kind of pain getting worse, and before he realized what was happening, he was expelling a chestful of carbon dioxide along with an anguished sob.

Like putting a tiny hole in the wall of a massive dam, the pressure that had built up over time used that one, broken sob as an opening to tear down the whole thing and come rushing out all at once. It was like the first night after his capture, tied down and terrified of what they would put him through next, he had sobbed and silently pleaded for mercy. When he was in his right mind, he looked back on the memory with disdain and self-loathing, but he had once again been removed from his right mind, and all he could process in that moment was that he was alone.

He was alone, he would always be alone, and no one was going to come save him. He was the last of his species, the last of his family, and the last person on the planet who had lived long enough to remember a time before Amestris. He was ancient, he was abandoned, he was unwanted, he was despised, and he was completely, utterly alone.

"Easy. You're going to hurt yourself further." Mustang put a hand on Envy's head, not grasping his hair the way he had the last time. "It's over for now, so stop crying."

Envy jerked his head, trying to relay that he wasn't crying over his punishment. I'm alone. He tried to curl up, his legs slowly moving up toward his chest and scraping painfully against the cement floor. I'm completely alone. He reached for his skull haphazardly, trying to find Mustang's hand and put his own on top of it. I'm alone.

"What are you trying to do?" But Mustang didn't move his hand, so Envy placed his overtop and relished the sensation of contact with another living creature. "Calm down already." He rotated his hand, grabbing onto Envy's and gripping it tightly. "There. I've got your hand. Now, stop crying."

Envy held on tight, and even though his mantra continued—I'm alone, I'm alone, I'm alone—he felt marginal relief. Grasping at the hand, his cries started to reduce, the contact giving him just enough to hold onto that he could calm down.

"Sorry…" Envy whispered, apologizing for a crime he didn't commit. "I'm…"

"Yes, I think I got that." Mustang didn't comment on whether or not the apology was going to do anything to reduce the consequences.

Still, Mustang had stopped, and as much as Envy's brain told him there were ulterior motives, a smaller part of him believed he was experiencing the mercy Mustang had described. Mercy that had no good reason behind it, no discernable motivation, no distribution based on merit.

Envy inhaled softly. "I want… to go home…"

"I know. You'll be going to the hospital first, though."

You don't know. Because as much as he wanted to fall in bed and sleep away his problems, he wasn't talking about Mustang's house. I want to go home. He wasn't really talking about a physical place at all. I want to go home. He just wanted to feel a sense of belonging and safety and the kind of content that wasn't natural for jealousy at all. I want my brothers and my sister. I want Father. I want to go home.

And here he thought he had stopped crying.

Author's Note: If you like my writing style, you should check out my website! I post updates about the different things I'm working on, including fanfiction and original works. does not allow links in profiles or stories, but if you message me, I can tell you how to get there. Or you can go to my other fanfiction pages, like AO3 and Wattpad, and follow the link from there! I hope to see you on the site!