Everything is a negotiation.

Everything is a little bit of

give and take.

– Laaman Rucker

Up in Smoke

It was a good place.

A kind place – a rough place. Mountains carved with winding streams, carpeted in green and crawling with monsters. Stone steps worn smooth by many feet, stretching toward the gatehouse and, beyond that, paradise. The swept veranda, corridors he could run through blindfolded. Rice paper doors leading to well-kept grounds, grass the old hag made him cut every week. The same song-and-dance, strikes he knew by heart but still could never avoid completely.

Then again, that's why she called him dimwit.

She taught him everything she knew, or tried to, at least: techniques, strategy, discipline, though he never quite got the last two. More than anything, she taught him that he wasn't completely useless. He remembered every hard-earned victory, her smirk when he'd curse and scream:

How fragile she looked dying in his arms.

He never forgot that pain, even when Koenma brought her back. He never wanted to lose anyone ever again. The world could burn, he could croak and it wouldn't matter. He'd died twice already, what was once more? Keiko, Genkai, Botan and the others, they were everything.

Nothing else really mattered.

Nausea, stale cigarettes and shaving cream; alcohol and not the good kind, either. Sounds both far away and near, all filtered underwater: a million birds singing off-key, shuffling steps and an annoying squeak. Muffled voices, voices he couldn't quite place–

Voices he nearly knew.

"He's coming to!"

"Sir, can you hear me?"

"If you understand what I'm saying, move your pinkie finger."

"Lay off, would ya, Grandma?" Yusuke mumbled, twisting his head to the side, nose wrinkling. His head hurt; it tasted like he'd licked the bottom of a trash can or, worse, kissed Kuwabara. Fingers prodded his foot and he gave a half-hearted kick, tongue thick with cotton. "Lemme sleep."

She knew how bad his hangovers were – she'd drank him under the table too many times to count. A little more, a bit more sleep and he'd do whatever she wanted. Not like the temple was going anywhere–

Then the metal spires bloomed.

And he realized it was the wrong kind of alcohol.

Yusuke shot up only to stop short, wrists secured with metal bands. Faces materialized, white uniforms which seemed to only exist in restaurants and hospitals and he didn't smell any food. The blue he'd come to hate appeared as well, a blonde man with a cigarette in his mouth standing entirely too close. Straightening on the bed tightened the handcuffs but he didn't care, baring his teeth as he glared at the soldier.

"Who the heck are you?"

"Sorry to keep you waiting."

Havoc eased into the makeshift interrogation room, face cloaked in careful calm. With the doctor's warning ringing in his ears, he checked his body language: shoulders loose, stride slow and uncaring; hands far from his belt, the shining metal fastened at one hip. The last thing he wanted was to spook the kid:

Yusuke Urameshi knew how to throw a punch.

The boy in question sat with his knee pulled to his chest, stocked wrists resting awkwardly atop the table. Glare fixed on the wooden restraints, he refused to look at Havoc, even though he'd surely heard the officer come in. A silent silhouette–

A completely different kid from the one he met an hour ago.

"I see you've calmed down." Havoc slipped into the chair opposite him, physically barring the only exit. "You ready to talk?"

The kid finally raised his head, rich mahogany simmering with rage. A knowing look, one that knew how cruel the world could be and persevered in spite of it. A peculiar savagery forged from thistles and iron–

The same look as Edward Elric.

Urameshi remained silent, unimpressed with the Lieutenant's uniform and smile. Though his leg hid much of the bared torso, Havoc still saw the scars crossing both chest and arms, the calloused knuckles, all pointing to a life spent fighting.

That much tracked, at least. Just getting the boy dressed had been a struggle.

Shortly after Urameshi awoke, the medical staff proceeded with a physical examination, which he fought tooth and nail. Truth be told, Havoc was impressed with the boy's mouth – he'd learned more colorful idioms in five minutes than he had since joining the military. When the time came to replace the handcuffs for stocks – a necessary precaution for alchemists – Urameshi grew still and Havoc thought for a moment that he'd tired himself out.

At least, until the kid broke a nurse's nose.

Her blood was still on his fist, crusted smear a testament of his crime. Even after using sedatives, it took Havoc and the entire medical team to keep Urameshi confined to the room, all while the boy punched and kicked and screamed names now burned into the Lieutenant's mind: Kuwabara, Kurama, Hiei–

And Keiko; Keiko more than the other three combined.

"Normally I'd ask for your name but since we already have that, I'll give you mine." Havoc checked the urge to extend his hand for a shake and crossed his arms instead, lips creasing. "2nd Lieutenant Jean Havoc, pleased to meet you."

Still, Urameshi remained silent, his glare absolute. Havoc watched the hospital gown's hem inch closer to the drawn knee, secured to the kid's waist by a sloppy knot. The makeshift kilt was the only compromise they could wrest from him – Urameshi would have been fine conducting this interview naked. The only reason he conceded was because he could tie the sleeves himself, even while bound in stocks:

He refused their help with anything.

"Mind if I ask you a few questions?"

The hem rose higher still and Urameshi tucked his chin, bangs nearly hiding his eyes. Havoc forced himself to hold the kid's gaze, conscious of those clenched fists, the surprise trying to peek beneath the gown. Urameshi was trying to distract him, betting on common decency and the unspoken code between men.

It wouldn't work. "We can do this the hard way if you want. I won't let you off easy just because you're a kid."

Still, he stared, knee bouncing a slow, steady rhythm.

"Alright, let's start with something easy." Havoc bit his cheek, reaching into his breast pocket. He didn't realize he pulled out his cigarettes with the notepad until both rested in his hand, ready for use. Setting the paper box aside, he gripped the pencil, tongue curling in his mouth. How long had it been since he'd had a smoke? The one from the kid's room was old, a stub meant to satisfy until he was off duty. The hospital didn't allow smoking inside the facility and he'd been here since–

Only then he realized Urameshi was no longer looking at him.

No, the kid was enchanted by the cigarettes, some off-brand anyone could buy anywhere. Havoc watched his eyes widen, tongue peeking out to touch his upper lip, knee gaining momentum. Urameshi uncurled his fists only to remember his hands were useless, fingers arching like spider legs as his stomach growled on-cue.

"Look, we gotta do this one way or the other, right?" He croaked, meeting Havoc's gaze without malice. "Get me a smoke and some food, and I'll tell you anything you want to know."

Thus how, twenty minutes later, he was serving lunch to a suspect he still knew nothing about.

A short 'thanks' and Urameshi dug in, barely waiting for him to set the tray down. He ate like a rabid dog, back curved, mouth traveling from one pile of food to the next, not even bothering to use his hands. Not that he could with the restraints; he seemed perfectly fine with leaving them in his lap. Every so often he would surface for some reason or another: a breath of air, a drink of water, or to cool his burning mouth. He handled the awkward task of drinking surprisingly well, expert twists of the wrist and neck, as if dining while bound was a lost art only he knew.

His gusto surprised Havoc. After all, this wasn't gourmet cuisine by any means – normal hospital fare, meat and vegetables soft as fresh bread and nearly colorless – yet Urameshi devoured every morsel, even licking the tray clean. Only when he'd finished the meal did he lean back with a satisfied sigh, uncaring of the leftovers clinging to his face. Equally amazed and disgusted, the Lieutenant offered his handkerchief, though the meaning appeared temporarily lost on the boy.

"Thanks." He repeated, cleaning up as best he could, slapping his face with the tail of the cloth.

"No problem."

Only after he tossed the handkerchief between them did Havoc tap out a cigarette, rolling it across the table. He took his time digging a borrowed ashtray from his pocket, watching the boy from the corner of his eye. Urameshi quickly realized grabbing the cigarette with his hand was impossible so he resorted to his feet, repositioning himself in the chair, leg poised with a dancer's grace. Dirty sole arched, he shifted his weight just so, big toe moving in a pincer motion while the second remained stationary, all in hopes of nabbing the smoke. Scooting the cigarette closer was an easy enough task, though grasping it between straining toes proved to be much harder. Tongue pressed to his cheek, Urameshi fought physics for the better part of five minutes, muttering insults ranging from 'stupid' to words Havoc couldn't repeat to himself in good conscience. He recorded all of it, though the kid didn't glance his way once:

He was too focused on his reward.

Once Urameshi finally grasped the thing with his toes, he wasted no time transferring it to his mouth. Abdomen tight, he widened his hips and brought his foot down with a flexibility Havoc had never seen outside of ballets, lips reaching until they clamped around the now soiled smoke.

Urameshi didn't settle back down after obtaining his prize. Foot flat on the table, he leaned forward as far as the restraints allowed, cigarette wagging. Even with the hint, it took Havoc a moment to realize what he wanted.

"Oh." A mumbled apology and he pulled out his match box, dragging a stick across the striker. Urameshi inhaled deeply before leaning back, eyes closed. Havoc recognized the sheer bliss on his face, the relief of a smoker who'd gone without for far too long. Normally, he would refuse to give cigarettes to a minor but could make an exception this one time:

Most minors couldn't take out half a mountain alone, either.

"Man, that's good!" Another drag, ashes forming as smoke streamed from flared nostrils. "You know how long it's been since I had one of these?"

"No, tell me." Havoc dared not show his surprise at the kid's willing banter, lighting a cigarette for himself. If something as simple as a smoke could get Urameshi to talk, he'd give the kid all he wanted.

The Colonel could chew him out later.

"Three months." The Lieutenant raised his eyebrows, an appropriate reaction and one the kid was looking for. "Yeah. I've been smoking since I was a kid and she expects me to quit cold turkey, just like that!" Urameshi snapped his fingers for emphasis, raising his bound hands to flick away ashes, chin resting on the stocks. "Can you believe that crap?"

"I feel ya; tried quitting once and didn't last a week. You're a better man than me." Havoc didn't comment on the kid not using the ashtray; given the situation, that was unrealistic. Tapping his cigarette, he watched the ashes fall into the glass bowl, careful to keep his tone nonchalant. "So who cracked the whip, your girl?"

"Yeah, who else?" The answer came easily, an automatic response. Poor guy was on autopilot, lost to tobacco. "Everyone thinks she's harmless but don't let her fool you: Keiko's got a mean left hook! One time, she–"

Suddenly he stopped, choking; realizing his mistake. Havoc watched as Urameshi's eyes widened before narrowing to slits, all mirth fleeing. Somehow, his glare seemed more savage than from before, nose wrinkled, smoke spewing between clenched teeth. "You son of a–"

"Hey, no need for all that. We're just having a smoke, right?" Havoc took a drag but the kid didn't acknowledge the cigarette in his own hand. "So, Keiko, huh? What's she like?"

His face hardened, eyes roiling with malice.

"Aw, come on. Why don't you tell me about her?"

Urameshi opened his mouth but then thought better of it, taking a deep drag. He held the smoke for a time – far longer than Havoc expected – before exhaling, gaze adopting a peculiar, lofty air. "Don't wanna."

The Lieutenant sighed, silently cursing the lost opportunity. "Look kid, you've got to give me something to work with–"

"I don't have to do tell you jack."

He had him there. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Which is it going to be?"

"Suck my dick!"

Havoc allowed this to continue for a time before snubbing his cigarette, settling back in his chair. "You know, one of your buddies isn't doing so good."

Urameshi froze, complacent mask slipping.

"We didn't think he'd make it through the first night, honestly; nearly lost him twice during transport then again during surgery. Guy's tough, but–"

He let the statement hang, allowing the kid to draw his own conclusions. Fury rose only to be strangled by horror, both vying for control. "Let him go."

The demand was so low Havoc thought he misheard. "Come again?"

Urameshi aimed the half-used cigarette at him, a scowl twisting his mouth. "I said: Let. Him. Go. Kurama doesn't have anything to do with this!"

Havoc raised a brow, making a quick note. "Kurama?"

"Don't screw with me!" Urameshi slammed the stocks on the table as he rose, chair falling behind him. Havoc rose just before the door burst open, an armed soldier rushing in.

"Take it easy," Havoc soothed, conscious of the gun pointed at the boy's chest, that the soldier would shoot without hesitation. "We don't want to hurt you."

Urameshi snorted and glanced from one to the other, weighing his options. The Lieutenant prayed he wouldn't bolt. True, the military didn't necessarily need all four alive but at the very least they could use the suspects as leverage against each other:

He also didn't want to kill a child.

Urameshi's lips moved – was he counting? – and he straightened, gaze fixed on Havoc. "You have the others too, right? Hiei and Kuwabara?"

Havoc didn't let his surprise show but he wasn't going to insult the kid, either. "Yes."

"Lieutenant–!"

But the soldier stopped when he raised his hand, not daring to look away.

Urameshi ground his jaw before squaring his shoulders, cigarette sputtering on the table. "You wanted me to talk, right? Let's make a deal: let them go and I'll tell you whatever you want."

"But you already promised information for the food and smoke." Havoc forced an ease he didn't feel, determined to see how far Urameshi would go. "You've gotta bring something else to the table for me to throw your friends in."

"I'm the one you want, right?! I beat the crap out of the midget, not them!" He snarled, lips curling. "They don't have anything to do with this!"

Havoc balked, caught off-guard. "Midget? You mean Edward?"

"Yeah! Edward what's-his-face!" His hands curled into fists; he was shaking and didn't even know it. "I fought your guy; I'm the one who shot at him. So let the others go."

The Lieutenant chewed on that for a moment, conscious of those bound hands. So he admitted to wielding the invisible power that nearly killed the Elrics, the one that decimated a mountain in the blink of an eye. He definitely didn't want to get on the kid's bad side.

But they couldn't just let his friends go, either.

"Talk to me then, give me something to work with." Havoc reclaimed his seat, fingers curling around the cigarettes and match box. "Tell me what I want to know and we'll see about your friends."

Urameshi ground his jaw, teeth creaking with the motion. For a moment, Havoc thought he would refuse outright, put them back at square one. But then he bent and righted the fallen chair, movements slow, no surprises. The boy who sat down was different from the one who'd stood moments before. Sure, the anger was still there but overridden by a new emotion – sullen acceptance.

Havoc held all the cards and he knew it.

"Let's start with your girl. Keiko, wasn't it?" He tapped out another cigarette for Urameshi but the kid didn't budge, even when he rolled it to him. "What's she like?"

So Urameshi told him about his girlfriend, half-sentences and grunts taking up the majority of the conversation. Childhood sweethearts, they'd known each other forever; associated through the proximity of their homes, not because their parents were friends. A firecracker with a strong sense of justice, Keiko could not tolerate bullying or wrong-doing – it was one reason she'd been on the student council at school. He drove her crazy but she stuck around anyway: always nagging, trying to make him use his head. Really, she was better off without him:

Havoc didn't need analytical skills to see how much he loved her.

"So where is she now?" He pressed when the kid fell silent. "Keiko, I mean?"

"No clue, hopefully far away from here." Urameshi sighed, rolling the weight from his shoulders as the Lieutenant lit another cigarette. "Alright, I told you about Keiko so now it's your turn! How's Kurama?"

Havoc fought not to raise his brows, amazed that he caught on to the give-and-take so quickly. "'Kurama' is stable," He began, making sure to use the same name. "But he's not out of the woods yet. Internal problems are difficult to diagnose and harder to treat."

Alarm flashed but Urameshi kept to his seat, ignoring the soldier occupying a forgotten corner. "You said he had to have surgery. What for?"

"That's not how this works, kid. It's my turn to ask a question."

"Screw your questions!" He seethed, leaning forward yet refusing to rise. "What do you want to know about me, huh? My dad's a no-show and my mom's a lush! I dropped out of school because it sucks! Fighting's the only thing I've ever been good at and apparently I suck at that too because I lost to a kid!" Urameshi sucked in a sharp breath, willing himself calm. "Keiko and the others, they're the only good things that have ever happened to me–"

Urameshi bowed his head, tongue thick with emotion."Please, don't hurt them over something stupid I did!"

Havoc paused, waiting for an act of rebellion, for the fire from before. Only nothing happened. Urameshi maintained his stance, forehead nearly brushing the table: the kid would probably be on the floor, if he'd allow it. Trembling shoulders, unsteady breaths–

Was he crying?

"Your friend went in for a pierced lung." Urameshi stilled but Havoc pretended not to notice, thumbing through his notes. "Apparently he obtained several injuries during his encounter with Lieutenant Hawkeye but that was the worst of them. If the Lieutenant hadn't administered first-aid on the scene, he'd be dead right now."

He allowed that to sink in for a moment, watching the kid's breathing level out.

"Now, let's talk about what happened a few weeks ago . . ."

Two hours later found Havoc in a commandeered waiting-room-turned-office, nibbling the end of a dip pen. A stack of blank pages sat beside the ink well, both ready for the anticipated report:

Only he couldn't sense of his notes.

Or Yusuke Urameshi, for that matter.

"The kid give you a rough time?"

He started, glancing up from smudged lead letters. Breda dropped his own notes beside Havoc's, trying and failing to suppress a yawn. Everyone on the team had been taking turns watching the four, even though Eastern Command had sent backup the moment the Colonel reported apprehending them. Mustang wanted at least one member with the boys at all times, and since he and Hawkeye were injured, that meant an additional officer was posted with both, just in case. Needless to say, none of them had gotten much rest during the last three days–

Breda was nearing thirty six hours on no sleep.

"You sure you don't want to catch a nap in the corner? I'll cover your shift."

"Nah, I'm good." Breda dragged a hand down his face, pressing at his temples, his eyes. Despite his best efforts, he still looked like death warmed-over. Sinking into the chair opposite Havoc, he wasted no time starting his own report, pulling the ink well close. "You didn't answer my question."

"Oh, sorry." Havoc fought the urge to rub at his own eyes, craving another cigarette though the pack was long gone. Apparently smokes were the only thing that loosened Urameshi's tongue. "Not really. He's ticked off but can't really blame him for that: I would be too if I were in his shoes."

"He's a suspected terrorist." Breda cut in, working on autopilot. "He gave up the right to feel anything when he sided with the rebellion."

Havoc's brow rose. "You really think these guys are in on that?"

The meaty hand paused, ink welling until a drop fell, splattering the page's corner. To his surprise, Breda laid the pen down, gaze focused on the offending liquid. "Honestly, I don't know." The words came slowly, thick syllables dropping like so many rocks. "Not after . . . nothing he said makes sense."

"Hey, that's not like you." Havoc nudged him but Breda didn't budge, brow drawn, watching as black slowly swallowed white. "Talk to me. You had Urameshi's partner; Kuwabara, wasn't it? What did he say?"

Still, his coworker remained silent, pressing a fist to his mouth. For a moment, Havoc thought he wouldn't answer. Then, Breda's lips moved, soft words he could barely hear; a condensed version of the captive's story: a day at the beach in a land without war, a different time – a different world. A red circle appearing in the waves, swallowing a girl, the four guys tumbling after her. A white room, a gate; a smiling shade and reaching hands. Waking up in a strange place surrounded by soldiers, guns pointed at them, words he couldn't understand. Two buddies hurt, bleeding; one screaming. Please, please don't let him die! Kurama; Kurama–

"He asked about that one a lot, took a bit for me to realize he meant the red head, Shuichi. That name didn't seem to register with him, though." Breda sighed, resting his eyes.

Havoc glanced at the notes, jaw rolling. "They're being a bit overprotective of him, aren't they? Think they know something we don't?"

"Who knows?" Breda sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Anyway, you know how the Major had to separate him from Shuichi, so the doctors could work?"

"Yeah but after that he hasn't been any trouble, right?"

"Wrong." His lids cracked open, gaze fixed to the wall. "After Armstrong left, Fuery was temporarily put in charge of Kuwabara; kid shook him up pretty bad."

"How so?"

"He said his friend was dying."

A snort. "I don't see why that'd scare him. Anyone who saw the guy could tell–"

"No, he knew exactly what was going on. Kuwabara told Fuery when Shuichi coded and was brought back before word left the operating room."

Havoc's brows rose and fell just as quickly, disbelief twisting his mouth. "That's impossible."

"Tell that to Fuery; the guy somehow knew exactly when Urameshi came around, too."

Breda allowed that to sink in, eyes falling to the half-finished report. A brooding hum and Havoc reached into his pocket, remembering too late the cigarettes were gone. "So what, he's a psychic or something? Like those soothe sayers from the desert?"

"I don't know." He rubbed at his cropped head, pumpkin hairs bristling. "I've never seen anything like this before."

"Lieutenant Havoc!"

They started at the voice, glancing up. Edward peered around the corner, making sure the two were truly alone before entering. Cloak forgotten, the kid almost managed to appear inconspicuous in his black attire: if not for his stature and shock of hair, he was easy to miss.

Well, he would be if he could keep his mouth shut.

"Hey Ed, feeling better already?" Havoc's question came easily, lofty as a breeze.

Breda, however, would have none of it. "You're supposed to be in your room."

But Edward ignored him, focused on the blonde man. "I need a favor."

Havoc pushed the blank pages away, more than willing to avoid work. "Sure thing. What is it?"

He knew the kid well enough. Edward probably felt bad for disobeying orders and wanted to make up with Mustang, needed help smoothing things over. Havoc didn't mind. After all, he'd been with the Colonel for–

"I need to talk to Yusuke."

Havoc blinked, all thought grinding to a halt. For a moment, he thought he misheard. But the boy didn't look away, a familiar hardness overtaking his eye–

The same glare as Urameshi.

"You know we can't do that." Breda rose, fatigue weighing his tone, syllables more growl than actual words. "The Colonel ordered you to–"

"I need to speak with him and I'm not leaving til I do."

Havoc sighed, all attempts at humor falling away as he stood. "He's right, Ed; it's too risky. The Colonel's orders aside, this guy almost killed you and Al–"

"I know that!" He hissed, gloved hands tightening to fists. "I know . . . That's why I have to see him. Now."

The officers shared a look, each falling into predetermined roles. "Look, why don't you wait a bit longer, give the Colonel time to cool off?" Havoc pressed gently as Breda crossed his arms, a scowl thinning his mouth. "It's not like he's going anywhere, right?"

Edward dipped his chin, silent determination taking hold. "Don't make me pull rank on you."

Havoc stilled, not sure if he heard correctly. Once enlisted, alchemists working for the military were automatically given the rank of Major, a petty reward for becoming a state dog. Edward had never shown interest in titles or deference to rank outside of those above Colonel Mustang; he'd never allowed anyone to call him Major Elric.

To change that now– "You can't be serious."

"The only one here who outranks me is Colonel Mustang and he's asleep; I passed him on the way in." Those eyes hardened once more, goblets of fire taking them both in. "I'm asking for five minutes, nothing more. I'll do it without your help if I have to."

Another look, shared grimaces. If Edward was serious, he could charge them with insubordination for not allowing him to see the prisoner. After all, the Colonel had ordered him to stay away, but not for anyone to make him stay away:

There was nothing they could do and the kid knew it.

"Alright, five minutes." Havoc conceded, starting down the hall. "If you're not out by then, I'm sending someone to wake the Colonel."

Edward smirked, falling in behind them. "Deal."

Yusuke cracked open an eye as the lock sounded, expecting the cigarette-packing Havoc only to find the runt from before.

"Well, well, if it isn't mighty mouse back for round two!"

The boy scowled, closing the door behind him. Bruises dotted his face, scabbed-over cuts as well as choice swelling. Yusuke had to give him credit – this guy was tough.

Not many could take the Spirit Gun at full power and live to tell about it.

Yusuke crossed his ankles in the chair, legs bouncing alongside his chuckle. "What, so scared of having your butt kicked that your buddies had to tie me up? Make it easier this time?"

The golden glare sharpened though the midget didn't move, even when shadows appeared under the door.

"Got nothing to say? Or have you learned your big boy words yet?"

"I'm not a child." The words came softly but with a razor edge, echoed by the steps bringing him closer. Yusuke noted the tight jaw and too-straight shoulders, the gloved hands rigid with rage. A lifetime spent getting under people's skin yet he couldn't enjoy this, not really.

The kid made it too easy.

"My name is Edward Elric. We introduced ourselves in the mountains."

"Sorry, didn't catch your name then." He leaned back, stocks rubbing his shins as he rolled his neck. "Hard to hear anything that comes out of that small mou–"

"We don't have a lot of time so let's cut the crap!" Edward pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down, hands resting inches apart atop the wood. "I came to ask you something and I'm not leaving until you tell me."

Yusuke snorted, rolling forward until the table caught his biceps. "I just got grilled by your guy. There's no way I'm hashing all that out again."

"I can help you."

He paused, retort dying on his tongue. Edward let the statement sink in, conscious of the watch ticking in his pocket.

"If you're really not with the rebels, I can help you get out, you and your friends. But if you're with them or don't talk to me the deal's off; you're on your own." The blonde pressed his fingertips together, bringing them to his lips. "What's it going to be?"

It was a cheap trick; a low-blow, and they both knew it. Anger flashed before Yusuke settled back, grudging acceptance overtaking passivity.

Taking his submission for what it was, Edward lowered his hands, fingers lacing. "How did you make that transmutation?"

Yusuke's blinked. "Huh? Transmutation?"

"The blue light, the one you aimed at me!" The boy snarled, tightening the grip on his own hands.

"Oh, you mean the Spirit Gun?" Yusuke watched Edward repeated the name, realization dawning. "Wait a minute, you could see that?"

A blonde brow rose. "Yeah? It was kind of hard to miss."

"That's weird. Normal humans aren't supposed to–"

Edward waited but he didn't go on, lost in his own thoughts. "Normal humans aren't supposed to what?"

"Uh, don't worry about it." Yusuke mused a moment, wooden restraints scraping the underside of the table. "You could see it, huh?"

He took the kid's glare at face value, tilting his head back. "Anyway, that was my Spirit Gun, not a transmu-whatever you called it."

"Transmutation." Edward shook his head. Was this guy an idiot? "You know, a reaction in alchemy?"

"Doesn't ring a bell." Yusuke raised his arms, digging in one ear. "What about it?"

There were a million things he wanted to know but one in particular stood out. "Why did my seeing it surprise you?"

If the question bothered Yusuke, he hid it well, inspecting the wax on the end of his finger. "Like I said, normal humans can't see it. The only exceptions are people with a stupid sixth sense or who died and came back to life."

All color drained from Edward's face; for a moment, he couldn't breathe. "What do you mean?"

"You know, people who see the other side but get brought back before they cross over. Happens all the time: comas, accidents, near-drownings, all kinds of things. I got hit by a car once and–"

Edward's hand shot out and grabbed the stocks, pulling him close. "Are you saying," He bit his lip, fighting against a suddenly tight throat. "Did you see it?"

Yusuke noted the muted tone, the hand trembling against his abdomen. "See what?"

A moment's hesitation, a thousand thoughts on parade. He couldn't tell if this guy was playing dumb or not and he hated it. "The Gate. Did you see it?"

Yusuke's eyes widened, brow furrowing in an almost comical way. Ticking fingers, muttering words Edward couldn't make heads-or-tails of. "What gate?"

Edward let go, pushing the suspect away.

"Forget it."

He settled back into his chair but Yusuke remained standing, uncaring of the loose knot at his hip, the hospital gown losing a battle with physics. Staring at those bound hands, Edward relived the blue wave, the wrongness of it. He heard the late warning, his brother's scream; he felt the light that was somehow hot and cold, tingling in his limbs. Knowing he was going to die and being powerless to stop it. A familiar hand pushing him away, shrieking metal engulfed by blue–

Even awake, he couldn't escape that sound.

"Did you mean to do it?"

The question came so softly,Yusuke almost missed it. "Do what?"

Edward met his gaze then, hatred and fear mingling. "Were you trying to kill my brother?"

And just like that, all traces of arrogance fled, the color draining from his face. Yusuke sank into his seat, deflated, unsure; almost timid.

Still, his answer surprised Edward. "What about you? Weren't you trying to kill us?"

"Of course not!" He seethed, braid falling over one shoulder. "We told you that from the start!"

"But you almost killed Kuwabara." Yusuke's face hardened, words dropping like stones. "And you guys brought us here in the first place."

A courtesy rap at the door – the one minute warning. "What did you expect? I told you we were taking you here!"

"No, this world, not your crappy base."

This world? Edward rose; thirty seconds left. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Yusuke nearly stood but thought better of it, scowling. "Well, what's it going to be?

He frowned, conscious of the ticking watch, the feet shuffling beyond the threshold.

"Are you going to help us or not?"

Edward shook his head, starting for the door. "How can I? You haven't given me anything to work with."

"Want to see it again?"

He paused, two steps from the exit. Edward turned back, noting the fire in Yusuke's eyes, desperation and determination melding into one. "See what?"

"The Spirit Gun. You want to see it, don't you?"

Had it been that obvious? Still, he hesitated, not daring to move one way or the other. "Why would you show it to me?"

"Because you're scared of it. That's why you locked me up." Yusuke scooted as close as the table would allow, hands open, entreating. "If I show you how it works, you won't have to be afraid anymore."

What kind of childish logic was that? But Edward could see he was being genuine – it was written all over his face. "Even if you cooperate, that might not be enough for the Colonel."

"Then I'll do whatever he wants, I don't care." He set his jaw, tucking his chin. "Just don't take what I did out on the others. This is between me and you, kid – it doesn't have anything to do with them."

"Edward." He corrected automatically, mind whirling. Did Yusuke not know one of his friends almost killed Mustang? Still, Edward couldn't fault him for his loyalty.

"I'll see what I can do." He said as the door opened, Breda filling the space. "Give these guys any trouble and you're on your own."

He didn't miss the hope dawning in those eyes, relieved sigh following him out of the room and down the hall.

A/N: Hello and welcome back! Sorry for the delayed update but thank you all for your patience. Also, shout-out to WistfulSin, Tonbogiri and everyone else who helped with this chapter. You guys are awesome. Thank you all for the favorites, follows and reviews!

So Yusuke got a two-for-one special with interrogations and Kuwabara spilled his guts to Breda. What will the military do with the information they provided, and will Edward be able to help them? Next chapter focuses on Hiei and Kurama's interrogations and you won't want to miss that! Until next time guys, don't forget to review!