Chapter 16

He remembered this feeling. Once, sometime near the start of his apprenticeship with Teacher, he'd seriously messed up a fall. He'd been sparring with the woman, getting his ass kicked really, when she threw him and he landed wrong. Hard. With his head first.

When he'd opened his eyes, he was flat on his back, Al and Teacher's blurry faces hovering over him. He had no idea how he got from flying in the air to lying flat on his back. It couldn't have been more than a few seconds but the loss of time made his skin crawl. He'd cracked his head on the bricks of the sidewalk and when he was helped into a sitting position, the world spun so much he leaned right over and threw up his lunch. Al looked positively panicked but Teacher placed a firm hand on his back until he was done. She helped him into the house, pushed him gently into a chair in the kitchen and told Al to keep the icy cloth to his brother's head until she came back.

They didn't really talk about it even though Ed thought she owed him an apology. Teacher took him off the physical part of their routine and set him up to do light work around the house and theoretical alchemy homework. Ed had been furious with her for it. His young self had thought he'd messed up so badly that Teacher no long considered him worth training and he spent two weeks moodily watching Al spar from the bedroom window.

When, finally, he was allowed back outside for the sparring, he was furious to learn that he would not be picking up his training where he'd left off. Instead, the woman informed the two of them they would be learning how to fall.

"Isn't the whole point in learning how not to fall?" he had whined.

Teacher's furious gaze landed on the boy and made him quiver. "Everyone falls," she snapped at him. "Some do it with more dignity than others," she said in obvious reference to his earlier fail. "Learn how to fall, and you'll get back up every time."

They learned how to fall properly. The boys complained about the bruises every night for nearly two and half months but Ed had never landed poorly again. Not against Teacher nor in any of the fights he'd been in since. He fell, he rolled, he got back up. The motion was ingrained in him just like a lot of Izumi's teachings.

He'd never hit his head so hard as he had that day until now. Now, as he lay in the cold, damp and dark metal shell he'd created, he waited for the world he couldn't see to stop spinning. He knew he had a concussion. He remembered the feeling. He didn't want to move because he was sure his stomach wouldn't agree. His head hurt, his teeth hurt and he was shivering uncontrollably.

When he was sure he could handle it, Ed slowly pushed himself into a seated position, his back against the metal that used to be the mine cart. He'd transmuted the thing to wrap around him, pushing out the water and replacing it with air at the same time. He could do nothing to stop its momentum, however. Blinded, disoriented and gasping for much needed air, Ed remembered being thrown violently but that was it. As far as he knew, he was still underwater but at least his situation was slightly better than it had been before.

"Kid?"

Ed nearly jumped out of his skin, regretting it immediately as it sent a shooting pain right into the back of his eyeballs. He knew that voice. Right.

"Detective," he ground out through gritted teeth. It had more to do with the pain than his hatred for the man but the later was a close second.

There was a moment of silence. "Have a good nap, did you?" the other man could not keep the condescension from his voice.

Ed screwed his eyes shut trying to block out the colourful sunbursts that only existed in his vision. "Fuck you," he spat though it lacked its usual venom.

Hartley must have sensed something was wrong. Ed heard the man shift his weight, the sound of metal chinking. "You hurt?" he asked after a moment.

Ed didn't answer right away. He focused on his breathing, grounding himself. Move slow, take it easy Teacher had told him. He was used to all manner of surface injuries. Cuts, bruises, sprains. He'd even broken his finger once and that wasn't even counting surviving his limbs being severed from his body. But those didn't compare to a head injury. You could cover an open wound with a bandage and you could splint a broken bone but when your head was broken, there wasn't a whole lot you could do.

When he was able to shift his weight without the universe trying to slap him in the face, Ed let out a long sigh, resting his head against the cold wall. "I think I'm okay," he said, which was an outright lie. It bothered him how good he'd become at lying.

There was a moment of silence before Hartley spoke up. "Good, so you can let me down now?" It was not really a question.

"What?" Ed's sluggish mind was having a hard time keeping up with the conversation.

He decided he needed to see what was going on. Later, in retrospect, he would admit that attempting alchemy with his head in the state it was in was a poor choice but he did it anyway.

The darkness shrank for a brief moment as the light from the transmutation chased the shadows away. It was something he'd done a hundred times while on the road with Al. Sometimes, the boys had no choice but to rough it, sleeping in alchemy-made turf shelters in the middle of nowhere. Being able to scavenge off the land, so to speak, allowed them to always travel light.

He made a crude but simple oil lamp. A shallow bowl filled with kerosene and a cotton wick, which he stole from the hem of his coat. The flint was easy with the abundance of quartz under his feet. With practiced ease, Ed lit the lamp and the space was filled with the warm glow from the flickering flame.

He scanned the dimly lit space until his eyes landed on a pair of boots, one boot decidedly more bloodied than the other. Hartley was favouring his injured foot and the way he was forced to crouch in the low space looked highly uncomfortable. Ed saw that the man's hands were still handcuffed to what used to be the end of the cart, which was now above his head.

"Oh," he said lamely. His head was threatening to crack open and he could feel a certain amount of stickiness to his hair which told him there was probably blood involved. Without getting up, he released the man. Without any warning, Hartley fell painfully to his knees with a dull thud. Ed winced. Hartley let out a string of curses but the relief on his face as he massaged his sore wrists was obvious.

The man looked like he'd lost a fight with a bear. His face was caked with dried blood, he was dirty, wet and bruised. "Wow," drawled the teen before he realized what was coming out of his mouth, "you look like crap."

The look the older man shot him told him he probably didn't look any better.

Ed rubbed at his eyes and leaned back against the cold metal. There was definitely a goose egg on the back of his head. He knew he should be thinking of ways to get out of their situation and return to the surface. Havoc was fighting all by himself up there. But it was hard to think. His night filled with action and adrenaline was finally catching up with him. His head felt foggy and his eyes were so very heavy.

"Don't sleep!," Hartley practically barked at him. "You probably have a concussion or something."

He hadn't even realized he'd closed his eyes. "No shit," he muttered back. But the man was right, he shouldn't sleep. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his watch to check the time. He stared at the hands. Even through his confused haze, he knew the watch was wrong but it didn't make sense. The hands were fast somehow, showing him that it was nearly six in the morning.

Hartley watched him as he continued to stare stupidly at his watch. "It's quarter to six," he said, pulling out his own watch. Ed looked up at him with a frown.

"No, that can't be right. It was only just past three last time I checked." Ed whacked his watch a few times against the metal floor just to be sure.

Hartley frowned too, though whether that was because Ed wasn't making sense or because of the way he was treating his State Alchemist's watch, Ed wasn't sure. "Oh no, it's right," he said with a sour look on his face. "You've been out for a while."

The realisation hit him. They'd lost nearly three hours down here. Havoc! He probably thinks I'm dead. "Shit!"

Ed made to stand but the sudden movement made him feel nauseous and he sat back down heavily.

"Do you have any ideas on how to get out of here?" the older man asked him. Ed gritted his teeth as he fought the wave of nausea.

"If I did," he growled, "we'd be out already."

Hartley responded in kind. "Well excuse me for thinking you actually had a plan," he retorted. "I thought you were some sort of genius". He sat back down on his side of the space and regarded the boy with distaste. "Guess it was all talk."

"What do you want me to do?" snapped the teen, "pull a fucking miracle out of my ass? I don't see you tryin' anything!"

"I'm not the one who got us in this mess in the first place," retorted the older man, sweeping his hand above his head to indicate the prison they were now confined in.

Ed scoffed. "Yeah, ok. Next time, I'll let you drown," he replied acidly.

Hartley took a deep breath as if he was trying to remind himself who the adult was in this conversation. He also looked as if he was, physically, trying to swallow his pride. He held his breath for a moment then let it all out through his nose slowly.

"Look," he started, calmly, "you and I both know that you're the better alchemist here." The admission seemed to be paining him. "If there's a chance that we are getting out of this alive, you're it. I know you're young-"

"I'm not a-."

Hartley gave him a warning glare and Ed shut his mouth. "-but you need to pull your bootstraps up because giving up is not an option. Sooner or later, we are going to run out of air in here or freeze to death, whichever comes first."

There was a long silence as they both contemplated that. It was simple. If they stayed here, they would die.

Ed bit his tongue to keep from saying what was on his mind. The man was right. He rested his chin on his knees. "I just need a minute to clear my head, o.k.?" he said quietly.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence just stretched on and on until Hartley broke it.

"Thank you," he said suddenly. Ed could hear the sincerity in the words. "For saving my life."

When the teen looked up, Hartley wasn't looking at him. Ed wasn't sure what to say but he recognized the truce for what it was. He settled on an awkward "You're welcome, I guess." And in a moment of rare wisdom, he chose not to add What do you take me for? Did you really think I was gonna let someone die?

"So you," he started instead, "you really weren't involved in…" Ed waved his hand vaguely in what he guessed was the direction of the cavern. "The whole evil plot thing?"

"No." Was Hartley's short answer.

Ed watched him carefully. "Then why have you been such a jackass to me?" he asked bluntly.

Hartley threw his hands in the air. "Because I thought you were!"

Ed raised a single eyebrow but said nothing.

"When I heard we were getting a State Alchemist, I couldn't have been more happy," Hartley admitted. "Finally, someone on the outside to witness the crap that was going down in the department. I thought Eastern Command had taken me seriously. But-," the man sized Ed up as if to prove his point, "then they sent me you."

Ed's expression turned indignant. "And what's wrong with me?" he challenged evenly. "Did I not solve the stupid case in less than a week? How long were you working on it?"

"I was being hindered by Cann and all of Barne's other flunkies," Hartley defended. He raised his hands in a show of another truce just as Ed opened his mouth with a comeback.

"When I heard you were targeted tonight, at the hotel, I didn't know what to think anymore," he admitted. "That Lieutenant vouched for you," he added.

"Yeah, well," Ed huffed moodily, acting his age, "maybe you shouldn't be so quick to judge people, Mr. I can't keep my opinions to myself."

Hartley smoothly changed the subject. "Tell me what you know about this bomb," he asked evenly, all business.

Ed could work with that and let the other stuff go, for now. "I came across it a while ago working on a different project. I knew right away that it could be bad news so I," he hesitated. Strictly speaking, he should have reported it to Mustang. Erasing evidence of such a destructive weapon could land him in hot water if the information got out. "I destroyed it. Or I thought I did."

Hartley was listening closely. "So you know how it works?"

"Educated guess at best," Ed amended. "It has something to do with electricity and copper and the whole thing is rigged with alchemy." The copper was probably just a conduit for the electric current, now that he thought about it. "What I don't get though," he added as an afterthought, "is why build such a complex bomb and set it off in a cave out in the middle of nowhere to kill a few dozen slaves?"

The two thought about it for a moment. "It's a test run," Hartley said. Ed could see the wheels turning in the detective's mind. "Right now, there's a power vacuum in Aerugo. It's complicated but the bottom line is, there are many different parties vying for power. What if, one of them hired an outside, third party to build them a bomb? They couldn't do it in their own country without attracting attention so…"

"They do it in Amestris," finished Ed.

"And Barnes, being the dirty crook he is, has his hands in the pie. I have to say, though," said Hartley, his mouth in a grim line, "the scale of the operation came as a surprise to me. There were hundreds of crates in the loading area, each filled to the brim with coins. The labels claimed they were destined for the Bank of Aerugo but I bet that's just a front."

"So…they're not forging currency for the sake of currency?" Now Ed was really confused. But then again, he argued with himself thinking it through, why would Aerugan crooks want to forge Amestrian coins in the first place? And if they did, the lowest valued coin doesn't seem like the quickest way to get rich.

"No," said Hartley as he came to similar conclusions, "It's not the face value of the coins they're after. It's the material value. They're smuggling pure copper across the border disguised as currency."

Ed nodded. It made sense. "Pure metal imports are highly taxed and monitored at the border," he added smartly. Thank you, Warrant Officer Falman for filling my head with trivial knowledge.

"But it's not even about money," argued the older man. "I think they're actually using the copper to build their bomb."

Ed was quiet after that as the weight of their discovery settled on him. "That's gonna be one hell of a bomb," he almost whispered.

"What do you mean?" came Hartley's sharp reply.

Ed sighed and buried his head in his arms. "The amount of copper used to make that prototype was fairly small. With the amount that they must be mining out of this place? The real thing must be something else."

Hartley leaned back against the metal shell, wincing when he bumped his injured foot. "Maybe they're planning on building several smaller bombs," he reasoned.

"Either way, a lot of people are gonna die," was the teen's morose answer. Despite his head feeling clearer and the nausea having subsided quite a bit, he felt incredibly tired suddenly. He kicked himself mentally for not doing a better job of destroying the awful thing when he had the chance. He wished, not for the first time, that Al was here. Al was his rock; always there, steady and unwavering.

"No. They're not," growled the other man, "Because you're going to get us out of here." There were no ifs about it.

Ed chuckled bitterly. "Thanks for the sudden vote of confidence but I don't see how."

Hartley would not accept no for an answer. He shook his head. "What if you just," he raised both hands up with the palms facing up, "lift us up out of the water?"

Ed shook his head too. He'd thought of that already. "There's too much material to move. Maybe if Al was here," he looked up, saw the confused look on the man's face and added, "that's my little brother. The two of us maybe could do it but…" He left it hanging, the meaning pretty clear. He couldn't do it alone and certainly not with his head all banged up.

They fell into silence as they each contemplated the problem. Maybe they could go down? But Ed shook the thought away as soon as it came up. There were too many impurities. And besides, he had no idea which direction to go. That much alchemy was sure to drain what little strength he had left and the worse thing he could do was tunnel in the wrong direction.

He shivered and was uncomfortably aware that the ends of his wet hair were stiff. Frozen. They were going to freeze to death before they ran out of air, of that he was sure.

His head shot up. "Frozen," he said out loud suddenly.

"Yeah," groused the other man, "It's fucking cold in here".

"No, maybe I can freeze us!"

Hartley stared at him as if he'd gone mad. "When I said do something I wasn't suggesting suicide by hypothermia," he said slowly. He knew that dire situations did strange things to people's heads. Ben suddenly wasn't so sure he wanted to rely on this kid to save him.

Ed rolled his eyes and huffed in frustration, annoyed that Hartley wasn't keeping up with his thoughts. "Ice floats," he said like he was explaining to a toddler that food goes in the mouth.

Hartley raised an eyebrow.

Ed ignored the man in favour of thinking through the equations he would need for this transmutation. He'd read about a State Alchemist whose specialty was ice. He used alchemy to change the state of water.

Ed had plenty of water which was already close to the freezing point if not already below it. All he had to do was slow it down. He touched the frosted metal of what used to be a mine car and let out a slow breath.

Ben watched as the teen concentrated, placing his hands on the ground. He wanted to say something. He even opened his mouth to protest but then shut it again. He'd already seen this kid do some incredible alchemy. It wasn't like he could do anything about their situation so why not? What did he have to lose?

The kid, coming to some sort of conclusion, nodded once to himself and touched his hands together. Ben felt the air hum with the alchemic energy the moment his palms met and his mouth opened again in wonder. No equations, no array. Just a quiet moment of thought and two hands coming together was enough to start the transmutation. He didn't even understand how that was possible. Ben stared at the boy. As an alchemist himself he understood the awesome feat he was witnessing for what it was.

Then the kid slapped his hands down to the ground again and there was a moment of tense silence as nothing happened.

Fullmetal grinned devilishly, which is something Ben never wanted to see on a 13 year old ever again, and looked up at him. His attention was still clearly on the transmutation but he spared a bit of his focus on the older man.

"You might want to brace yourself."

And then their capsule gave an ominous creak and everything lurched.

A/N: Here you go, another chapter. I've been working on this for so long, I'm sorry. But you know life gets in the way. Anyway, the plot is moving along nicely. Only a few chapters left to go.

Thank you very much for sticking to it! And the reviews brighten my day every time.