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Chapter Text

Art by the amazing Netydraws!                                            Art by the awesome art-and-jazz!

The stench of rotting, burnt flesh was hard to explain. Some likened it to a bitter, copper-like aroma due to how the blood boiled, others a sulfurous smell; something that only could be compared to rotten eggs. At that moment, Ed couldn't discern what it reminded him out. But even through the hand clamped over his mouth and nose, the smell invaded his senses, causing a wave of nausea in his stomach.

Maria Ross had been burnt to death.

She was unrecognizable. The flames had burned away her hair, which Ed, in some calm and detached state, figured was part of what caused the smell. Her skin had been charred so severely that some of it had crumbled where it lay on the pavement.

In front of him, Mustang stared at him with an expression of boredom. Ed tore his gaze from Ross to stare at his superior, the shock making him unable to form any words. "Hello, Fullmetal," Mustang stated coldly, as if Ed hadn't found him standing over Maria Ross' chard body.

Ed's metal hand balled into a fist, joints creaking with his fury. "What's going on," he finally managed, flashing golden eyes finally meeting Mustang's. "What the hell is going on here, Colonel; explain yourself," Ed snarled. He'd started breathing heavily, mind filled with such rage and betrayal that he didn’t even know what to do with himself.

Ed felt an overwhelming sense of desperation to do anything to wipe that look off of Mustang's face. This wasn't the man who'd let him and Al stay over when they’d had no other place to stay, who would hold him close when Ed woke up screaming and sobbing from a nightmare, finding Mustang asleep in a chair next to his bed the next morning. This couldn't be the same person. Ed wouldn't believe it; refused to. 

"Why did you kill her? What did she even do to result in you murdering her in cold blood, Mustang? Tell me, damn it!" His heart pounded in his chest. His mind screamed for Mustang to give him a reasonable answer. 

Mustang rolled his eyes, making to turn around and abandon the badly charred body. "I had my orders. She murdered Hughes and was a dangerous criminal. I was told to shoot to kill if she resisted. She resisted.”

Ed snapped.

One moment he was standing in front of Ross' charred body; the next, his automail yanked the material of Mustang's uniform taut. He snarled in Mustang's face. "You bastard, you lied about Hughes' death and then murdered his supposed killer in cold blood? She was innocent. You're a murderer! He wouldn't have wanted this!"

The next few moments were a blur. Mustang's indifferent expression filled with anger, and he made a low sound. One moment he had a solid grip on Mustang's uniform; the next, a fist cracked against his jaw, snapping his neck to the right. The punch threw him to the ground, causing his head to crack on the concrete.

Stars flashed before Ed's eyes, and he was momentarily stunned. A copper tang filled his mouth, and he spat the blood out with disgust. Above him, Mustang stared down at him from a few feet away. The older man took a deep, stressed breath and looked as if he was trying to calm himself.

Ed was too stunned by the man's actions even to move. His jaw throbbed; he was going to have a hell of a bruise in the morning. But the ache in his jaw couldn't even come close to the sharp pang in his heart. Ed felt heat behind his eyes.

"You hit me." His voice sounded small. God , Mustang had hit him. The bastard took a step forward. Ed flinched back, trembling. There was a flash of undeterminable emotion in Mustang's stygian eyes before they hardened. 

"You dare lay a hand on a commanding officer? Know your place, Fullmetal." Mustang growled with an air of disgust. The man smoothed his collar of any creases.

"You lied to me." A sob bubbled in Ed's throat, tears pooling in his eyes. "You lied to me and didn't tell me that one of my friends was murdered , and then you go and kill one of the only people I've ever really trusted."

Mustang pulled back his lips; teeth gritted before he was interrupted by the loud cry of "Brother!" The loud, clanging steps of Alphonse echoed off the walls before Ed felt his presence behind him, kneeling and placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Brother, are you一" Al gasped from a nonexistent throat. 

"He killed Maria Ross, Al." Ed noticed distantly that his voice was dull.

Mustang sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "I apologize for not telling either of you about Hughes. I thought it would do nothing but hinder the both of you, and for that, I am sorry."

Ed jumped to his feet, and he would've punched the man in the face if Al hadn't been holding him back. He struggled and snarled curses in threats at Mustang. The man took them without the blink of an eye.

"I hate you, you bastard. You knew! You knew that Hughes was my friend, you lying bastard!"

Mustang had turned, approaching the MPs at the entrance.

Ed's knees collapsed underneath him, and Al allowed him to crumble. A gloved hand covered his trembling lips, muffling the mournful sob that finally tore its way from his throat. His face was wet, but he didn't care. 

With a broken sob, he realized he'd been right. A bastard like Mustang only cared about himself. The Mustang he knew was gone. The Mustang he knew was gone.

One thing that night became clear that night to Ed: they were alone. There were no adults to look up to, nobody to protect them, and now that the final adult had left them, they were truly alone.

Ed cried until he fell asleep in Al's arms.

It was 3 AM when Alphonse was jolted out of his stupor by a loud banging on the door. It ceased for a moment before continuing. With an exhausted sigh, Al stood up and opened the door. He wasn't surprised to see who was behind the door. Winry's tear-streaked face stared up at him.

"Win一"

"He's gone," Her voice cracked. "Mr. Hughes is dead." Winry sobbed into her hand. Al drew Winry inside, pulling her into a hug. He rested his massive helmet on her head, forcing himself not to hold her tighter as her sobs grew heavier.

After what felt like hours, Winry withdrew from his arms, wiping her face. "Where's Ed?" She asked. Winry knew how much Ed had cared about Hughes, remembering how once, Ed had referred to Hughes jokingly as real dad and Colonel Mustang as the uncle.

"He's in the bedroom. Listen Winry. . . he cried himself to sleep."

"What happened?" Winry gasped. In all of her years with the two boys, she'd only seen Ed cry once that entire time.

"Colonel Mustang. . .he killed Maria Ross." Al's voice cracked, and he would've been crying if he could.

"Why did he kill her?" 

"He. . .He said that Ross had killed Hughes. But she couldn't have, Winry! She was the kindest and sweetest person I'd ever met, and Colonel Mustang. . . he was so cold, Winry. I've never seen him that cold," Al cracked.

His metal limbs trembled. Oh, how he wanted to cry. The heart Al didn't have had broken while his brother cried in his arms, wailing out his heartbreak at the loss of Hughes, the colonel, and the woman they'd grown to care about deeply. The colonel wasn't dead, yet some part of Al felt that the man they knew was gone.

Al just sighed and shook his head. He hadn't forgotten that the colonel was suffering as well. Hughes had been his best friend, and he couldn't imagine what he was going through. If Ed had died that day in the basement. . . well一that was a different situation altogether, and he would rather not think about how that day could've turned out so differently, with his brother dead, and himself all alone in a metal body.

So, yeah, Al had a pretty good idea how the colonel was suffering, but that in no way made it alright for the colonel to kill someone without a trial or an explanation. 

Al was angry. He could feel it, boiling beneath the surface, ready to explode at a moment's notice. The suit of armor wondered if this is how his brother felt when he first encountered the colonel. 

Winry shook her head, rewrapping her arms around his body. The anger in him dissipated for the moment, and all that was left was overwhelming grief. Flashes of Hughes and Ross appeared in his mind, every moment they shared, every time they had taken care of them.

"I'm sorry; this was all our fault," Al cried. 

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

Light flooded Ed's closed eyelids. The blond groaned, stuffing his head under his pillow. His head pounded, pulsing every few seconds behind his eyes before stopping for a moment and starting again. 

The night before flashed in his vision, and Ed groaned. He didn't want to remember what happened; how Mustang had turned into someone he didn't even know right before his eyes. He couldn't bear the thought of reporting to his superior now. Ed would never see the man again if he had it his way.

Part of Ed wanted to try to understand why Mustang had done what he'd done, but there was so much that didn’t logically add up. How had Ross resisted? Was she scared when she came across Mustang? Ross barely even knew Hughes, let alone the fact that she'd only met the man after Ed's hospital stay after lab five. Hughes had been nothing but cordial to her, even going as far as to tell her that she didn't even need to use his title.

So, either she'd been falsely accused and Mustang, in revenge, murdered her, or Ross, for no reason, murdered Hughes, and Mustang killed her before she got to serve the rest of her life behind bars. Either way, a person's life and had been taken away with a woman having no way to defend herself. 

And Ed couldn't find any part of himself willing to forgive Roy Mustang, at least not for a very, very long time. He pulled his head from under the pillow, facing the window. The early morning sunlight felt warm on his face, but it did nothing to dissipate the cloudy emotions in his head. 

He knew that it was more than likely that Mustang would summon him in the next few days, mocking him while Ed stared down at his feet, unable to bear the cold look in his eyes. Before he'd grown close to the man, Ed had refused to acknowledge that he craved the colonel's approval. Still, he knew everyone could tell, when his chest would swell after a compliment, how he only pretended to hate how Mustang would playfully ruffle his hair.

Now, there would be no more praise, no more playful hair ruffles, no more staying over when there was nowhere else to go, nobody to hold him while he sobbed after a nightmare, no more anything. Ed's eyes burned. He should've never grown close to Mustang, to anyone on his team. 

You play with fire, you get burned, and he was burned badly.

He was so, so stupid. Why did he even allow himself to let his guard down in the first place?He sighed, wiping his hand over his face and brushing away stray tears. He sniffed; see, this is precisely why he didn't trust anyone.

What would he and Al do now? He couldn't very well stay under Mustang's command; the man would only prevent him from getting Al's body, he'd try一

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts. He sat up, wiping the tiredness out of his eyes. His cheek ached, and he poked his face, wincing at the twinge of pain. "Come in," he said quietly, voice rough and hoarse.

The door opened, Winry walking in quietly before closing the door behind her. Her eyes were red, and Ed could tell that she'd been crying. Shame filled him; Hughes' death had been because of him, and for that reason, Winry's crying was because of him. He hated when she cried.

Winry plopped down beside him, wrapping shaking arms around his waist and hiding her head in his shoulder. She took a shaky, sighing breath. "Al told you?" Ed couldn't tell if it was a question or a statement.

Winry shook her head against him. Ed's heart fell. "From Miss. Gracia; we talked." Ed's heart constricted, and he swallowed heavily. A shaky sigh fell from his lips, and he rested his chin on her head. 

"Nobody told me that life would be this hard," Ed mumbledagainst Winry's hair. Of course, he knew that life would get so much more complicated when he joined the military, but losing three people he cared about within the same month -  hell, on the same day in the case of Ross and Mustang -  just wasn't fair.

Winry wrapped an arm around Ed's neck to brush fingers through his loose hair. She loved to do it when they were younger, and it always lulled Ed into a sense of calmness. "What are you going to do now?" she asked after a few minutes of silence.

He knew he couldn’t stay under Mustang's command. The man more than likely hated him. Ed did cause his best friend's death, after all. He can't leave the military either, as he and Al were nowhere near close to getting Al's body back.

"I'm. . .going to have to transfer commands." Winry looked at him worriedly. "There's no way I'm working under him, Winry. Not after. . ." Ed stopped and breathed, forcing down the tears that attempted to make a reappearance.

Winry sighed softly, burying her face in his neck. "It's going to be ok, Ed." She said it like she was sure, like Mustang had never killed Ross and Hughes hadn't died, and he realized that it made him feel a little better. 

Ed grunted, letting the two of them fall into a comfortable silence. Winry's calloused fingers continued to card through his hair. He'd never tell her, but Winry was. . .well, he couldn’t even explain it. A knock on the door grabbed their attention, and then Al pushed his way into the room.

"There's someone on the phone for you, Winry," he said. She nodded and left to take the call. Al's metallic body slumped, and he made his way to the bed and down beside Ed.

"The lieutenant called this morning," Al said after a moment.

The blond rolled his eyes. "So that's how it's gonna be, is it?"

Al grunted. Ed shifted closer to his brother, laying his head on the cool metal. To anyone else, this would've looked uncomfortable, but Ed had gotten used to this. "I think I know what we should do. About the colonel, that is."

Al urged him to continue with a noise of affirmation. "I just. . .I can't trust him, Al. He was the last person I would've thought would. . .you know," Ed murmured. "All those times before were me trying to get on his nerves. I didn't hate him, but now. . .I just can't."

Ed lowered his head, eyes training on the floor. Al loved Mustang's team; it was something the brothers talked about often. Ed liked them, but there were times he'd see Havoc staring at him with a strange expression or Breda staring hard at his automail. The blond never knew how to feel after receiving those looks, but they were working on getting Al's body back, and he refused to be the reason Al was being torn away from people that he'd grown to care deeply about over the years. 

Ed swallowed the lump down in his throat. "I'm willing to put up with the bastard if you're happy where we are, Al. I don't want to force you away from the team. You like them, and I can't bear to see you upset that we'd be leaving them."

"Brother. . ." Al's voice was filled with awe. "I wouldn't want you to be miserable. I love Mustang's team, but. . . I'm having a hard time forgiving him, myself."

Ed lifted his head to look at his brother, a small smile on his lips. "That's a first." Al was one of the most forgiving people he had ever met. Al hadn’t even held a grudge against him for losing his body to the human transmutation.

Al sighed. "I don't understand why Colonel Mustang killed her. I can't think of anything. Usually, he has a reason for the things he does, but I just can't think of one, or wrap my mind around it."

"If I transfer, there's always the chance of what that new CO will do. What if we can't trust them? What if they take one look at you and try to figure you out?"

"There's always going to be people like that, Brother. I can put up with it if it means that you feel safer.”

"But we're getting your body back." Ed pointed out

"I can't bear the idea of you not feeling safe," Al murmured in a hushed tone. It was so quiet, something Ed was more than likely not supposed to hear. The blond's heart filled with warmth. Nothing compared to the support of his little brother.

Ed knocked an automail hand against Al's arm. "Have I ever told you how I wouldn't survive without you?" The blond smirked.

Al snorted. "Quite a bit. In fact, I remember that you did on our last mission." There was a mischievous smile in Al's voice.

"Shut up," Ed growled, but there was no real heat. "That was only because you saved my ass from certain doom."

"Certain doom, Brother? I didn't realize we lived in the dark ages."

"You little. . ." Ed jumped to his feet, teeth bared into a playful snarl. He was about to punch Al's helmet off when there was a knock on the door, and Winry pushed the door open.

She stopped in the entrance, taking in the hand that gripped Al's helmet and gauntlet on Ed's chest that held him back. She sighed, shaking her head. Idiots, the both of them.

"That was Garfiel. The shop is swamped. My work is so good that his customers only want me to fix their automail," Winry chuckled. 

Al gasped. "Looks like people are finally learning how amazing you are, Winry!" 

"Yeah. I told him I'd be back soon, but I don't want to leave the two of y'all. Not when y'all are figuring it all out."

"We'll be fine, Winry. We'll figure it out." Tears swam in Winry's eyes, but she wiped them away quickly. 

"Well, I should start getting packed then." 

"I can help you," Al offered. Winry shook her head.

"It's alright; the two of you need to figure out how to move forward. I imagine you're visiting him later today?"

"Yeah, I don't know what I'm going to say to him. I'd much rather beat him up than anything." Ed scowled. There was so much the blond wanted to do the colonel; beating him up was at the front of his list, but Ed knew there was no way he'd be able to get away with it. It would only end in a court-martial, something he couldn't afford. 

Al and Winry sighed. "What?" Ed barked, giving them both a confused look.

Winry sighed again, a smile curling onto her exhausted features. "When will you learn that beating people up is not a solution for everything, Edward." 

"Hey! It's gotten me this far, hasn't it?" Ed protested, face forming into a pout.

A chuckle escaped Al. "Whatever you say, Brother. I have to help Winry pack. In the meantime, try to figure out what you'd like to say to the colonel."

Winry and Al escaped the room before Ed could protest. He rolled his eyes at his childhood friend and brother. It wasn't a shock that they made him feel a little bit better. 

Roy had screwed up badly this time. He tapped his foot against the desk, glancing every so often at the clock on the wall, counting down the minutes before his fiery subordinate would be here. 

He cringed as he remembered his first connecting with Fullmetal's jaw, the way he hit the ground, laying stunned for a few minutes. He tried to forget the look of hurt in those fierce golden eyes, the tears that spilled down his face as he had screamed at him.

Fullmetal had gotten there at the worst time imaginable; why he had even shown up at all was confusing. Roy had been sure that his intelligence had mentioned that they were both still down south. From their location in Rush Valley, there shouldn't have been any time for them to make it.

Roy shook his head, shoving the newly completed document into the pile of completed pages. Fullmet一Edward's (when had he started calling him Edward?) bruised and betrayed expression dashed before his eyes once again, and Roy hissed.

He'd hit him. He'd hit his fifteen-year-old subordinate that he'd grown to care about as if he were his son. It had been entirely uncalled for, but Ed hadn't let up. The boy knew nothing about his relationship with Hughes; he didn't know how much his death was eating away at him, tearing him apart from the inside out. It had been a moment of blind rage, a response to the boy's snarlings and screamings.

He'd never wanted to take back something more. Take away the bruise, the hurt, the look of betrayal that he'd hoped he'd never have to see on that face. But it had happened, and no amount of wishing would take it back. No amount of praying to a higher power that he didn't believe in would make Edward forgive him. If he knew anything, Ed was forgiving, but he'd 'killed' someone he'd cared about and punched him. There was no telling what was going on in that boy's mind.

Roy groaned, resting his forehead rest on his desk. There was no taking back anything now. He couldn't very well tell Edward that Ross was alive; it would only put her in danger and distract him from his quest to get his brother's body back. If it meant Edward got Alphonse's body back quicker, then he could live with it.

"Sir!"

His head shot up, eyes blinking owlishly at the annoyed expression of Hawkeye in front of him. He cleared his throat, "Yes, Lieutenant?

"Did you get all of the paperwork done from what happened last night?" she inquired, her tawny eyes scanning the pile of papers on the corner of his desk.

"Yes, Lieutenant, I did." He stood, smoothing the wrinkles on his uniform. He brushed his fingers through his messy hair, smoothing it down. He couldn't seem like he'd just been asleep and woken up. That would look very unprofessional.

"Were you sleeping, Sir?" Hawkeye asked after a moment. 

Roy winced, avoiding her gaze. "Yes, Lieutenant. I didn't get much sleep last night." It was more like zero sleep. He'd been unable to stop seeing Edward's face, and the lingering scent of burnt flesh would send him into nightmares of Ishval whenever he tried to sleep. All around an unpleasant experience. Riza tended to threaten him with violence if he fell asleep without getting a certain amount of work down. 0/10, he wouldn't try again.

Hawkeye's expression momentarily softened before returning to her regular blank face. She sighed. "Permission to speak freely, sir?" she inquired.

Roy nodded, "Permission granted."

Hawkeye nodded, stacking the papers into a neat pile and lining them up. "There was nothing you could've prepared for differently. It is true; he showed up much too early, but there was no way of knowing where he was.

"I punched him, Hawkeye," Roy growled, digging his hands into his eyes. "I punched him in the face and all because he was challenging me. I should've had more control than that."

"Roy, Maes was your best friend. It's a very fresh wound. It will hurt, and I agree, you should've used more control, but your limits are not where they usually are, Sir."

"But that gives me the right to hit him?" Roy snarled.

Hawkeye's expression hardened. "No, Sir, it does not. There will be consequences from that, I'm sure."

Roy sucked in a sharp breath, "What if he hates me, Hawkeye?"

A sad smile appeared on her face. "Then you have to live with it and accept that there's no going back."

Ed's heartbeat out of his chest. His palm sweated, and he could feel beads of sweat on his forehead. This was it; he was about to talk to the bastard, something he really didn't want to have to do. It didn't show, but Ed was terrified.

The blond took a deep breath and opened the office door. Surprisingly, the office was empty of anyone but Hawkeye. She looked up, and Ed winced at the superficial smile on her face.

"He's in his office, Edward." He could feel her eyes on him as he walked into Mustang's inner office, and another pair of eyes fell on him once he shut the door. 

He took a seat on the couch; Ed met Mustang's gaze, heart sinking at the blank look in the man's eyes. Flashes of the previous night raced in his head, and he squeezed his eyes shut and turned away.

Now, as he faced the man, a million things popped up in his head, a million things he wanted to tell him, the betrayal, the hurt, all of it.

He sighed, opening and closing his mouth before landing on the thought he wanted to say most” "I trusted you." He heard Mustang shift, but he continued. "I trusted you for five years against my better judgment. People told me, 'Oh, he's loyal to a fault, and you can trust him,' but why would I trust someone who murdered someone in cold blood and didn't even tell me that one of my close friends just died."

Oh god, his hands were shaking, and his eyes were burning. He desperately wanted to get through this without crying. Mustang would think he was weak if he cried. He took a shuddering breath and pressed his fingers to his eyes.

"Fullー"

"Shut up," Ed thundered, "I am not finished talking."

Mustang's mouth snapped shut.

"You knew how much I cared about Hughes, yet you didn't tell me of his death. Why?" Ed demanded.

"It would've stopped your journey. You need to be looking for Alphonse's body. The two of you can't let anything stop you." 

"That doesn't change the fact that you lied, Colonel!" Ed exploded, breathing heavily. "I cared about him! I cared so much! The man annoyed the hell out of me, but I wouldn't have traded any of that for the world. The only person who ever really cared about me in the military, and he's dead, and it's your fault!"

Ed regretted those words the moment they came out of his mouth, but he was angry, and he needed to vent, so he didn't care if he hurt Mustang. The man deserved it, so it didn't matter that he saw an incredible amount of hurt flash over the man's face. He deserved it.

"Fullmetal I一" 

"And then you go and hit me," Ed interrupted in a low voice. "You were so angry that I had stopped you that you hit me, and you didn't care." Ed's voice cracked, tears now spilling down his face.

"How do you think it feels to have the last person alive that you trust lie to you and then hit you. Not great, huh? But no , you don't care. All that matters to you is your comfortable little promotion and a chance to get complimented by your superiors. You don't care about us; you've never cared . You only cared when I was doing my job and not wrecking things and making your life miserable. You never gave a damn about me those times I opened myself up to you, and, hell, I'm sure you're waiting to use that against me."

Tears were pouring down Ed's cheeks, he sounded hysterical to himself, and he was hysterical if the horrified look on Mustang's face was anything to go by. "What? No defense? Nothing to prove me wrong, to tell me that I'm greatly mistaken?"

Ed pulled a packet out of his coat pocket, throwing it on Mustang's desk. A snarl bubbled in his throat. The man in front of him stared at him wide-eyed like he hadn't been the one who made the last few years of his life a living hell. Ed wanted to punch the man until his flesh fist was bruised and bloody, but he refused to give the man the satisfaction.

Ed was waiting for the man to start laughing, reveal it had been a game in which he'd used Ed as a pawn in moving up the ranks. It would make it so easy to hate the man, not to regret the decision he was making. However, he was sure that anyone would be a better commanding officer than Mustang at this point. He was willing to bet his entire salary.

"T-This is a transfer order?" Mustang dared to look shocked. How pathetic. 

"You can read, can't you?" Ed spat. He balled his fists, glaring daggers at the man's face. He dared Mustang to challenge him after what he'd done.

Mustang sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I don't hate you, Fullmetal." He said it in a resigned, pathetic sort of way. It only made Ed angrier.

"But if it gives you peace of mind. I will sign it." Ed watched as Mustang scribbled his signature on the paper. 

Ed snatched the form back. He would submit it first thing in the morning. 

"I wish you well, Fullmetal." Mustang's voice was quiet, oddly sad, but the man was an actor, so Ed didn't pay attention to it.

"Screw you, Mustang." Ed opened the door and closed it with a hard slam. He crossed the office in only a few steps and walked quickly down the corridor before making his way into the bathroom. Ed slid to the floor and sobbed.

Art by the Amazing Art-and-Jazz

Chapter Text

It was two weeks later when Ed received a yellow packet. There was nothing significant about it; he'd gotten these packets so many times before each mission. This time, however, he stared hard at the writing on the packet. A lump formed in his throat, and he took a deep breath. He reread the front of the packet once more to make sure he was right.

To: Major Edward Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist.

Concerning the change of command.

-  Fuhrer King Bradley

                                                                                                         Art by Netydraws!

There was no reason for him to be nervous, and he distantly realized he was being ridiculous. The thought was overshadowed by the fact that whoever's name was in this envelope would be his commanding officer for the rest of the time he was in the military.

He took another deep breath and opened the envelope. Nothing stood out to him at first, and he frowned as he sorted through each of the documents. What was with the military and prolonging every single thing they did? Finally, the blond reached a document with big bolded letters that said: Change of command .

Ed read over the document; his eyes widened when he got to the end. There was no way. . .his eyes had to be playing tricks on him. He gaped at the document, rereading it to make sure his vision wasn't messed up. There was no way he was this lucky to be placed with THE Raining Lightning alchemist, Colonel Elias Madden.

At thirty-five years old, Elias Madden was considered one of the strongest alchemists in the Amestrian military. He'd been on the front lines of the Amestrian-Auerogonian border war for the better part of five years. Madden was well known for his devastating results, using the humid air of Aerugo to cause storm clouds to coalesce and use his devastating electrical array to take down every enemy single-handedly. Unlike Mustang, Madden got results, and he never dared leave a man behind. 

Madden also had another reputation, rumored as it may be. He was usually a cold, calculating figure, quick whipping those around him into shape. Ed could care less; there was no point in paying attention to any personality other than professional because that's all his relationship with Madden would ever be. There's no point in getting close; he's learned his lesson.

A sound behind him nearly startled him out of his skin. He must've been deep in concentration if he hadn't heard Al coming. Al stopped as soon as he saw Ed's expression and the paper in his hand. "Who'd you get?" he asked.

Ed grinned and held out the paper. "Read it for yourself. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me." Al hummed thoughtfully and took the paper from him. Al was silent for a long few minutes before he squeaked.

"THE Raining Lightning Alchemist? Brother, this is awesome!"

Ed's smile couldn't get any wider. This was great! Once, they told him about Al's body一 oh. Ed deflated a bit. His new commanding officer would need to find out about what had happened to him - about what he did - if they wanted to go on missions to find the Stone.

Sensing Ed's deflating energy, Al placed his hand on his shoulder and knew Ed would speak his mind when he was ready like he always did. A ghost of a smile appeared on Ed's face before it disappeared. Al was such an amazing little brother; where would he be without him? 

"Al." He placed his hand on his brother's chestplate. "If I tell this guy about what we did. . .there's a possibility that he could turn us in." 

Screw possibility; it was almost inevitable that they'd be turned in. It was only by chance that Mustang had been the first to find them. Ed would currently be rotting in prison for the rest of his life while Al was studied, if it had been anyone else. There was no telling what his new commander would do once he found out, which terrified Ed.

But if it was what Al wanted, he'd swallow the terror that built inside him every time he thought of telling anyone other than Mustang. He was fifteen; he was more than old enough to take full responsibility for his actions on that night four years ago. If his new boss were feeling extra merciful, maybe he'd avoid telling the brass, instead choosing to hold it over his head. LIke that bastard had, time and time again.

A touch jostled Ed, and he blinked. Oh, right, he'd asked Al a question.

"Did you hear me, Brother?"

"Sorry, Al. What did you say?"

Al sighed. "I said that I don't want to do anything that would put you in danger, big Brother,"

That halted the anxiety that had been building in him for a long time. But it did nothing for the ever-present guilt. "But. . .don't you want your body back, Al?"

Al shook his head. "I didn't realize you were so dense, Brother."

"Hey!" he protested.

"Do you think that I want you to confess something that could get you put into prison to someone you don't even know?"

Ed's face felt flaming hot. Well, putting it that way. . . he felt foolish and shook his head. 

"So don't worry about me, Brother. You have to do whatever it takes to keep you safe."

"But Alー"

"We'll get my body back eventually, Brother. I don't care as long as you're safe."

Ed didn't say anythingーcouldn't say anything. There was a lump in his throat, and if he said anything, he'd burst into tears. 

"Aww, are you crying, Brother?"

Ed shook his head. He scoffed, "No, there's just dust in my eyes." He wiped away any tears that Al might be able to see. Al was the best brother ever.

The day crawled at a snail's pace and left Ed in a state of nervous excitement. He made a trip to Central command on his own to turn in the paperwork that confirmed his transfer, nearly running into one of Mustang's team members in the process.

Feury was an unexpected sight to see. Wednesdays were usually his day off, so it was odd to see him working. He was pale, looking distressed, and walking like his life depended on it. He was walking so fast that he didn't see Ed until he ran into him, spilling all his papers.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Feury yelped, scrambling to pick up the papers. Ed knelt beside him to pick them up, and Feury nearly jumped out of his skin as if he'd seen a ghost.

"Oh, Ed," he mumbled softly, taking the papers from Ed and slotting them back into the neat stack they'd been in. "Sorry for running into you; the last week has been hectic."

The without you went unsaid. It was no secret that Ed had been an integral member of Team Mustang and had allowed them to get all of their work done faster. If he had to regret anything, he'd regret leaving all the others to drown in paperwork. 

"Nah, it's fine," he brushed off the apology and stood. They both stood awkwardly for a moment before Ed tried to make his escape from the interaction. "Well, I’llーuh I'll see you around. Gotta prepare for tomorrow, y'know?"

Feury chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah, I'll let you get to it. I probably stayed too long anyway; the Colonel will probably wonder where I am with these papers."

"Yeah, I need to get back to Al, so he's not wondering where I'm at," Ed chuckled. He said a quick goodbye around and started making his way down the hallway.

"We miss you in the office, Ed! Come visit us sometime!" Feury yelled. 

Ed nearly stopped in his tracks before he realized he'd be standing frozen in the middle of the hallway, looking like an idiot. It wasn't like he didn't know that the guys would miss him - they'd always been so excited when he and Al showed up to the office -- but it was the first time the realization that he'd be missed by someone really hit him as more than just a mental concept.

Ed wasn't used to being missed by anyone, especially with his personality. Oof, and if that didn't hurt him a little bit, then nothing would've been able to. Yet it did hurt; he didn't expect leaving his old coworkers would hurt this much.

He threw up a hand behind him in a farewell and pushed his hood up before shouldering his way outside and into the pounding rain, heart heavy.

The rain had let up by the following day. The sun shone through the clouds in rays that created rainbows. It was the perfect weather for turning over a new leaf.

Ed stumbled out of bed at 7:30. His orders requested that he be in Madden's office at 10:30, but he was determined to be early. He had no reason not to respect his new commander, unlike Mustang.

He took a quick shower, as fast as he could, with his ports throbbing from the humidity. He grimaced but pushed past it. Nothing would stop him from making it on time to his first day with his new commander.

He braided his hair quickly and made his way to the fridge, where he rummaged around and made himself a quick bite to eat. He glanced at the clock and nearly choked. He was going to be late if he didn’t get going.

He and Al hurried down the sidewalk, nervousness buzzing around in Ed's stomach. That first meeting could determine his relationship with Madden and his team, and, damn, if that didn't scare the hell out of him.

He needed it to go well so badly. Hell, he'd put up with short jokes if the man used them against him just for the sake of not annoying his new boss.

At some point, he was going to have to stop comparing possible interactions between him and his new boss with interactions that had frequently happened with that bastard. 

He came to a stop in front of Central command and balled his hands into fists as he took a deep breath. 

Like ripping a bandaid off, he threw the door open and stomped down the hallway. Nobody besides Al would be able to see the anxiety in his body language. 

There wasn't anything special to the door leading to Elias Madden's office. Yet to Ed, it was an ominous, looming figure. 

He was about to knock on the door when, suddenly, it swung open, and a man came into view with ginger hair and green eyes came into. His eyes widened momentarily before standing at attention in a salute. 

"Major Elric," the man said tensely, "I was just about to come looking for you."

"Uh, at ease, soldier…."

"Rhys Jacobs, sir. First Lieutenant Jacobs at your service, sir."

Ed stood awkwardly still until Lieutenant Jacobs stood out of the way, and Ed could make his entrance.

The office was… standard. With this guy's prestige, he had expected to see awards all over the place. Yet there was none, except something on the desk closest to the window, which he assumed was Madden's.

Four sets of eyes turned to him. The soldier at the closest desk, Sergeant Holly Burns, quickly stood at attention, the others quickly following her lead.

"At ease," he waved. 

"Welcome, Major Elric; we've been hearing that you'd be joining our team," a man with dark brown hair said, Kyle Callahan by the sign on his desk.

Before Ed could respond, a tall man stepped out of the closed office door on the other side of the room.

Ed's breath nearly caught.

If the stories of the man made him seem scary, seeing the man in person was straight-up terrifying. The man had to have at least been 6 feet tall! 

The man had nutmeg skin and blue eyes that seemed to pierce Ed's very soul. Well, eye if he wanted to be accurate. An eyepatch covered the right half of Madden's face, probably hiding an eye that had been lost to a gruesome injury. The man's light brown hair was pulled up into a ponytail, and the scruff at the bottom of his face was neat. He was the image of the perfect soldier.

The man stared at Ed for a minute, as if sizing him up, before he smiled. And the smile threw Ed off because the smile was so genuine and full of kindness, something he'd never seen in Mustang.

"I presume you're Major Elric?" Madden held out his hand, which Ed took and shook.

"Yes, sir. That's me," 

Madden looked past him. "And you must be Alphonse; I've heard a lot about you from Lieutenant Hawkeye."

"Lieutenant Hawkeye?" 

Madden hummed. "The Lieutenant is an old friend from Ishval. I wouldn't have made it out without her. She worked under my command a few months after returning home from there before transferring to Mustang's command."

That was...surprising. It was surprising that he'd never heard Hawkeye mention the man, and even more surprising still since he'd assumed that she and Mustang had been working together since Ishval.

There must have been many things he didn't know about Mustang besides what he'd thought.

Madden chuckled. "Now that that's out of the way, I'd like to talk with you in my office for a bit,"

"Yeah, that'd be great. Would it be alright if Alphonse stayed out here and got acquainted with your subordinates?"

Madden nodded.

Ed followed Madden into his office and stood in the doorway for a moment while Madden rummaged through papers on his desk. He glanced up at Ed and motioned to him to sit. "Make yourself at home. Oh, and close the door behind you,"

Ed took a deep breath before closing the door and sitting on the couch.

Madden was quiet while he read the paper in his hands that contained the transfer request and paperwork on Ed. His eyebrows rose multiple times before he'd squint as if to read a section closer. Ed couldn't tell what was so interesting.

"Well, I'll be damned," the man suddenly said aloud, causing Ed to jump where he sat. Madden cackled hysterically, and Ed was so lost that he couldn't help but stare at the man as if he'd gained two heads. It kind of hurt; nothing on the report was funny. Most of it contained what Mustang did that hurt Ed significantly. How was it anything to laugh at? Ed didn't understand. He glowered.

This part of Madden was like nothing he'd heard in stories. No mention had ever been made of his friendliness or sense of humor. This was not the figure he'd expect to meet at all. Where was the man that struck fear into the heart of his enemies? He'd yet to see that man. 

Maybe he'd been mistaken; perhaps he'd been thinking of another soldier and not this man because this didn't make any sense at all.

What the hell.

Ed's expression must have caught Madden's eye because his laughing quickly ceased when he glanced at Ed's face. He coughed and gave an apologetic smile. "My apologies; I had not intended to laugh."

Ed felt very lost at the man's sudden change.

"You seem surprised by my reaction. You always seem surprised when I find things amusing," Madden commented, before pausing and pinching the bridge of his nose and releasing a sigh. “Ah, don’t tell me, you’ve heard about my reputation,”

"Uh," Ed managed through his surprise, "N-Not that much. J-Just that a lot of people fear you," He winced. Way to sound like a kid, you idiot!

Madden snorted. "I can tell you some of that is true, but most are exaggerations."

Well, that explained why Madden wasn't as cold as the rumors made him out to be.

"Well, that explains a lot," Ed exclaimed, wincing as soon as the words came out of his mouth.

Ed looked away, waiting for the anger, and that is no way to talk to your commanding officer, Fullmetal, but it never came. When he looked back, Madden's eyes were shining with amusement.

Ed cleared his throat. "Ah, anyway, what'd y'find so funny about the report?"

"Ah yes, that." Madden frowned down at the report, reading the rest of it in a quick burst. He suddenly made a sound, and his brows furrowed together as if he had difficulty understanding what he was reading.

"Did you report that he hit you?" Madden inquired. Ed froze, out of all questions he could've asked…

"No," Ed mumbled carefully. He wasn't sure what Madden wanted to hear. "They wouldn't have taken it seriously anyway. Mustang's a pro at smooth-talking," 

Madden's lips formed into a hard line, and his expression turned pensive. "Was he like this your entire time with him?" Any amusement from minutes before had slipped away, and that intimidating air along with ice blue eyes probed him for answers.

It was another odd question to ask. Ed was unsure why his new commander was so curious. It wasn't like he could do anything. "No. Not until recently. It was sudden. . .he. . .well, something happened." Ed cut himself off before he could get choked up.

The memory of Hughes was painful, and he didn't want to burst into tears over the thought of him randomly.

"Can I ask what happened?" 

Madden's voice was gentle, soft, which was odd because he hadn't even known the man for twenty minutes. 

Why the hell was he so gentle? He was a colonel in the military! He needed to be commanding! He shouldn't be speaking to Ed like he was going to break like a piece of glass. It annoyed him. If anything, he was not fragile!

"Nah, it's not anything that relates to this," Ed brushed it off like it wasn't something he thought about before going to sleep every night.

Madden's eyes hardened just a little, and he opened his mouth. Ed prepared himself to be scolded, but the man's mouth snapped shut, and the mirth returned to his eyes. Ed shook himself; they'd gotten way off track cause what the hell.

"Anyways, you're probably wondering about your assignments, am I correct?" 

Ed nodded. He hoped that he wouldn't get anything boring.

"I'd like to keep you on desk duty for a little while." Ed opened his mouth to protest. "Just until I see how your paperwork measures up to your fieldwork. It's good to be well rounded."

And EdーEd had no protest to that. It, unfortunately, made a lot of sense. He could tell just by briefly meeting Madden's subordinates. They seemed to run like a well-organized machine. It was awful that he couldn't find anything to protest about.

Yet it was exciting.

Ed's mind blanched at that: but why? He'd never been excited to be in Mustang's command, no matter how much they appeared to enjoy his company. Mustang didn't ask if he was doing alright often, and he usually would brush Ed's concerns off to the side.

"That's understandable; I'd like to get to know your team,"

Madden smirked. "Welcome to the team, Fullmetal."

The following two months were. . .interesting, to say the least. When he wasn't doing errands or paperwork for Colonel Madden, he attempted to help Madden's team. Like Mustang's team, they seemed to share a crucial brain cell. In this case, Major Callahan, Madden's adjutant, mostly had all of it.

He reminded Ed of Hawkeye quite a bit. He had a similar calm personality, and rarely did he show anything more than a blank face, and Ed would have given anything to see even a single expression on the man's face.

Lieutenant Jacobs, Sergeant Burns, Major Hayes, and Lieutenant Clarke showed a bit more emotion. They showed more of their unprofessional side as Ed got to know them. Sergeant Burns, in particular, was someone Ed grew to like very much.

She reminded him of Mom. It became more noticeable when she talked about her kids; how little Cameron was nearly a year old, and her daughter Alex was in her first year of high school. She also reminded him a lot of Hughes when she showed him pictures of her daughters, eyes shining with love.

Even Al came to like everyone on the team, which wasn't surprising. It wasn't hard to get on Al's good side. 

Ed almost always rolled his eyes when the man brought that up.

But the most confusing person had to be Colonel Madden. Most of the man's reputation as a cold, chilling figure didn’t fit him at all, yet he was one of the most loyal people Ed had ever met, according to the stories his subordinates told of him.

"Just wait until the unit is assigned a raid together; he gets crazy scary," Sergeant Burns had said one day after Ed's curious prodding. He wondered what that meant, because Madden tended to throw his feet back on his desk and do his paperwork on a clipboard. It felt like the man Sergeant Burns was speaking about was a completely different person than the one currently at the desk.

Ed plopped his paperwork onto the desk, but Madden still stared at the paperwork on the clipboard. He was squinting at it as if offended by it. Whatever it is, it seemed to be incredibly important. Ed cleared his throat and waited a minute, but Madden still didn’t acknowledge him. Ed rolled his eyes and fought the rising annoyance because surely whatever was on that paper couldn’t be any more important than all of the other paperwork he asked Ed to complete. 

Five minutes later, Ed was ready to tear the paper out of Madden's hands. He opened his mouth to speak, to say something that would catch the man's attention, but Madden jolted and jumped out of the seat.

"I'll be back in thirty minutes," he said quickly to Sergeant Burns, before basically running out the door and closing it loudly behind him.

Colonel Madden was gone far longer than he said he would be. It was enough time for Ed and the rest of the team to finish up their paperwork and for Ed to consider taking the rest of the day off to meet Al in the library.

"I think you're going to see how his reputation proceeds him," Sergeant Burns said at one point when Ed was trying to finish the paperwork. He acknowledged her with a grunt.

Madden came back two hours after he left, looking ruffled. Something was wrong, but Ed didn't get the opportunity to ask. The man retreated into his office, but not before whispering something to Major Callahan, who paled. 

Colonel Madden was in his office for a good thirty minutes before he came out and motioned for Ed to follow him inside. Ed frowned. Something had to have been wrong because there was a grave expression on his face.

Ed sat on the couch and tried to get comfortable, but it wasn't easy with the man pacing back and forth. It was putting Ed on edge. Suddenly, Madden paused and glanced at Ed. There was turmoil in his eyes as if he was fighting with what to say, and maybe he was. 

Finally, he breathed a deep sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "The brass has a mission for you." Ed straightened, waiting for more.

"Five weeks ago, a team of Briggs soldiers was patrolling the border. There'd been evidence that Drachman’s were preparing something. We didn't know what, but we knew it was trouble. The patrol was ordered to go into Drachma and find out whatever they were planning but. . .we lost contact fifty miles in Drachma." Madden paused, looking grave, but he continued.

"State Alchemist Simon Rivers was sent out in the field after them and to learn the Drachman secrets, or whatever the people were suspected of doing and. . .it isn't good. There are camps that the original patrol must've run into. Major Rivers spoke of hundreds of sites where soldiers into the thousands are being housed. Rivers fears that they're attempting to invadeー."

"That's impossible!" Ed exclaimed. "The border is patrolled day and night for hundreds of miles; how is it possible that this was missed on these patrols?"

Madden looked grave. "It is believed that there may be moles close to General Armstrong, but they've yet to be found."

"What does any of this have to do with me?" Ed asked, confused.

Madden sighed. "The brass wants you to rendezvous with Major Rivers close to where he's working undercover, where he'll give you information on these camps and if these prisoners are still being kept alive."

Ed nodded. He was excited. This would be his first real mission on Madden's team!

Except, as if sensing his excitement, Madden frowned. "I offered to go in your place,"

Ed bristled. What the hell! What was he thinking?

"What the hell," Ed snarled. His eyes narrowed at the man in front of him.

"It's dangerous, Edward. Many things can happen,"

"I don't care; I don't need anyone to protect me, Madden,"

Madden sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

"Plus, they wanted me in the first place. There's not much you can keep me from going," Ed challenged.

It was so old at this point. He was sick of adults trying to protect him. How long would it take for them to realize he was no longer a child?

"You're right," Madden said after a moment of silence. He sighed and sat behind his desk. 

"I assume there's nothing I can do to change your mind?" Madden enquired. 

Ed shook his head fiercely. He could do this; he'd prove himself to Madden, and maybe then he'd be sent on more missions. It was the perfect way for Madden to see if he was capable!

"Alright," Madden murmured. He stuck out a yellow packet from where it'd laid on his desk. It looked heavy, full of precious information.

"You will leave for Briggs in five days, and from there, you will receive more orders," Ed nodded.

"There is something that I ask of you for however long you're in Briggs,"

"What do you want me to do?" 

"Every day at noon, contact Briggs for a check-in. The Drachman landscape is unforgiving, and the wildlife will kill you if given the opportunity."

Ed opened his mouth to protest, but Madden cut him off.

"This is non-negotiable, Fullmetal. You will do this, or you won't be going at all." And with that, the intimidating air appeared in Madden's voice. Ed fought to keep from trembling as Madden's usually unnoticeable looming personality reappeared.

Ed quickly nodded in agreement, and Madden relaxed back in his chair. Madden nodded to himself. "That's all, Fullmetal. I'll inform you of more tomorrow after you've read the material in the packet."

Ed mustered a quick "Thanks" before fleeing from Madden's inner office and to his desk.

Sergeant Burns grinned at him. "Scary, right?"

Yeah, he was scary as hell.

The next few days passed quickly but also slowly simultaneously if one could imagine that. Ed packed and prepared for the trip to Briggs. Unfortunately, due to how big he was and the landscape, Al would be unable to go on this mission with him.

Ed understood, but it was still disappointing. Al rarely didn’t go on missions with him, but he understood Madden’s reasoning. 

The morning of, Al accompanied Ed to the train station in quiet. Madden insisted that he make the trip to Briggs with him, to Ed’s ire. He didn’t know what the man was so worried about; he’d be fine. He’d done missions like this before. There was nothing to worry about.

Madden arrived at the station fifteen minutes before the train was set to leave. He looked as if he’d just woken up, and his hair, usually so neat, looked as if it’d barely been brushed. Ed had to withhold a snicker.

Madden groaned and ambled his way onto the train, digging through his pockets to show the worker his ticket. Ed rolled his eyes and turned to say goodbye to Al.

“Tell me you’ll be careful, Brother. You know I worry about you.”

“C’mon, you know me, I’m the most careful person ever,” Ed grinned cheekily.

“Sure, and I’m Lieutenant Hawkeye,”

Ed pouted. “Ok, ok, I’ll be careful.” Ed knocked his automail hand against Al’s chestplate. “I’ll be back before you know it, and if you need me and can’t get up with me, you can call the bastard on the train.”

Al pulled Ed into a hug.

Ed buried his face in his shoulder plate and breathed. He was going to miss his brother no matter what he said.

Ed tried to pull away, but Al still held on. “You can let me go now, Al,”

Al let out a metallic sound that closely resembled a sigh and pulled away. He ruffled Ed’s hair to his protest of “Hey.”

“I want you to call me when you get there, tell me what it’s like. I haven’t seen snow in ages.”

Ed nodded. “I promise.” Al nodded once and pushed him to the threshold.

“Be safe, Brother.”

“I will, Al, I promise.”

Ed stepped onto the train and settled into his seat beside Colonel Madden.

Ed sniffed, blinking away excess moisture from his eyes before Madden could see.

“The two of you are very close,” Madden said, suddenly. Ed glanced at him. He was surprised by the soft expression on Madden’s face.

“Yeah, we’re only a year apart; I’d do anything for him,”

“As would I for my brother.” Madden smiled. He got a faraway look in his eye for a moment before turning his attention back to Ed.

“Are you close? With your brother, that is?” Ed asked

“We once were, but we had a falling out; I’m not sure where he is now.”

“Maybe you’ll find him one day,” Ed encouraged.

Madden nodded. “I hope one day we can, and we make amends.”

They fell into the silence after that, only broken by the sound of the horn.

Ed waved from the window to Al, voice yelling goodbyes getting lost in the wind. 

Chapter Text

Briggs was so freaking cold! Ed shoved the hood of his coat further down, but it did very little to help him. Beside him, Madden did the same. He didn’t appear to be as cold as Ed, but that was because he didn’t have automail.

The automail was another matter as well. His ports ached with a vengeance, and Ed desperately wanted to get to the outpost where it was warm, and he could put a warm compress on his ports before the mission began.

“How much longer until they meet us?” Ed yelled over the snow.

He could barely see his commanding officer through the white that was all around them, but he was able to make out the long brown hair blowing behind him. “About now; we got here earlier than them!” Madden yelled back, and Ed was barely able to make out what he said.

There was a sudden loud sound over the roaring snow, and then there was a massive figure beside him. Later, Ed would swear that he did not scream. Ed jumped, nearly colliding with the Madden. The man was huge , even larger than Colonel Madden!

“Major Elric, Colonel Madden, I presume!” the large man yelled. 

“That’s us!” Madden yelled.

Ed could barely see the man nod through the snow in his eyes.

“Follow me!”

The compresses felt terrific. Ed sighed and relaxed onto the bed in his temporary quarters. His ports ached with a vengeance, and he was undoubtedly going to be feeling it tomorrow, but he didn’t care at the moment.

His eyes traced the room until they landed on the packet with all the information about the mission. He’d yet to read it. He groaned long and loud and forced his way into a sitting position and then to his feet.

The leg port suddenly stung sharply, causing a hiss to slip out of him. The skin was angry and inflamed, and when this was all over, Winry was going to give him a beating for mistreating his automail after she’s told him time and time again to make sure he didn’t get too cold.

Ed’s fingers were still too frozen to easily pick up the packet, but he managed anyway, fighting to ignore the numbness and tingling. He dumped the contents on the bed and shifted through it. He came across a picture of a man. At first, he brushed past it, but something caught his eye. 

The picture was of a man in Drachman military uniform. He was facing the camera, seemingly staring at it, but the picture taker must’ve been very well hidden as the man’s face showed no alarm. His eyes were a bright blue, and he was pale-skinned, and very tall. A scar ran from the bridge of his nose and down his cheek. 

The picture was weathered as if taken long ago, and Ws could barely make out a name. After a moment of staring, he was finally able to put it together: General Tikhon Orlov. Ed’s eyes traced the rest of the picture. He could not understand what his brain had deemed as significant until his eyes landed on the man’s arm and all of the oxygen seemed to leave the room. Around the man’s left wrist was a gold-lined bracelet with a red stone. To the regular eye, it would’ve probably looked like a ruby or another red gem. But Ed had been looking for this stone for years. He took a breath. That was it. It was the Philosopher’s Stone.

Ed stared at the picture of the man for hours. He finally squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to relieve the burning, but to no avail. He allowed the image to flutter out of his hand and drop onto the bed. As if the strength left his body, he flopped back onto the bed after it. 

Someone knocked on the door. He ignored it. The knocking only continued until it got so annoying that Ed finally yelled, “Come in.”

Ed raised his hands to his face, pressing down against his eyes. He had a pounding headache, but that’s what he got for staring at a stupid picture for three hours while barely blinking at all.

“Didn’t see you down at the mess, figured I’d bring you up some dinner,” a voice said, and shit!

He slowly raked his flesh hand down his face and stared through his fingers at the man. Madden was staring at him with concern. He’d sat the plate down on his bedside table and straddled the chair from the desk.

“Y’ don’t have to sit here and make sure I eat,” Ed grumbled, returning to stare at the ceiling.

“I know, but I can check on a subordinate when I’m worried about them,” Madden responded. 

That put Ed on edge in an unexplainable way. Maybe it was the sheer concern in his voice or the softness of his ice-blue eyes, but Ed couldn’t stand it.

Snarling, Ed pulled himself into a sitting position, ignoring the way his ports screamed. “What are you playing at? There’s something you want, I can tell. Go ahead and ask,” Ed snapped.

Ed was sick of it. Sick of how Madden smiled whenever Ed dropped a report, no matter how bad it was, and how he gently told him what he needed to improve on if he wanted to improve as a soldier ( Ed didn’t want to be a soldier ), and just all the caring crap in general.

Why did the bastard give a damn?

Madden didn’t seem to take offense at the anger in Ed’s voice. He said, “You don’t think I know what it’s like to be like you from a young age?”

Ed glowered at him. How were they the same? They were completely different people. Madden held his hands up in a sign of surrender. “When I was thirteen, my mother was killed right in front of me.”

Ed glanced up at him in surprise. “Yeah. . .I read your file, Edward. There’s a little bit about your early life.” Madden smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes at all.

“Anyways, yeah, she was killed in front of me. Bank robbery. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Her body slowed the bullet, but it cut clean through my radial artery in my left arm.”

Madden’s eyes grew distant. Ed glanced down at his arm; it had to have been unimaginably painful. “I don’t remember what happened next, but I think. . .I think a good samaritan stopped the blood flow best they could. It didn’t help anything though,”

“You meanー”

“Yeah, the doctors did everything they could to try and save my arm. They said nothing short of a miracle would’ve saved my arm,” Madden was somber. He pulled the glove off his left hand. The metal glinted in the dull light.

“I went through automail surgery at fifteen, got through it in two years.” Madden chuckled, “My mechanic told me that I was the most damned determined person he’d ever met.”

It was painful for Madden to tell this story. His jaw clenched tight, knuckles tightened, but he must’ve wanted Ed to know.

“But, yeah, I just wanted you to know that you’re not alone in this, Edward, no matter how much you think you are.”

And what type of rebuttal could Ed have given that?

“Wait,” he managed.

Ed could feel his resolve to keep his and Al’s secret begin to crumble. Madden seemed like an alright guy, loyal and caring. 

But. . .

“How do you feel about Human Transmutation?” the blond blurted out. Shit!

Madden blinked owlishly. What a way to make him suspicious of you. Madden scratched the back of his head and opened and shut his mouth a few times before furrowing his brow. “Well, I know it’s something an alchemist shouldn’t ever do. As I’ve understood it, it never works and always leads to something bad happening,” The man floundered a moment more before asking, “Why do you ask?”

Ed took a deep breath. Well, here goes.

“When I was eleven and my brother ten, we committed Human Transmutation. We thought. . .I don’t even know what we thought, but we thought we could bring our mother back. Al we wanted was her back. . .”

It took a second to realize that he was trembling, automail shaking, and rattling hard. Madden’s face was blank of any emotion. “We were just kids who thought we could do anything, that the rules didn’t apply to usー.”

“Is that why your brother looks like that?” Madden blurted, interrupting Ed. Ed looked down at his hands and nodded. 

“When it happened, his soul was taken. I didn’t want to lose him; I refused to. I had lost so much blood at that point, but I didn’t care how much I lost as long as I got my brother back.”

There were tears in his eyes. He’d been so close to grabbing Al’s hand. . .

“I lost my leg as the toll; I got off light, from what I’ve heard. I gave up my arm to get Al’s soul back. That suit of armor was the only thing I could think of to put him. I wish it’d been me.”

Ed sniffed, quickly wiping away tears. He was pathetic, crying in front of a commanding officer who would probably tell the brass and get him thrown in jail after this. 

“I know I passed out after that. I woke up in my best friend’s house, down two limbs and in so much pain that I had to be kept sedated for a good three days. That was until Colonel Mustang barged in.”

“Colonel Mustang?”

Ed nodded.

“Yeah, he said later that there’d been rumors of talented alchemists in the area; me and my brother,” Ed chuckled. “Thought were adults instead of kids. He was furious when he found me. Grabbed me by my shirt and shook me. At that point, I had nothing left; I was just waiting for someone to find me and throw me in prison for the left of my life. At least that would be some justice.” His voice trembled.

“He did what!” Madden exclaimed.

Ed’s head flew up; he was shocked at the outraged expression on Madden’s face. 

Out of all the things Madden could’ve been angry about through this story, it was the part with Mustang? That was weird.

“Yeah, he picked me up and shook some sense into me. If it weren’t for him, I’d probably be wasting away in Resembool with nothing to look forward to.” At least that was something he could thank Mustang for. He would always be thankful that he wasn’t wasting away in Resembool or some prison in Central. 

Madden’s brow was furrowed. “You were eleven, and he shook you like you were nothing more than a bag of trash?” There was a hard edge in Madden’s voice and a dangerous glint in his eyes.

Ed shrugged. 

“Anyway, you can throw me into prison if you want. I deserve it. It’s something I shouldn’t have messed with. For what it’s worth, I’m so sorry.”

Ed pressed his hands over his eyes so Madden wouldn’t see his tears grow heavier. He gritted his teeth to stop the sob, but it burst out of him like glass. Oh god, what had he done? He’d just spilled his greatest secret to a man he didn’t even know two months ago. 

But some part of him felt relieved that someone other than Mustang now knew his secret. He was glad it was Madden, especially after the man shared something deeply personal with him. Maybe Madden would understand him because he was an alchemist as well but that was a big ‘if’. 

Madden’s voice broke over his loud thoughts. “Deep breaths; take a deep breath, Ed.” The blond listened. It took a couple of minutes, but he managed to get his breathing under control. The man’s hand was on his shoulder. It was surprisingly grounding. 

They sat in silence together for a bit before Ed wiped at his face. Madden wasn’t looking at him; thankfully; he was staring at his boots. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for you to listen to my sob story. It’s probably not going to change your mind.”

“Change my mind?” Ed hated that his commanding officer sounded so confused.

“Yeah, change your mind to tell the brass, get me court-martialed, thrown in jail, all of that. I get it; I’ve run from this for too long not to face repercussions now.”

Had to be strong; he couldn’t show Madden how much he hurt, how broken he was, how he’d likely never fully recover from what they did in the basement, but he’d try the best he could. All he could do was try; he’d been doing that ever since mom died.

God, he missed her.

“Edward, I want you to look at me.” 

There was an angry fire in Madden’s eyes, but it also didn’t appear that Madden was mad at him, which didn’t make sense.

“Who told you that you’d be thrown in prison?” 

“Mustang,” the blond mumbled.

Madden growled. “So I see that piece of shit hasn’t changed one bit..”

Ed tilted his head.

What? All of this was so confusing? It didn’t make sense why he was so mad, and he was angry at Mustang as if he’d knew him personally? Mustang had never mentioned the man in all the time he worked for him. Maybe they’d worked together long ago?

But what did Madden mean when he said that Mustang hadn’t changed? Of course, Mustang was an inconsiderate bastard who did as he pleased. But the people closest to him never made mention of his personality. Surely Hawkeye wouldn’t be a constant companion at his side if she thought he was a horrible human being.

And, damn. Why was he defending that man to himself?

When did you get so forgiving?

He hadn’t forgiven the bastard, probably wouldn’t for a very long time, but it was hard not to care after everything Mustang had done for him despite how much of a bastard he was.

As if sensing all of Ed’s questions, Madden sighed and said, “We knew each other a long time ago.”

Oh, that made more sense. 

“Listen to me, kid, and listen well. I’m only going to say this once,” 

Ed nodded furiously. Well, this is it, Madden’s decision to tell the brass or not.

“You cannot be thrown in prison for Human Transmutation based on word of mouth. There has to be evidence; a crime scene. There is barely even a precedent set for crimes like these; they’re so rare.”

“Butー.”

“What happened to the area where you committed this?” Madden asked.

“My brother and I burned it down.”

“You have your answer right there,” Madden said as if it was a ‘gotcha’ moment.

“But I should’ve known better,” Ed tried in a small voice. His brow was drawn, and his eyes were stuck on the floor. He’d carried the shame off what he’d done for so long now that he didn’t know how to just act like he was alright because he wouldn’t get punished.

“We all should’ve known better about something at one time or another.”

“Why do you care so much? You barely even know me and don’t say it's because ‘I care for all my subordinates’ shit that you always say.” 

“The first day you walked into my office, you looked like you needed a friend, kid.”

AーA friend?

Ed didn’t need friends. He’d never had friends before joining the military; he didn’t need any now.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I don’t need any friends.” 

Madden shrugged, and how was he so calm?

“Ok, a role model, whatever; you need someone to look after you. You don’t seem to have had that in a long time.”

And that. . .was true. Sure, Mustang had shown he cared about them by letting them stay over when they had no place to go and offered leads on the Stone, but it was like jumping through hoops to get those loops. Mustang made everything so hard on him all the time. Nothing could ever be easy.

And the man never did a thing to show he disrespected Ed, but he never stopped teasing the blond on the things that made him uncomfortable, such as the time he nearly had a panic attack at a yearly physical because of a needle. He panicked when he saw needles, and it didn’t help that Mustang teased him.

So yeah, maybe Mustang wasn’t the worst role model, but he sure as hell wasn’t a good one. 

“I don’t need someone to look after me. I can take care of myself.”

Madden sighed. “Ok, but if there’s anything I can do for you, let me know.”

With that, the man left, softly shutting the door, leaving Ed to his thoughts.

The next morning was freaking freezing, and Ed was exhausted. He hadn’t slept after Madden left his room, but, thankfully, he had enough sense to eat what Madden had initially gone to his room to bring.

Ed made his way to the briefing room half asleep and nearly ran into another soldier. He uttered a quick apology before detouring to the mess and grabbing a mug of coffee, and downing it in one gulp.  He grabbed another cup and swallowed it as well.

After the two cups, he finally felt awake enough to appear in the briefing room without Armstrong yelling at him to get himself into shape. He slumped into a chair beside Madden, who was resting his face on his hands, eyes slitted.

Oddly, he was not watching the people trickle in like Ed; his eyes remained on Armstrong, who was on the other side of the room speaking with Major Miles, who was writing hurriedly on a clipboard.

“Wonder if she’d kill me if I asked her out,” Madden remarked out the blue.

Ok. . .

“Probably,” Ed stated. That was a weird thing to ask a subordinate.

Madden shrugged. 

Madden looked as if he was about to say something when Armstrong turned from the Major and cleared her throat. Silence immediately fell throughout the room as everyone gave General Armstrong their undivided attention.

“I would like to thank you all for getting here on such short notice,” she began, “I know these past few weeks have been strange, but now that we know that those snow bastards are up to something, we can do something about it.”

Her blue gaze traveled around the room, stalling on Ed and Madden momentarily, before continuing. “We have some of the most talented alchemists in this room, along with the arrival of the Flame Alchemist tomorrow. The Fullmetal Alchemist will rendezvous with Major Rivers twenty miles over the border, where he will receive information on the patrol and the Drachmans’ plans. The area where he leaves will be patrolled day and night. Do what needs to be done -  contact the rest of your teams, I don’t care - but be ready in two days,”

Ed sat back in his chair. That was a lot to take, in but not as much as the news that Mustang would be here tomorrow. What was he supposed to do when he saw him? He still felt the phantom pain of the bruise that Mustang left on his cheek. 

Well, he’d just have to get over the awkwardness. They were all soldiers for crying out loud; he had worked in more awkward situations before, so he could work through this as well.

He was more than old enough to act cordial and polite in an uncomfortable situation. 

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was going to be a long mission.

The next afternoon, Ed could feel pent-up energy flowing in his veins. He paced his room for a little while, but that did nothing for him. Growling, he peeled off his red coat and black jacket and headed to the training room, wearing a black tank top and blue shorts.

Sparring was usually something that burned up his energy, but there was no Al to spar with, and he was sure as hell not going to ask anyone else to spar with him.

He sighed; a punching bag will work the same as well.

He spent the next hour blowing off steam and practicing on the punching bag. If it had been human, it would’ve for sure needed medical help. The blond swiped at the sweat dripping into his eyes, growling. Still full of pent-up energy, he pretended the punching bag was Mustang. Definitely not a good idea to imagine a punching bag as your former commanding officer you hate when you’re still so full of pent-up energy.

He punched the bag with his automail, snarling, and then did it again. Having taken one too many punches, it flew off whatever was holding it and landed a few feet away. Ed was panting heavily, sides heaving as he glared hard at the punching bag for what felt like an eternity before flopping onto the training mat.

His tank top clung uncomfortably to him with sweat, and he probably looked like a sight if his hair looked as bad as it felt, sweat clinging to the hair on his temples. Suddenly, there was a shadow over him, and Madden was staring down at him with a perplexed expression on his face.

“Uh, you good, kid?”

He was great, better than great, actually, but that was probably the endorphins talking. He was bound to have body aches for days after the two hours of hitting the punching bag.

“Yeahー.” Pant “Totally great.” Pant. 

Madden held out his hand for him to take, and it took a moment or two of blinking on Ed’s part to realize what he was doing. 

“How long you been down here?” Madden inquired.

Ed couldn’t remember how long he’d been down here fighting a one-sided battle against the punching bag. It had to have been at least two hours, maybe three; it was all blurry, really.

He shrugged. “Once I get focused, I tend to lose track of time,”

Madden huffed a laugh. He picked up the punching bag and placed it back on the hook before turning to Ed. “See, when I train with these, they usually end up in a pile of debris and smoke. Lighting and all.” He waved around his automail hand.

Oh! He’d meant to ask Madden about his alchemy. He’d still not done that yet. There’d never been enough time with how much paperwork he had to fill out and all.

“Is that because of your array?” He tried to ask subtly, but it sounded way too excited.

Wow, what a way to sound like a fan, Ed.

Madden stared at his own automail hand for a moment before holding it out. The array was as fascinating as it was confusing. There was the upward bisected triangle, the inside of the upper part of the triangle consisting of the symbol mercury. He presumed that was for friction. Electricity couldn’t be conducted without friction. It was still confusing even though Ed had mastered all of his alchemical symbols long ago.

“There’s air and friction, but how do you get that to result in electricity?”

“Can’t tell you that,” Madden smirked. “It’s a secret.” 

Ed pouted.

“Even I don’t have a full understanding over it. My master taught me what he knew, but he didn’t teach me everything,” Madden shrugged.

“Maybe it’s a good thing that you don’t know everything. Lessens the destruction,” Ed suggested.

And maybe he was thinking of Mustang’s alchemy, because nobody should be able to use alchemy that powerful at full strength, and maybe Ed would become a hypocrite one day. Still, he’d never use alchemy that powerful to commit destruction on a massive scale.

“Perhaps.” And Madden looked contemplative.

The mess is busy when he was finally able to eat dinner. There were soldiers from all over the country for the mission. He picked a seat in the corner of the mess where he could overlook the entire area. It was cold, but he hunched over in his seat and ate his food quietly.

Everything was fine. Or it was fine until the mess went quiet, and Roy Mustang was standing with a tray in the middle of the mess with Hawkeye by his side.

Ohshitohshitohshitohshit.

He hunched further in his seat and pulled his hood over his face. His mind was racing a thousand miles an hour. Knowing that Mustang would be coming wasn’t the same as seeing the man in person. It dredged up all the shit Ed was trying to bury and laid it bare in front of him.

His heart began to pound, and his mind continued to race. He had to get out of here before Mustang saw him and tried to approach him. Carefully, he stood, skirting the outer edges of the wall. He glanced back over in Mustang’s general direction, finding him sitting at a table with other officers. Mustang appeared to be focused on what they were saying. 

Slowly and surely, he crept towards the back doors. He had no idea where they’d put him out, but anything was better than running into Mustang. He climbed two flights of stairs, went through a set of doors, and took a left before he realized that he had no idea where he was at. 

“Are you lost?” a sudden voice asked.

Ed nearly jumped out of his skin.

He spun around quickly, preparing to see some random soldier, but it was only Hawkeye.

Hawkeye.

Oh damn, Hawkeye!

“O-Oh, h-hey, Hawkeye, long time no see,” He stammered. His face burned hot. This was so embarrassing.

She gave him a small smile. “Hello, Edward.”

“Were you following me, or did you intend to go this way?” Ed asked.

“Well, I saw you were soliciting yourself at the very back of the cafeteria and saw you make your way here, and I was curious as to why you were heading to the barracks that housed women,” she admitted.

Ed turned as red as a tomato.

He floundered, looking for an explanation. 

Hawkeye chuckled.

“Come on; I can help you find your room if you’d like,” she offered.

“Sure.” 

She led them back to the stairs, where they climbed three more flights and around a corner before she stopped. 

“Thanks,” he murmured.

She placed a hand on his shoulder. “You wouldn’t have been soliciting against the back wall if you weren’t trying to avoid someone, am I correct?”

He avoided her eyes. How was she so great at knowing everything?

“Was trying to avoid the bastard.” He scratched the back of his head.

Hawkeye’s eyes softened. “Edward, there’s something youー.”

“Gotta go, Lieutenant; gotta prepare for tomorrow’s briefing.”

She sighed. “Don’t be a stranger, Edward; my room is 4911. Come by if there’s anything that you need. I don’t care how late it is.”

He walked quietly down the hallway, throwing his hand over his shoulder in farewell, feeling Hawkeye’s eyes on him all the way to his room.

The next morning, his body was sluggish and achy from the exercise the day before. He pushed himself up and dressed quickly. The whole base felt the same way as he made his way into the briefing room.

He settled himself into a random chair close to the front of the room. Eventually, Hawkeye sat down beside him, and he smiled politely at her. He vaguely wondered why she wasn’t by Mustang’s side before his attention was drawn to General Armstrong watching the last soldiers filing in.

With the last soldiers now sitting, Armstrong cleared her throat. ”I’ll make this short,” she announced. “There will be five teams consisting of twenty members each who will take each patrol the border in three-hour intervals. I do not care if you have a small suspicion that something is going wrong. Tell your patrol leader. Nothing is everything here. Am I understood?”

A chorus of “Yes, Sir” echoed around the room. “Good, I’m glad we all have an understanding then. Major Miles has your patrols laid out on this table here,” she gestured to the table beside her. “If there are any issues, please take them up with Major Miles. Other than that, prepare to leave in an hou.,”

With that, General Armstrong dismissed everyone.

The soldiers began to move around, gathering into their teams. 

Armstrong approached him as quietly as a cat. “I don’t think I’ve properly thanked you for joining this mission so late, so thank you, Fullmetal Alchemist.”

“No problem,” he squeaked.

“Let me escort you to the barracks. Our scientists are filling a bag for you to take with you that has everything you need to survive the cold and get back in one piece.”

He followed her down the multitude of steps. It grew colder and colder the farther they descended, but it appeared not to affect Armstrong.

The scientists jumped to attention the moment they entered the room before Armstrong told them to relax.

Ed stood awkwardly for a moment before a scientist handed a bag to him. It was a good size, but it didn’t appear to be too heavy. He muttered a quick “Thanks.”

“Patrol Alpha is gathered in the mess,” she told him, “They will escort you to the border to make sure there aren’t any surprise attacks/”

He headed back up the steps, listening to the sounds of the air conditioner and his mind. He was greeted by many faces when he got there, including the blank-faced Mustang and the welcoming look of Hawkeye.

He took a deep breath, burying the turmoil in his chest before walking up to Mustang and holding out his hand. “Mustang,” he greeted.

Mustang glanced down at his hand then took it. “Fullmetal.” His voice was free of any emotion.

“Perfect day for a mission.”

“Yes. It is.”

Mustang glanced around the group. “Gentlemen, a pleasure to work with you.” This was met by a nod from the rest of the squad. With everything ready to go, Miles led them out of the compound and followed them closely before waving them off.

Everything was quiet save for the falling snow and the raspiness of breath. Slowly the land gave way to steep, sharp rocks, and Ed knew they were at the border. 

He stood on the border between this world and the next, not glancing back as he headed into the void.

Chapter Text

Ed’s ports are aching by the time he stops to rest for the night. His ports are aching with a vengeance, but thankfully, his coat keeps out the worst of the cold. He bends in the snow, panting and shivering, looking for a spot to set up his portable tent.

It takes a while due to his shaking flesh hand, but he gets it up in record time. The tent isn’t huge, just big enough to fit him and anything he’s carrying. It comes with a built-in little portable heater. He tugs the bag into the tent beside him and finally zips the entrance shut from the outside world.

He messed around with the little heater, getting it on the perfect setting before he goes looking for the food in his bag. He frowned at the food he found and groaned; of course, they’d packed him rations that he would rather die than usually eat, but he’d need his strength, so he’d eat them anyway.

He unzipped the tent and settled into the threshold when he finished eating. The light of the full moon shines through the plain. It was oddly melancholy, the wind quietly whistling through the trees, the distant sounds of small animals. Wolves howled from far off, alerting each other to a fresh kill. Bugs cried, echoing through the thin brush.

It was the most peace and quiet they’d had in months.

Ed sighed, breath misting out in front of him. No, this was the closest to peace he’s had in years. The time spent in libraries or Resembool didn’t count; there was always an end, always a time he’d have to go, never staying longer than a few days.

I just want to go home.

The thought surprised a flinch out of him. Home? He didn’t have a home, lost that right the moment he’d lost his little brother’s body. What right did he have even to want a home? Al deserved one more than him, but that didn’t stop the lump from rising in his throat and the way his face warmed. What right did he have to any happiness?

He’d. . .He’d been sort of happy being in Mustang’s team. Even if he tried to deny it to himself, he felt welcomed there; they wanted him there, loved including him in things like inviting him out to dinner each Friday night even though he could rarely go, slightly missing the way Hawkeye would greet them, eyes flashing with sympathy before the emotion disappeared just as quickly when they still hadn’t found the stone.

He just wanted that form of happiness again. He froze, shit , speaking of Mustang, he needed to contact them, let them know he’d gotten settled for the night. He pulled out the communication device. It was weird, looking like a phone yet not like a phone at the same time. He flipped it open, that’s pretty cool, and looked down at the keypad and typed out the numbers written down on the piece of paper that would send him to the right channel. From there, he typed out his message in morse code using dots from the keyboard. It looked awkward, but it would do. With the message sent, he flopped back onto the cot and stared at the ceiling, willing his brain to sleep.

 The next few days were slow and exhausting. Ed made good progress, only slowing down for snacks and resting a few minutes every couple of hours. He came to a stopping point by Sunday afternoon, finding shelter in the woods.

The Drachman encampment loomed off in the distance menacingly. It looked like a town, and it probably was. Drachman’s were well known for making their civilians evacuate and using the town as an outpost. 

The blond glanced around his surroundings, taking in the dead trees and the slight breeze that caused the branches to sway gently. It was a little ominous, especially seeing how close he was to the encampment. It was nervewracking as if a Drachman would explode from the trees and into the clearing any second. 

Ed settled into a crouch and glanced down at his pocket watch. Major Rivers would likely be here before too long with the package that contained everything the military wanted and if there was any saving the patrol that had suddenly gone missing. Maybe Ed was pessimistic, but he seemed almost unlikely that the patrol was even alive, especially with how well known it was that the Drachman military was brutal.

Crack.

Ed gasped quietly and shot to his feet, getting into a fighting position. He stared in the direction of the breaking branch, heart pounding in his throat. There was the sound of an annoyed grumble and a growled Shit before the person was standing in front of him, an annoyed expression on his face.

Major Rivers looked like the blond expected. The man was taller, with dark hair hanging around his face, green eyes, and a face marked by frown lines through his thick, dark beard. He looked like a no-nonsense type of person. The man sighed in relief when he caught Ed in his view.

“You are the Fullmetal, I presume?” His voice was heavily accented with Drachman. His eyes carefully scanned the brush behind him.

Ed nodded.

“I was expecting someone a bit older,” He commented, continuing before Ed could respond with a snarl, “ It is not looking very good for the prisoners. Leuitenant’s Red and Waters were killed a week ago due to being unwilling to give the Drachman’s information. Major Jackson was killed during the confrontation, and Leuitenant’s James and Fields are still being kept alive,” The dark-haired man announced.

“Any idea what they want them for?”

“Well, James was slated for execution, but right before, General Zaytsev called it off due to him receiving a message from a higher up. He didn’t explain further, but this is curious,” Rivers said.

A thread of concern pulled in Ed’s stomach. Something about that sounded. . .odd. Drachman’s rarely if at all, saved prisoners from executions. There had to be a reason for it, something bigger than the prisoners, and Ed didn’t like the thought of it at all.

“Couldー” The sound of a crack echoes around the near-silent clearing, and the blond’s blood froze. Major Rivers froze and turned to look at the brush, and Ed swallowed the growing fear in his throat. 

“If something happens, take these and get the hell out of here,” Rivers hisses under his breath, shoving the packets into the blond’s hands.

There was another rustle, footsteps becoming louder and then, a Bang .

Ed’s heart fell to his ass. The man’s eyes widened before he fell forward and collapsed into the snow, staining it a deep red. There was an entrance wound in the back of the man’s head, and he’d been killed instantly.

The opening was eerily quiet, save for the heaving breaths causing his chest to heave with terror. Crack . White-hot agony filled his left shoulder, pulling an agonized cry from him. The packet slipped from his grasp. 

He dropped to a knee, quickly shoving a hand over the dripping wound. Yells and shouts broke the quietness. Shit . It had been a trap!

Forcing himself to focus through the sharp tendrils of pain squeezing around his chest, he took off. Sharp branches smacked his face as he ran. The trees were growing thicker and thicker, and behind him, he could hear the snarling barks of the dogs the Drachman’s had with them.

He skidded to a halt, spinning around and around, gritting his teeth. Oh god , he was lost. The trees looked the same. He stepped back, and there was only air. A yelp pulled from his throat as he tried to get a grip on the tree, and his hand missed.

The world spun dizzyingly around him as his body slammed down the hill. Lightning tore through his left arm; something crunched; he didn’t even get the chance to scream as he hit the bottom, and everything turned black.

He came to consciousness as quickly as he lost it. His left arm throbbed, agony burning when he tried to move it, ripping a howl from his throat. He panted into the leaves, automail hand grinding up dirt, snow, and leaves. Spots of red and blue flashed. He took in a heaving breath and nearly choked on the agony. He was lucky if he was even able to stand up.

The Drachman’s were upon him; he could hear them at the top of the hill, yelling in Drachman. The dogs barked excitedly; they must’ve picked up his scent. He gritted his teeth; he couldn’t get caught, not like this.

With every bit of energy his body had left, he shoved himself into a sitting position, body trembling with exertion. He looked through hair glued to his face and shakily pulled himself onto his feet. The world spun, and nausea bubbled in his throat; shit shit . 

He stumbles, leaning heavily against a tree. His heart is pounding in his chest, broken arm throbbing with the beat of it. 

“Ostanvoka! Ostanvoka!” The Drachman voices are yelling much too loudly. They shouldn’t have gotten so close; how long had Ed been zoning out here?

The blond pushes off the tree, wincing at the twinge in his ankle. The spinning was better now; he could do this. 

Except, no, he couldn’t.

A rope flies around his neck, pulling taut, dragging him to the ground. He bucks, a weight on his back, a hand shoving his face into the snow. He bucked and snarled and growled, but the weight didn’t move. 

No, No.

“Zdes’!” The Drachman yelled. 

His arms were pulled behind him, rope wrapped around his hands, tying them in place. 

“Bystro, Bystro,” The Drachman growls as a companion runs up to them, the one with the dog. It growls in Ed’s ear, daring him to move.

“Get off of me!” He snarls, only earning a sharp cuff to the back of his head. Something is laid down in front of his face, a vial of some sort. The syringe joins it a second later. No. His blood freezes. The team. . .the mission. He can’t fail the mission. He can’t leave his brother.

But he doesn’t get a say. He screwed up so badly. 

The Drachman forces his head deeper into the snow, flipping his hair over his face. A finger presses on the back of his neck, he winces as his skin is pinched. 

Then there’s a sharp sting, and the world falls away.