Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The hyacinths felt heavier in Maes’ hands than they had any right to. The flowers had a purpose other than mourning, today, but he couldn’t help but be aware of their connection to Roy.

However, these particular hyacinths weren’t for his best friend, they were for General Armstrong, who Maes unsurprisingly found staring out one of the many windows in her mansion— she, much like Roy, had always had a flair for the dramatics.

Maes supposed they may very well share taste in flowers, too. “Hello there, General.”

The immediate glare she turned on him? That reminded him of Roy, too.

“Are you sure you’re still not interested in coming over for dinner?” Hughes asked as they walked down the stairs of the house together. “I know my wife and daughter would love to meet you.”

Olivier sighed, sounding more exasperated than Maes thought she had any right to, frankly. “I suppose I’ll have to, if only so you cease asking me.”

“I understand with such a large mansion at your disposal you may not wish to visit my humble apartment,” Maes said, with a grin. “Although I can assure you my wife’s cooking is finer than any professional chef’s, I admit things are a bit cramped, especially with a baby on the way.

“Hmph.” Olivier, as usual, was not impressed. “Isn’t your wife due to give birth soon?” At Maes’ nod, she looked even more displeased. “You should be cooking for her.”

“And of course I do,” Maes conceded, “but my wife loves to cook, and as I said, our kitchen is a bit small. I’m more likely to get in her way than be of any real assistance. But I suppose you could fit an entire battalion in your kitchen, let alone the rest of the house.”

Olivier turned her already present scowl on Maes. “If anything were to happen to me, I could let you have the entire mansion. It won’t fit inside a casket, after all.”

Maes blinked, and very nearly stopped walking at ‘casket.’ He could never tell when the General was serious. “You wouldn’t leave it to your brother?”

“Between the two of you, he infuriates me more,” Olivier said, “but it’s a close thing. Perhaps I could leave it to Lieutenant Hawkeye as well, though. At least then I could be assured the place wouldn’t crumble to the ground.”

At that, Maes couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him, even if it made Olivier’s frown deepen. “I’m sure she’d be honored.” They reached the bottom of the steps, then. The only people around were a couple guards burning some leaf litter nearby. Perfect. Maes turned to face her, holding the bouquet up higher. “Though it may be a bit late, I wanted to congratulate you on becoming head of the Armstrong family.”

He watched as she took them, reluctance clear until her gaze landed on the note hidden inside. “Hyacinths,” she observed, face unreadable. Her expression didn’t change as she removed and read the slip of paper tucked between the flowers, either. Impressive.

“Do you know what hyacinths mean in the language of flowers?” He didn’t need to ask, necessarily, but she may need an excuse to dispose of the flowers and the secret message within them. Plus, it would be amusing to see her response.

Olivier’s eyes narrowed. “No.”

“Ladylike charm!”

She tossed the entire bouquet into the fire immediately, looking furious. Still, her response was calm and collected as ever. “I have no use for such things, Lieutenant Colonel. Or your congratulations, for that matter.”

Maes couldn’t help it— he laughed. “Well, I must be going General,” he said, and began to walk away. “Take care, now. And don’t forget, you’re always welcome for dinner.”

Olivier didn’t deign that with a response, but Maes could feel her glaring at him all the way down the block.

He could hear the hyacinths burning up, too; the fire crackling loudly in the quiet night.

Maes felt a bit lighter, now, but he still got the sense that something was missing.

Roy Mustang, contrary to popular opinion, was not stupid. Did he sometimes stick his nose in places he shouldn’t? Sure. Did he have a habit of reckless, impulsive decision making? Of course. Maybe he was a bit of an idiot, sometimes, but not stupid— and yes, they were separate things, Maes Hughes existed as walking proof.

Roy Mustang was no fool, though he had often enjoyed the benefits of acting like one in order to be underestimated. But even a total fool would know that something was off.

That something was coming.

Ever since Envy stopped showing up— and really, Roy had run out of optimism a long time ago, but he couldn’t help but hope they’d died —things felt different. None of the other homunculi seemed even half as interested in tormenting him, though only Wrath, Pride, and Gluttony made appearances. Kimblee, thankfully, hadn’t shown up again. Yet.

Roy got his meals from whichever homunculus deigned to visit him that day, and more often than not he made snide remarks, especially considering it didn’t result in consequences, lately.

Neither did his less than subtle escape-oriented activities, and he almost couldn’t believe it. He knew Bradley, at least, wasn’t stupid either… so frankly, he found it ridiculous how much alchemy he’d gotten away with, even though he’d only risked small transmutations, few and far between at that. But these days, he could take more risks, because it genuinely seemed like the homunculi didn’t give him much thought.

And Roy wasn’t stupid, so he knew what it meant. They were preparing for something.

Whatever that enormous transmutation circle would do? Whatever they intended to use him for? Roy could see it coming for him, dark clouds on the horizon.

Well, no matter. Roy was preparing, too.

With the homunculi entertaining his attempts at banter far less frequently, Roy had to find other means of occupying his time. Exercise, for one.While difficult in a small cell, he made do. Just because he’d lost a limb in this mess didn’t mean he could allow himself to be helpless in the fight he knew was coming. Besides, he found pull-ups easier, actually, now that he’d built some muscle mass back up again— he had much less weight to contend with.

Roy spent a lot of time practicing transmutation circles, too, even if he didn’t use all of them. He knew his flame circle like the back of his hand, but he still drew it over and over to make sure he wouldn’t miss any details if he ever had to use it. Too risky to try for now without proper ignition, as were most of the options he tried to recall from memory, but he did take pride in the ones he had activated.

He’d weakened the walls of his cell. Considerably so. Little by little, and by this point he knew he could tear them apart at a moment’s notice.

And it seemed like that was just what he would have to do. Even with his limited knowledge from his first, ill-advised escape attempt. Roy knew he had no hope of navigating the tunnels that lay beyond his cell door at all, much less finding a way out. Especially because of the aforementioned, less-than-ideal situation of having only one leg. Though he had learned to move pretty quickly on crutches, up against any of the homunculi? Hell, even Kimblee, who once upon a time he could’ve taken in his sleep? He didn’t stand a chance.

In all likelihood, Roy would need one of two things, possibly both— an ally, and a world-class distraction. He knew he couldn’t count on the former, but considering the homunculi seemed distracted already… Roy liked his odds. He would use whatever horrific plan they meant to set in motion as cover for his escape, ideally before they could use him as their means to an end.

He would be ready.

Riza Hawkeye had always considered herself a woman of few words. Not one for impassioned speeches, she preferred blunt statements and straightforward orders. She could hit a bullseye from over a thousand meters away, but she had never considering giving orders to be within her wheelhouse, though she had ordered around her Colonel as much as the other way around.

Giving speeches, though? Specifically ones intended to boost moral? Ridiculous.

Roy had always been better at that, and she felt his absence both more and less starkly than ever, now, on the precipice of what she knew would be the fight of her life. Colonel Hughes had also always been the champion of pep talks, and Riza knew if either of them were there with her they’d have a better understanding of what to say. But they weren’t.

She stood there instead, facing what remained of Team Mustang with a gun in her hand, and she spoke because here were people who wanted to follow her, so she figured she had better give them a damn good reason to.

Still, why give a speech when a few sentences worked just as well?

“Everything goes into motion tomorrow,”she said, solemn. “Prepare yourself to fight with everything you have, to do what you have to do to survive.” She paused, drew in a deep breath. “Lieutenant Breda, Sergeant Fuery—”

She intended to warn them of the danger, to give them one last chance to back out if they so desired, as the Colonel would have done. Predictably, however, Breda interrupted her right away with a smile on his face.

“Knock it off with the Lieutenant stuff. Right now, I’m just an ordinary deserter.”

Fuery sighed, a bit wistfully. “The way ahead is as murky as can be.” But though his fear may have been genuine, Riza could see a very real determination behind it. Neither of them would back down, and she knew it… even if she’d half hoped they would, if only it meant they would be safe.

Riza nodded, once. “Once this is over, we’ll all have a hand in shaping Amestris into a brand new nation. And we’ll do it for Roy.” She offered them both a rare, genuine smile. “I’m glad to have you both with me.”

“Of course,” Breda said, as if it wasn’t even in question. “We’d follow you into hell, sir. Havoc and Hughes, too.”

She’d known this already— they’d shown it time and time again —but to hear the words she’d said to Roy all those years ago made her heart ache in her chest.

Riza could spare no time for sentiment now, though. She had a coup to stage, and several homunculi to kill. “You’re about to.”

Ed had to admit, he was growing sort of tired of reunions.

Okay, not really, of course he’d been over the moon to see Winry, especially considering the last time he saw her she’d been feigning unconsciousness in Scar’s clutches. Speaking with her had been a breath of fresh air, even if he couldn’t stay for long. Even if some part of him just wanted to stay with her in Resembool and forget that the rest of the world was about to fall into chaos.

But Ed missed his brother just as much as he’d missed Winry, if not more, and he hadn’t seen Al in ages. Instead of getting that reunion, however, the universe had presented him with Hohenheim to put up with on top of everything else going on. Ed had the feeling that somewhere, Truth was laughing at him.

After all, On the list of people he wanted back in his life, his estranged father was pretty low on the list. Of course, Kimblee took the cake lately— if Ed ever saw the man again it would be too soon —but even if the world was about to end, Ed simply didn’t have time to reconcile with Hohenheim, even if he was grudgingly happy to see him.

He’d happened upon yet another reason to miss Al, though, which was impressive after so many months. If he were around, at least Ed wouldn’t have to tolerate Hohenheim all on his own. Al had always been better at making nice. He wondered what Al was up to, right now.

God, Ed missed him. He missed everyone, and coming face to face with Hohenheim just made him more acutely aware of this, of all the other people he hadn’t seen in far too long, of all the other people he’d prefer to see. Lieutenant Hawkeye. Colonel Hughes. The rest of Team Mustang. He already missed Winry again. Ling, too, even if the idiot was still technically traveling with him.

And Roy. He missed Roy, too.

“Nothing good comes of wanting something too badly,” he had told Greed, back in Resembool. “I wanted back someone who was dead, and this is what I got.”

Ed hated it, because he knew what the consequences would be, but for a moment he found himself wanting that same thing all over again.

Al had discovered, in his admittedly short life, that when things could go wrong, they would. Usually he had his brother with him, though, and he would have felt much more equipped to handle this situation if he weren’t alone.

The situation in question? His body kept tugging his soul over to the other side of the gate at increasing intervals, which left him weakened and much less capable of adequately defending himself against obstacles that rose up in his path.

Obstacles like two homunculi ambushing him in the dead of night. His soul’s inopportune flickering in and out prevented him from putting up a fight at all.

Honestly, though, the appearance of enemies shouldn’t have even surprised him. Perhaps it wouldn’t have on a good day, but Al was having less and less of those lately.

“You’re going to take it easy until the Promised Day, Alphonse Elric.”

Well, he didn’t like the sound of that at all.

Scar didn’t want to leave the work to the chimera soldiers, but he had needed a moment to speak to Doctor Marcoh alone before they headed to Central together with the other Ishvalans he’d gathered together.

The lie they had told to the Fullmetal Alchemist in Briggs— he did not regret the decision to stick to his word, but it weighed heavily on him all the same.

“We know who killed him,” Marcoh had said, a distraction in the wake of Scar’s own silence. “It was Envy.”

He’d thought the words wise at the time, but now he couldn’t be so sure. Scar had seen a vengeful sort of rage taking shape on the boy’s face, then. An expression he knew well from when he looked in the mirror. And he knew, too, the dangerous path such anger would tempt one down.

“He’s just a kid,” Roy Mustang himself had said, what seemed like a lifetime ago. “I have to protect him. Please, just swear to me that you won’t hurt him.”

Scar had given his word then, too. But what would this boy do when he came face to face with Envy again, as he likely would in the days to come?

Only time would tell if they had chosen for the best, but Scar had never been one to wait out potential catastrophe. What if they came upon Mustang in Central, too? Would it not be best to warn their now allies?

“Perhaps…” he paused, choosing his words carefully as he contemplated the meal in front of him. “Perhaps we should tell the others that Colonel Mustang survived.”

Marcoh turned to him, clearly conflicted. “I sometimes wish we had told them in Briggs,” he said, voice soft. “I sometimes think we ought to have. But unfortunately, we cannot risk telling them now. It would put the entire plan in jeopardy.”

Scar frowned. “Could our withholding of this information not risk the plan as well?”

“If we discover Mustang in Central, by all means we should release him and endeavor to explain ourselves,” Marcoh said, “but we cannot tell them he survived, not now. Not when we don’t ourselves know whether he’s still alive.”

Scar barely managed to suppress a flinch at this. Of course it had crossed his mind that the homunculi might have killed Mustang in retribution for their escape, but this was the first time Marcoh had voiced such thoughts, and so the first time they held any real weight. After all, he had been their prisoner, too, and knew best what consequences may have been in store.

“I don’t believe they killed him,” Marcoh continued. “I know they wanted to use him as a

‘sacrifice’ in their transmutation circle, same as me. But... I can’t be positive that he remained alive just because he was months ago. I haven’t seen Mustang personally in some time, and so I cannot speak to what state he may be in. It seems unlikely that the homunculi would risk moving him, but that is also a possibility. How cruel would it be to share our knowledge now, only for his loved ones to discover he has been killed since? Better for them to never know.”

“I… do believe that is what Mustang would say.”

“Don’t tell them you found me here. Let them continue believing I’m dead.” The words he had held onto in Briggs, even as his conscience warred with him.

Marcoh nodded. “We also can’t risk losing their trust this close to the Promised Day, either,” he said. “For now, our priority must be ensuring that everything goes according to plan. The whole country of Amestris is at stake. If we inform the Fullmetal Alchemist that Roy Mustang remains alive, he will doubtlessly want to attempt a rescue, which would be unwise with so little time to plan for one. Mustang would not want them to risk harm on his behalf, and Edward would be furious to know we kept something like this from them for so long. We should just proceed forward as originally planned. With luck, in the aftermath of the Promised Day, we will have eliminated those that imprisoned the Colonel and be able to release him.”

Marcoh said the words with finality, but Scar didn’t feel as assured as he would have liked to. Was this what Mustang would want? Was this what he wanted? He didn’t know.

But for the time being, he had to agree with Marcoh— even if keep this secret proved not to be the right choice, it was the least risky one.

Wrath considered himself a difficult person to surprise. He had expected a coup from Grumman, and he’d even expected the involvement of Mustang’s former men.

What he had not anticipated was them choosing to work together with Ishvalans. How could they, a group that relied so heavily on their faith, side with soldiers who had fought and killed countless of their own people?

Regardless of the why, it created an uncertainty of numbers that he had to correct as soon as possible by returning to Central, and so that was exactly what he would do.

“I knew we were right to have our eye on that Colonel Hughes,” one of the men on the train beside him spoke up. “He still somehow presents a threat even though we’ve stripped him of Mustang’s old pawns.”

Wrath said nothing, though he very nearly corrected the man. Calling Roy Mustang’s former elite team of soldiers ‘pawns’ greatly understated the threat they presented. Naming solely Colonel Hughes as the mastermind seemed inaccurate; a failure to give Lieutenant Hawkeye credit for this scheme when he had no doubt she’d been instrumental, even while working closely at his side as she had been for the past several months.

Certainly, as a woman many would underestimate her, and Wrath had been guilty of doing so himself in the past when she had so often been standing behind Mustang’s flashier shows of power. But he had seen both her and Colonel Hughes fight in Ishval alongside the Flame Alchemist, and between the two he hadn’t taken out of the equation yet, he knew who presented the bigger threat. To his life, and to his throne.

When the train stopped, Wrath knew immediately that they recognized the threat he presented, too. Of course they would attempt to keep him from Central— he shouldn’t have been surprised, and this time he wasn’t.

Disappointed though, certainly. These were the plans of those who had killed Lust? He’d expected better, and if they wanted to kill him, they’d have to devise more of a challenge.

“King Bradley, dead...”

“We still don’t know that it’s true! What’s going on with the search?”

“They still haven’t reached the site.”

“Get them moving!”

The squabbling voices of the men seated around Olivier rose to a crescendo, whose head began to ache. She’d known about the attack in advance, of course, but even if she had been surprised by the news, being caught off guard was no reason to behave like this.

Like chickens with their heads cut off, the lot of them. Running around aimlessly, squawking just because they didn’t have their precious Bradley to feed them instructions anymore. Was she expected to believe that these men were really the elite of Amestris, the finest soldiers selected by their king to usher in a new age of immortality?

They were nothing more than pawns, and Olivier hated that she sat among them. She knew she had to keep this advantage, though; had to hold out here even if Bradley were truly dead— and Olivier Armstrong had never been one for optimism. She also knew, though, that was the most powerful person at the table, that she could easily defeat them all in combat, and she struggled not to find it insulting.

These men had heard of her strength, but as the only woman at this table she knew many likely did not believe it. In the wake of this panic-inducing news, she had the element of surprise. She could kill them all, right here and now.

Or… better yet…

Her eyes slid to the seat at the head of the table, unoccupied.

No, she couldn’t possibly. She couldn’t show her hand so early. But it tempted her all the same, and all these men appeared so anxious for a leader. Normally, she wouldn’t have had any illusions that they would listen to her, but these men were desperate. And in a sense, so was she; she couldn’t resist at least entertaining the thought for a moment. Even if the following days went according to plan, would she have a better chance in this moment? Would someone else seize the throne first?

If Roy Mustang were here, arrogant upstart that he was, would he have already done it? She tried to picture it, against her better judgement— him simply sitting down with all the confidence in the world, possibly even kicking his feet up on the table, giving an order. Would the men follow him?

It irritated her to know that she would have, had he lived to see his dream of becoming Fuhrer come true. She would have put up one hell of a fight, and then she would have helped him change the country for the better if he won.

This— the empty chair mere feet away from her —felt too easy. But did that make it too good to be true?

Yes, her mind answered its own question immediately as she felt a looming, enormous presence behind her.

“It’s an honor to have you come here,” someone said, and Olivier felt she should agree with the sentiment, but her mouth had gone dry.

She didn’t dare turn her head, but she could see him out of the corner of her eye, a blonde, bearded man dressed in white robes. And right behind him? The homunculus that had attacked Briggs.

“Calm down, everyone,” said the unfamiliar man Olivier still recognized him, though— the Fullmetal Alchemist had said the homunculi called him ‘Father.’ “I am still here in Central.”

Olivier forced her expression to remain stoic, a skill she had grown quite good at. The man’s hand landed on her shoulder, a weight pinning her to the seat. She should never have expected any part of this to be easy.

Well. She had never been one to back down from a challenge. Simple or not, she still had a part to play.

Nobody mattered to Ed as much as his brother. This had always been and would always be true— he had countless people who he cared about and who he aimed to protect on the Promised Day, but Alphonse was different. The responsibility held a personal weight.

Edward would always risk himself if it meant his brother would be okay, no hesitation. He would always go to great lengths to keep Al safe. His little brother. His only brother.

He knew Alphonse could handle himself, but these past few months… Ed worried often. They’d parted ways so long ago and in such a dangerous situation, and he couldn’t help it. He knew the feeling wouldn’t go away entirely until he saw Al again with his own eyes.

When Ed did see Al emerging from the woods, the instantaneous relief almost knocked him to his knees. He didn’t yet know how cruel of a reunion awaited them both.

“Al!” he exclaimed, and wasted no time before rushing forward. “It’s you!” Al usually would have made a move to hug him by now, but he’d moved a bit jerkily when walking over, so perhaps his armor had been damaged slightly? Ed hovered a few steps away, just in case, but he didn’t think much of it. He would fix whatever was wrong with the armor, and they had plenty of time to exchange a hug now, anyway. They were together.

Al didn’t say anything, and so Ed continued. “I’m so glad to see you’re okay,” he said, unable to stop a smile. “You are okay, right? How have things been on your end? It’s been a while since we—”

“Brother, you’re alright, too.” The words were just as stilted as Al’s earlier movements, just a statement of fact with next to no inflection. and it made Ed frown.

“Well, yeah,” Ed agreed, “I am. I can tell you everything that I’ve been doing, but I want to hear your side first. Weren’t you with Major Miles? What happened with all that?”

Al just stood there. “I need to speak with you about that. Come here a minute.”

“I mean… Okay.” Al turned around, and Ed began to follow. Maybe he didn’t want to talk in front of all the others? But still… “Al, is something wrong?”

And Al stopped in his tracks in front of him. “Why do you ask?”

Ed’s frown deepened. Maybe because I know you, and so I know when you’re not acting like yourself? “I don’t know, you’re just acting—“

“ED! GET AWAY FROM HIM!”

The only reason Ed turned around, the only reason he entertained the idea that Al posed any sort of threat to him? Ling was the one yelling the warning. Not one of the chimera soldiers, and not Greed.

Greed, who Ed had been traveling with for some time, now. While the two had a more symbiotic relationship now, Ed knew it still took a great deal of effort for Ling to push past the homunculus in order to speak. So he knew it must be serious.

Ling had held a trembling hand up to cover his mouth, and Ed stared at him, shocked.He’d never seen the guy look so scared before. “That’s… he’s…”

A horrific clanking noise behind him, then, and Ed turned slowly to look behind him. The fear in Ling’s eyes and voice had already transformed Ed’s own unease into terror, but if that hadn’t done the trick then the sight awaiting him when he faced his brother again certainly would have.

Smoke poured out from the cracks of Alphonse’s armor. Before Ed had the chance to say anything, to scream, the shadows shot forward in a dozen spikes. He had to duck to avoid getting hit.

“What is this?!” he demanded, but his voice came out far more unsteady than he would have liked. He’d dropped into a fighting stance, but he hesitated. Because this was Al.

But when Al spoke again, he didn’t sound like himself at all. “So you’ve gone over to their side, Greed?” He turned unnaturally as he said the words, the armor moving as if controlled by a marionette. “And to think you’d let the human take you over again.” A thousand red eyes opened from the depths of Al’s armor. “Your soul is so weak!”

The armor, the closest thing Ed could give his brother to a body, shook unsteadily. As if something was fighting to get out. The smoke, from earlier?

None of this made any goddamn sense.

“Al?” Ed asked, again, and he hated how small his voice sounded, but what else could he say?

“It’s Pride.” Greed, this time, but he sounded just as afraid as Ling had, even though Ed knew neither of them scared easily. “I guess you could say he’s our oldest brother.” His voice and hands still shook.

Ed felt his insides turn to ice. “A homunculus?” He faced the threat once more, albeit reluctantly. He hated seeing Al like this.

“You’re going to betray us no matter what, aren’t you, Greed? At this point, you are nothing more than an obstacle to us.”

Ed didn’t like the sound of that one bit.

Greed scowled. “How the hell did you know I was here?”

A fair question, but hardly the most important one to be asking right now, in Ed’s opinion. “How dare you disguise yourself as Al?!” Ed was glad Greed had filled in the blank, because the only other homunculus he knew who could disguise themself was Envy, and if he’d had a run in with them… he’d already have attacked. Especially if that scum of the Earth had the nerve to look like Al.

Even the thought of Envy still made Ed’s head swim with rage, after Dr. Marcoh had told him the truth of Roy’s death. But Al was in danger, so he shoved the feelings aside.

“It’s not a disguise,” the homunculus answered, infuriatingly smug. “I can assure you that this is your brother’s body.” The suit of armor’s helmet lifted into the air, and the shadows receded to show Ed the blood seal he had painted himself in a desperate attempt to keep his brother alive.

Ed felt all the air leave his lungs in one horrified breath. He let himself be frozen in fear for one more second, and then all of those emotions crystalized into a sharp fury. How dare he? “You… you…”

Ed had lost far too many people already, and he knew in all likelihood that he would lose more. Hell, with the Promised Day right around the corner, he could pretty much count on it.

But even if he lost everything and everyone else, even if Ed had no flesh and bone limbs left and no heartbeat at the end of tomorrow, he refused to lose Alphonse. He wouldn’t allow it. Ed didn’t give a shit about saving the world if his brother wouldn’t make it through.

He had given up an arm for Alphonse, once. Did this homunculus really think he wasn’t prepared to give up a hell of a lot more? Even if he knew the homunculi needed both of them alive, even if he knew Al had to be in there somewhere still, he would not let this stand.

“I’m going to deal with Greed, now,” Pride said, entirely unbothered, as if Ed would allow that, either. “Fullmetal Alchemist, would you care to come with me?”

Ed felt a dangerous smile on his face. Not even the Promised Day yet, and already a homunculus had showed up, asking for a fight.

A part of him wondered why the hell they couldn’t just wait until tomorrow, but mostly? Ed was happy to oblige.

Maes felt unreasonably guilty as he entered Chris Mustang’s bar. He knew he should visit her more, knew Roy would likely have wanted him to, but sometimes he just found it too painful. He often liked to convince himself that Roy’s aunt felt the same way— seeing him must also be a constant reminder to her of what they’d both lost —but he knew she appreciated it whenever he contacted her, even if it was almost always all business.

Her face brightened the moment she saw him. “Lieutenant Colonel Hughes,” she greeted, as he sat down, and Maes smiled kindly.

“I’ve told you before, please call me Maes,” he reminded her as he took a seat at the bar. “How have you been?” He didn’t need the pleasantries as a cover; the bar was empty but for the two of them. He just genuinely wanted to know.

“Well enough,” she replied, with a shrug. “And you? How is your lovely wife?”

“She’s wonderful,” Maes said. “Very pregnant. And Elicia’s doing fine, too— she’s very excited about being a big sister.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Chris’ smile turned wistful. “All my girls took the role very seriously once Roy fell into my lap. I would take him to work with me often, in those days, and he used to fill up coloring books right here on the bar. Even as a toddler, he charmed everyone he met.”

This was another reason Maes didn’t visit as often as he should— Chris Mustang talked very openly about Roy. She seemed to cope by focusing on the good memories. Maes sometimes did, too, but most of the time… even the good memories hurt.

“He’s mentioned to me that his sisters taught him how to make a flower crown,” Maes told her. “He even taught Elicia how, with hyacinths he bought for my wife.”

Chris nodded. “Those have always been his favorite flower.” A pause. “I’ve seen the ones you’ve brought to his grave. I suppose it’s a bit selfish of me, but it means the world that so many others mourn. He was so loved, my Roy.”

A lump formed in Maes’ throat. “You raised a great man.”

“I wonder, sometimes, if I perhaps should have just raised a good one,” Chris said, with a sigh. “Sometimes… I wish I’d kept him here in this bar his whole life. He would’ve been miserable, but he wouldn’t have gotten himself in half as much trouble.”

“I spent years trying to keep Roy out of trouble, since the day we met, and most of the time it just wound up dragging me into it, too,” Maes told her. “You couldn’t have stopped him from trying to get to the top even if you wanted to. But you let him chase his ambition, you supported him. You raised him well. I don’t think you should ever regret that.”

Tears had sprung to Chris Mustang’s eyes. “I don’t,” she promised. “I don’t regret a thing about the way I raised him— he turned out so brave, though I don’t know how much of that can be credited to me. It’s just difficult not to think about what could have been.”

Maes huffed. “I know the feeling.”

“I hope you don’t have regrets either, young man,” she said, and waved an accusatory finger at him. “You were his best friend. He wouldn’t have wanted you to feel trapped in your grief.”

Trapped? Maes didn’t feel stuck by his grief, it was stuck— living somewhere inside his chest he couldn’t quite reach. He could move forward, but he did so carrying an extra weight. He could, at times, almost forget about its existence, but it snuck up on him whenever he grew too comfortable. It clung to him like a parasite.

And Maes wouldn’t have rid himself of it, even if he could.

Chris sighed, clearly wise to some of his thoughts. “Well, even if you insist on continuing to hinder yourself with guilt, I refuse to enable it,” she said, and slid an envelope across the bar. “Back to business; you were right. Selim Bradley is not, strictly speaking, human.”

Maes laid the photos out in front of him slowly, frowning. “This one’s from twenty years ago,” he said, bewildered. “Fifty years here. He’s standing right beside our top government officials dating back decades.” Admittedly, when he had learned from Lieutenant Hawkeye that Selim Bradley was a homunculus, he assumed it had been the Fuhrer’s doing somehow. Hawkeye hadn’t given him a ton to go on, but Selim Bradley was a child.

Or at least… that’s what he’d thought.

It had left him disconcerted, the idea that he might have to fight someone who looked so young on the Promised Day. Call it a father’s instincts. But these pictures meant Selim had to be far older than even Bradley himself— he aged.

Chris took a drag from her cigarette. “I checked into the town that King Bradley is supposedly from, too,” she said as Maes kept examining the pictures. “While there are records of him being born and raised there, not a single person has ever seen the Bradley family. The mansion at the address listed was empty, and I’m sure you won’t be surprised to learn there are no relatives.”

“Thank you for taking the time to investigate this,” Maes said, looking back up at her again. “I know it can’t have been easy.”

“Not easy, no,” she admitted, “but the moment I discovered Selim wasn’t human, I couldn’t rest until I knew more. I can’t imagine how it hasn’t gotten out before.”

Maes snorted. That was one of the many questions this information raised that he did have the answer to. “Because he’s the Fuhrer’s son. When you’re at the top of a military state, you can create whatever truth you want to.” And when Hawkeye reached the top, she would put an end to all of that.

“Ah, my poor chateau.”

“Forgive me for saying so, but I still think it would be a safer bet to blow up the whole bar instead of just our exit,” Maes told her, and shut the trap door at the top of the ladder.

“I won’t destroy the place where Roy grew up,” Chris said, a bit tersely, “though the military police tailing you may choose to do so once they see you’ve vanished without a trace.”

“Well, in that case, I’ll help you buy another one,” Maes replied. “I think they’ll focus their efforts in coming after me, but I am sorry you’ll have to leave this place behind. You are taking what you care about with you, though?”

She nodded. “I’ll have to go underground for a while, anyhow, until this nasty business is resolved.”

“And the girls who work here? You warned them, as well?”

“Don’t you worry about them, by now they’re enjoying the sun in a foreign land. I plan on following their example.” The idea of Roy’s aunt vacationing during the apocalypse amused Maes enough that he smiled. “Never mind about me, though— you should be thinking about what’s going to happen tomorrow, in this country. Have you gotten your wife and daughter out?”

Maes grimaced. “They leave tomorrow morning, before it all starts,” he said. He’d already exchanged tearful goodbyes, but he knew they’d be okay outside of the border. And Gracia knew why he had to stay. “With the Fuhrer watching all of us so closely… I didn’t want to raise any suspicion. It’s possible they would have been in more danger had they left earlier.” And Gracia had also refused to hear it. “But they should be able to go unnoticed, with everything else going on.” He hoped.

Chris smiled back at him, and Maes saw the shadow of his best friend in that ruthless grin. “If, the next time we meet, you’re in a body bag and branded as a rebel, I’ll wake you up again just to kill you myself.”

“I look forward to it.” Maes watched as she turned, a lump in his throat. “Thank you, Madam Christmas. I owe you a debt for all your help.” Nothing he could say felt like enough. What kind of goodbye suited someone who had already lost the person they cared for most?

Chris Mustang stopped for a moment, back still facing him. “You owe me nothing,” she said, her voice firm. “But if you truly wish to repay me… avenge our boy, Maes. Seeing as I won’t be sticking around to do it myself.”

And just like that, the words leapt easily from Maes’ mouth. “I will. I promise.”

She raised a single hand in a wave, and he turned and started down the other end of the tunnel.

Riza turned to look at Maes as he walked in the door, a small smile on his face. She found herself mirroring it.

Breda stood up, also grinning. “You’re late, Lieutenant Colonel,” he said. “We almost left without you.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Maes told him, then turned to look at her. “Even if you had, though, I’m sure Hawkeye would’ve been able to handle it.”

Riza frowned, and opened her mouth to protest, but Fuery spoke up before she could.

“He’s right. After all, you’re the one we’ll be following at the end of all this, sir.”

She shifted, a bit uncomfortably. The more time passed, the more the idea of trying to take the seat at the top for herself appealed to her. Riza Hawkeye could now admit, privately, that she wanted it very badly. But to have others bring it up so casually… it made her feel guilty. Or perhaps worse, that she should feel guilty.

Taking Roy’s plans, making them her own? As much as the others supported her, as much as Maes assured her it was what he would have wanted, it still felt a bit too much like leaving him behind.

And that she would never do, even if her ability to lead suffered for it.

“Hang on to that optimism, Sergeant Fuery,” Riza said, forcing the thoughts from her mind. For the next twenty-four hours, she didn’t have time to grieve. “I’m sure we will all need it.” Even General Armstrong claiming the throne for herself at the end of the Promised Day would be a best case scenario.

Maes’ expression turned serious. “And you’re sure you weren’t followed?”

“Of course, sir. This little guy would’ve alerted me if anything happened.” Black Hayate barked happily, as if in agreement. Maes’ lips twitched, and he bent down to pat the dog’s head.

“We truly have an ace up our sleeve,” he said. “What can you tell me about the Bradley family’s activities?”

“I’ve got the schedule for all three of them for the next three days,” Riza told him. “The Fuhrer went to the training grounds in the east, and Selim went with him.”

“Yes, well.” Maes paused. “As it happens, the train that the Fuhrer was riding in wound up at the bottom of a ravine. Somebody bombed the tracks.”

Riza couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped her, but she recovered her shock quickly. Somebody, as if they didn’t know exactly who would do such a thing.

Breda whistled. “Your grandfather sure takes some drastic measures, Hawkeye, huh?”

She didn’t have time to worry about what was going on in East City, either. “The watch level will be elevated now,” she said. “It might make what we’re doing more difficult.”

“Are our plans changing, then?” Fuery asked, his voice steadier than she felt. “Will the Eastern forces still be coming to Central?”

Maes closed his eyes, just for a moment. “The Fuhrer is missing.” Opened them. “This is either a once in a lifetime chance, or we’re walking right into a trap.”
Breda shrugged, and spoke with no hesitation. “Even if it is a trap, we’ve got no choice but to move forward.” Fuery nodded.

“I agree,” Maes conceded, “but I don’t believe it’s my choice to make.” And to Riza’s surprise, he turned to look at her. “Your orders?”

She blinked, and a fond smile crossed his face.

“The world as we know it could well end tomorrow, one way or another,” Maes said. “I think it’s time we stopped worrying about rank, and put our future leader in charge.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Whether we walk into a trap or not, I want to be following you.”

I’d follow you into hell if you asked me to. Breda’s words still haunted her. They were words she had said herself, once. Words she felt she might now live up to. On the Promised Day, nothing would be certain, and death could very well claim her, too. It could claim them all. But into fire they would walk.

She knew how it felt to be burned, anyhow.

“My orders?” she echoed, and stood a bit straighter. “Right now, we’re holding a one-way ticket to change the world, at the cost of a fight like nothing we’ve ever seen. Whether we win or lose, there’s no turning back once we choose this path.” And she had long since chosen it. “Even if we succeed, we still have the great task of rebuilding this nation from the ground up in front of us, of finishing what the Colonel started. I’m honored you think of me as a worthy leader in his stead, but at this moment I only have one order for you. Don’t die.”

“Yes, sir!” An immediate chorus, from all three of them.

And then Maes hugged her. Almost a tackle, really.

“He would be so proud of all you’ve done,” Maes told her, barely a whisper. “Don’t you dare die, either. I couldn’t—”

He broke off, and shook his head into the collar of her coat, which had grown suspiciously damp. Riza understood, though.

She couldn’t have done any of this without him, either. And she certainly couldn’t live with herself if she lost him, too.

In the aftermath of the fight against Pride, Ed found himself separated from his brother again. And as he rested a hand against the wall that kept him from giving Al a hug, Ed wanted nothing more than to tear it down.

He hadn’t spoken to Al in months. But they couldn’t risk releasing Pride, and they both knew it. So this would have to do.

Even just trapping Pride like this had been nearly impossible, with everyone involved either injured or exhausted or both. Lan Fan— who he’d been thrilled to see —overused her automail and hurt herself. The chimeras had taken some heavy hits. Ed had hoped he and Al would be able to work together, tomorrow, but if this was the cost to keep a homunculus down, so be it.

Even if he hated it.

He hated that it had been Al’s idea, and he hated that Hohenheim had let it happen.

“If anything happens to him—”

“He’ll be safe in there,” Hohenheim said, expression grim. “I would never be able to forgive myself if he wasn’t.”

Ed seethed. “I would never be able to forgive you, either.”

But he knew it was the smart decision, to take Pride out of the fight. He had faced several homunculi before, but Pride’s power eclipsed them all, especially after he absorbed Gluttony. Which he really didn’t want to spend too much time thinking about.

He supposed he should take comfort in the fact that Al would be safe from whatever the Promised Day wrought, but Ed still didn’t like the idea of not having his brother with him when things broke bad… not that they hadn’t already.

He didn’t like the idea of leaving Al alone with Pride, even if the homunculus couldn’t do anything. He didn’t like the idea of leaving Al trapped. He just... didn’t like the idea of leaving him.

Again.

But he had to keep going.

Before he could, though… Ed found himself rushing to the side of the dome and placing his flesh hand against it. “Al?”

Faintly, from inside— “Brother?”

Ed slammed his metal fist against the wall, now, as he heard Al moving inside. “Here!”

In a few moments, he could hear his brother’s voice, still muffled, but much closer— he must have been standing directly on the other side. “I’m sorry,” Al said, as if he had anything to be sorry for. “Here we were finally reunited, too.”

Edward couldn’t help but slump a bit at that, his mouth pressed into a firm line. Al— the real Al —was so close, and he still couldn’t even touch him to make sure he was really alright. He hadn’t seen his brother in months, and he hadn’t expected to have to get through tomorrow without him.

Trapping Pride was a massive advantage, and Ed knew it, but how could the best case scenario involve fighting without his brother?

“I know you’re beating yourself up over there,” Al said, when it became clear he would receive no answer. “But I was the reason why all of this happened to begin with. Besides, I only have to put up with this for a little while!”

Ed gritted his teeth. Here Al was, comforting him again. “I missed you,” he said. It didn’t feel like enough, but they were the only words he could come up with. “So much.”

“I missed you, too,” Al replied, softer and somewhat surprised. “It’s just one day, though, Brother.”

Just the Promised Day. Just the day that they saved everyone, or died right along with them. “Be careful.”

This startled a laugh out of Al, and Edward squeezed his eyes shut. “Shouldn’t I be saying that to you? I’ll just be cooped up in here while you fight.” A twinge of bitterness, there— Ed hadn’t expected it, but he should’ve. Of course this wasn’t what Al wanted, either. Of course Al would worry about him, too.

“I’ll be fine.” The words came easier than any had so far. Ed had always felt more comfortable being the one in danger. But… the fact that he wouldn’t be beside Al at all on a day where so much could go wrong… “So you have to promise me that you’ll be safe, too.” Otherwise I don’t know if I have the strength to leave. Even if the entire world depends on it.

In many ways, Al was his entire world.

“I promise,” Al told him, and Edward echoed the words under his breath. They would both be okay, because they always were. Because they had to be. “I love you, brother.”

“I love you, too.” Ed’s eyes stung. “I have to go, okay? But we’ll see each other soon.”

As he finally tore himself away, Ed made another promise this time to himself alone. When we get out of this, he vowed in his head, not if, I’ll have gotten your body back. I swear it.

Riza still didn’t particularly want to take Mrs. Bradley hostage— in her time working for the Fuhrer, his wife had never been anything but kind. But she knew it was necessary, and she couldn’t very well change the plan now, even if she had misgivings.

Besides, the Colonel would have done it. Of that, Riza was certain.

It didn’t make her feel much better about the fear on Mrs. Bradley’s face as Riza opened the car door with a gun in her hand, but. She supposed it couldn’t be helped.

“I’m terribly sorry for this at such a late hour, ma’am,” Riza told her, genuinely. “Please forgive the offense.”

Mrs. Bradley shifted backwards. “Lieutenant Hawkeye? Why are you doing this?”

Maes opened the door on the other side, expression grim, but said nothing, He didn’t like this either— Riza had been surprised that he went along with the idea at all, but perhaps he also recognized the necessity of it. The Fuhrer’s wife looked at him in horror.

“If you come quietly with us, I promise that I have no intention of harming you,” Riza continued, and extended a hand to Mrs. Bradley. “Please.”

She looked at Riza, looked at Maes. And she took it.

In the early days of his capture, Roy would have longed for the boredom he now felt.

Ever since Envy had apparently dropped off the face of the Earth, however, and Roy no longer felt like he risked life and limb by simply opening his mouth… he could actually look forward to the homunculi coming to drop off his food. Roy had always been a fan of verbal confrontation, and it was one of very few ways in which he could keep himself entertained, now.

But Roy hadn’t seen Wrath, Pride, or even Gluttony all day— or since he had woken up, as he couldn’t very well tell the time in this dreary room —and he was beginning to wonder if they’d simply decided to stop feeding him. After all that talk of needing him alive, Roy thought it would be a bit insensitive to just to let him starve to death now.

Not that he would— one more transmutation circle and Roy felt sure the wall would come crashing down. But the homunculi didn’t know that.

Or at least… he didn’t think they did.

Roy had half a mind to make his escape now, but what if they had caught on somehow? What if all three homunculi or more stood waiting just outside the door for him to make a move? What if he encountered something else in these sprawling halls? Roy could’ve sworn he still heard movement coming from somewhere, but he had long since learned to not put too much stock in his senses.

But Roy had realized that a storm was brewing on the horizon a while ago now, and the sudden absence of all homunculi around him had to mean something, even if he didn’t know what. His mind reeled with phantom thoughts of the transmutation circle he’d discovered spanning the entirety of Amestris what now felt like forever ago, the only guess he could conjure up.

Regardless of all that remained uncertain, though, Roy knew one thing for sure— the day for his flight had arrived, no matter how dangerous it would be. He would escape.

In the soft light that came with the dawn of the Promised Day, Maes found himself back at the place where everything first went wrong. At Roy's grave. Holding hyacinths again. Blue and purple this time, a slight deviation from the white he’d brought every week for what felt like forever, now. Today, thoughts and prayers didn’t feel like enough.

Blue for loyalty and sincerity. Purple for sorrow and regret. The same exact shades Roy had brought to Elicia’s birthday party, as if he’d had anything to apologize for.

“I should be the one apologizing to you,” Maes muttered, eyes stinging. He’d long since stopped letting his guilt control him, but he knew he would never truly forgive himself for not picking up that phone. “I’m… so sorry, Roy.”

All this time, and Maes still paused, even though Roy couldn’t answer. Probably couldn’t even hear him. And even if he could… Maes knew Roy wouldn’t have wanted to hear this grief, this guilt. Maes knew the words he wanted to say were selfish, and yet he couldn’t stop himself.

He took a deep inhale, and continued. “I’m sorry that I didn’t pick up the phone,” he said, voice hardly more than a whisper. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you when it mattered most.”

Another pause.

“You always liked to joke about how many times I’d saved your life, and I’m sorry I couldn’t help you when you needed me.” He choked on a sob. “But you never seemed to understand— I needed you, Roy. Far more than the other way around. I spent so much time fighting beside you, following you, but I… I can’t anymore. You wouldn’t want me to spend the rest of my life missing you, but how am I supposed to do anything else?” To forget would be an insult to Roy’s memory.

Maes took another shuddering breath. “I’m so sorry that I didn’t help you,” he said. “But you’d be proud, I hope, to know that we’re not going to let those monsters hurt anyone else. We’re going to save this country.

“It’s going to be a tough fight, but I think we’re ready. We… we sure could use you in it, though.” Even back in Ishval, Maes had never liked facing anything without Roy. But by now he’d learned how to. Still… “I just wish you were here.” Then, softer, “I wish it were me instead. I wish I’d never let you—“

His voice broke, and he shook his head. Roy wouldn’t want to hear him blaming himself, if he somehow was listening.

Besides, Maes knew who to blame.

“I’ll find them,” he said, sadness suddenly transformed into fury. “I’ll find whoever did this to you, Roy, and I’ll destroy them. I’ll avenge you before this day is done, I promise.”

“Lieutenant Colonel?”

Maes whirled, though he shouldn’t have been surprised. Riza did say she would join him in a moment. “I’m sorry,” he said, and wiped at his eyes, preparing to give her some privacy. “Did you also want a moment to…?”

But she was already shaking her head. “Anything I could say, he knows already,” she said simply, and Maes nodded. Roy had always known her heart, even if she didn’t wear it on her sleeve. Maes figured she also knew pretty words would be of no use; she had always been the most rational.

A moment of silence passed between the three of them.

“We’ll avenge him,” she corrected him then, softly, and tore her eyes away from the headstone to look at Maes. “You won’t have to do it alone.”

Maes nodded, a lump in his throat. He leaned down to lay the flowers down. Any more words that he could offer would be empty. Except—

“We love you so much, Roy.” There. As Hawkeye had said, Roy doubtlessly knew it, but Maes wanted to make it known anyway. In case he didn’t live long enough to visit this grave ever again.

Maes feared death so much less, now, though he knew he had countless things to live for. He would fight with everything he had, today, but even if he failed… perhaps he would be reunited with Roy. He would hang onto that.

He went back down the hill with Hawkeye, and the two of them left the hyacinths behind to wilt and wither.

Flowers on a false grave.

“I just wish you were here.” A hopeless thought, spoken into empty air, and echoed by everyone who mourned for Roy Mustang. But the Promised Day had dawned, and with it a chance for even the most hopeless things. For even the dead to come back to life.

Chapter Text

Gracia peered anxiously through the lenses of a pair of eclipse glasses, but she wasn’t looking at the sun. She had purchased three pairs of them a while back, and while Elicia looked out of hers excitedly, the ones Gracia had bought for Maes sat unused on the side table.

“Mommy, mommy, I can see it! Something is moving in front of the sun!”

“It’s the moon, dear,” Gracia said, somewhat absent-minded. “Be careful, make sure you’re only looking at it through the lenses.” She had her own glasses aimed lower, though— she’d already spotted one plume of smoke rising from elsewhere in the city, and she suspected more would follow.

Maes hadn’t been able to tell her too much, of course, but from what he had shared… everything about today spelled danger. And if she knew her husband, he would be right in the thick of it, in spite of any promises he’d made to stay safe when they’d said goodbye the previous day, because of course the plan went into action overnight.

“It’ll all be over after today,” he’d whispered into her hair. “One way or another.”

Gracia didn’t quite like the sound of that, but she had to admit that she was ready to put all the danger and risk behind them, even if it meant things took a turn for the worse before they got better. “Just promise me you’ll be careful,” she’d whispered back. When he nodded, she believed him.

“I’ll be fine,” Maes had sworn. “I’ll come back to you.”

She’d smiled, then. “You always do.”

Even if Gracia struggled to believe his parting words, she at least felt grateful that her husband would be able to take comfort in knowing the two of them were safe. Or… thinking they were, anyhow.

Maes had left early in the evening the previous day in order to set things in motion. Gracia had remained at home with their daughter in order to avoid raising suspicion, but when morning rose she’d taken Elicia to the train station with a ticket she’d purchased in advance.

Again, Maes hadn’t told her many details— and she understood why, as he was anxious to spare her any amount of stress he could this late in her pregnancy —but he had insisted she get out of Amestris. Because everyone within the borders would be in danger. Ordinarily Gracia wouldn’t have ever considered leaving him behind, but they’d agreed that Elicia and the new baby had to come first. So, they’d decided that Gracia would go to the outskirts of the country under the guise of visiting her mother. She had mentally prepared answers to every question that anyone would ask her over the past several days, and Maes had wished her a safe trip when he’d left the previous night. Gracia could tell he’d been anxious to leave her side, too.

In the end, though, it hadn’t mattered. She’d arrived at the train station with her daughter in tow only to be told that all outbound trains were canceled. The man at the ticket booth handed her back her money with an apologetic smile and an offer for discounted tickets the following morning.

Apparently, someone had attackedKing Bradley’s train less than an hour prior to her arrival, so his most trusted advisors had put most other travel at a standstill until the status of either the Fuhrer or the perpetrator could be ascertained.

Gracia didn’t know if she believed that, but however much truth the man’s words held, she couldn’t leave. She and her children would remain in Amestris for what was to come, for better or worse.

Maes would have been beside himself if he knew, and Gracia couldn’t decide whether she should be glad that she had no way of telling him, even if she wanted to. He wouldn’t be home until everything happening outside reached some sort of conclusion, and she knew for a fact that it had already begun.

“Mommy, the sky is so beautiful today!” Elicia said, jolting Gracia’s thoughts back to the present. Her daughter was beaming with her glasses pressed close to her face. “Can we go outside to to see the eclipse?”

Gracia eyed the streets of Central again, and took a deep, shuddering breath when she saw another plume of smoke rising into the air just a few blocks away from them.

“No, sweetie,” she said. “I think we’d better stay in, today.”

Mrs. Bradley turned out to be a fairly agreeable hostage, which only made Riza feel all the more guilty for betraying her trust.

Not guilty enough to alter the plan, but contrary to popular belief her conscience did speak up every so often. Still, Riza figured that when all was said and done, the Fuhrer’s wife would probably have cause to thank her.

Right before Riza usurped the throne. Which would have been left empty due to the death of the Mrs. Bradley’s husband at the hands of Riza’s allies. Or better yet, Riza herself, seeing as she still thought it naive to hope for the Fuhrer’s death. She’d seen him emerge from far worse incidents with little more than a papercut to show for it. Regardless, Riza planned on making sure the man’s heart wasn’t beating by the end of this day.

So maybe Mrs. Bradley wouldn’t be too appreciative, but Riza could be an optimist, if she wanted to. Certainly she’d have to become more of a silver lining sort of woman if she wound up on the throne.

It still seemed a ridiculous idea to her, as much as when Maes had first suggested it. She still thought Roy would have been better suited to the task. But Riza wanted it, especially now that she could taste oncoming change in the air. She wanted it more than she’d wanted almost anything else, and as she devoted more and more thought to it, she just got hungrier.

This line of thought had the somewhat inconvenient side effect of making her resent the Fuhrer even more than she already did— something she hadn’t deemed possible —for standing in her way. But Riza was something of an expert in hiding her feelings, and so she hadn’t let this steadily growing desire show any more than her hatred while the King kept her as a glorified hostage in his house.

None of the others had done anything that should clue Bradley in, either— even when the Promised Day began, Maes took the lead by all appearances.

The first time she realized that they might have a problem was when Central soldiers briefly cornered their group.

“You’re free to shoot everybody but Mustang’s woman!” one of the men shouted. No hesitation whatsoever.

Riza… froze.

They’d expected this, that the Fuhrer’s men wouldn’t hesitate to kill their hostage. They’d wanted this, even, because it would convince Mrs. Bradley to go with them willingly. And yet.

Mustang’s woman. The words gave her pause, and not because she’d never heard them before. She had, though perhaps not since Roy’s death, and hearing his name always brought pain with it. Still, even that she could withstand. She was no stranger to pain, either.

But why would these men want to keep her alive? Specifically?

Riza didn’t have the slightest idea, and she could admit to herself that it scared her.

She exchanged a look with Maes— he clearly didn’t have any idea, either, if the confusion and concern warring on his face were any indication.

Something to file away for later, then.

For now, these few soldiers wouldn’t present much of a problem.

“ Sacrifice.”

Roy kept hearing that word, and yet no one seemed inclined tell him what it meant. Usually, one wouldn’t make a sacrifice without a reason, without some higher purpose in mind, and Roy had long since known that somehow he would play an important role in the homunculi’s plans. A pawn in a position too crucial to let go until the most opportune moment arose.

A moment which, Roy also knew, was upon him.

Frankly, he couldn’t find it within himself to be afraid, after everything he’d already been through. He didn’t doubt the homunculi would still be able to surprise him with whatever fresh horror they’d cooked up, but mostly Roy just needed a change. A bit of excitement. An opportunity to show his hand.

For all that the homunculi had claimed they needed him for something specific, he’d certainly spent a lot of time idle.

Them finally planning to put him to use, though? Roy didn’t exactly want to stick around to be sacrificed, but he figured he’d find out sooner or later, regardless of whether he succeeded in his escape.

Well. Roy had to admit, he was a bit curious about the whole thing. One could only hear a word like ‘sacrifice’ used in relation to himself so many times before he had some rather pressing questions.

Roy was at war in his own head, and he blamed the lacking company of late. In part, he didn’t want to know. All he wanted was his freedom back, his life back. His loved ones back.

After everything, all Roy wanted was to see them again. He felt certain that one of his people would make a far safer destination upon escaping than any place he could think of.

The other part of Roy, though? The part that Maes would call reckless, Riza would call stupid, and Ed would call ‘bastard?’ All that Roy wanted was the excuse to put up a fight.

Maes had known it even at the academy, but it became far more clear in Ishval and its aftermath; he’d never felt safer than when fighting with Roy by his side.

He’d weathered plenty of storms without his best friend, by now, but Maes still couldn’t help his acute awareness of Roy’s absence on this particular day, in the battle for the country’s future. Perhaps that was why he’d taken a page out of Roy’s book with his approach.

Maes had always preferred to operate in stealth when possible, sticking with his knives and making use of bullets only when absolutely necessary. Today, though, even thelatter wouldn’t cut it. He could land a hit just fine, but he was no sniper. And besides, the advantage of operating in secret had passed. They couldn’t afford to pull any punches on the Promised Day, and regardless, Maes considered making a scene an important part of the occasion.

Something else Roy doubtlessly would have done.

The explosives Olivier Armstrong had given them lacked the precision of Roy’s alchemy— nothing would work as an exact substitute, of course —but they did just the same amount of damage, if not more so as a consequence of their unpredictability, though they’d avoided casualties thus far. He’d save the more powerful stuff for when they came face to face with the homunculi.

For now, Maes watched smoke rise into the air and felt almost as though he were carrying a piece of Roy with him. Like the letter he still kept tucked away in one of his pockets wasn’t enough. Like the mere memory of Roy didn’t sometimes exist as a physical weight; one he couldn’t bear the burden of, but couldn’t stand to let go, either.

He supposed he shouldn’t find the scent of ash in the air comforting, but… Maes had long since counted fire as a friend.

Hawkeye appeared out of nowhere, as she often did, startling Maes out of his thoughts as she rushed over to where he sat beside Charlie and one of his men— both out of ammo and worrying about when the supply unit would arrive. He turned to them.

“If it comes to it, you’re both free to leave me here and get yourselves out,” he said, jaw set.

“Roger that!”

Maes had expected it, if not necessarily so quickly. Still, with stakes this high, everyone deserved to make their own decision about whether or not they wanted to fight.

“I’m not going out surrounded by men,” Charlie said, and the other man nodded.

“I’ve got a wife waiting for me at home.”

The smile froze on Maes’ face. He could feel Hawkeye’s gaze on him, but he refused to meet it.

Gracia understood that he had to do this. She and Elicia would be on their way out of Amestris by now, and therefore out of danger. But neither of those facts made him feel any better about putting his own life at risk when she needed him. When both of their children needed him.

He couldn’t die today. He couldn’t leave her alone. But he couldn’t stand to sit out, either.

“It’ll all be over after today,” he’d told Gracia. “One way or another.” And he’d meant it. One last fight, for Roy. One last day of making sure that he hadn’t died for nothing. That his killer was brought to justice. That nobody else had to meet the same fate.

After this all ended, Maes would devote all his time to the family he still had. But today, he would avenge the brother he’d lost.

“You don’t say,” Maes replied, and lobbed another grenade through the bars of a nearby window. He’d be out of them soon.

Of course, the second he had that thought, an ice cream truck of all things swerved sharply around the corner.
Maes headed to the front, and the driver handed him a rifle immediately upon opening the door. He took it. “Thanks.”

“Long time no see, Colonel Hughes,” they said, and Maes froze. The driver let their hood fall, but Maes knew whose face he would find before he even looked up— he knew that voice. “Second Lieutenant Maria Ross, returning without orders!”

For several moments, Maes could only stare at her.

Ross smiled. “How’s your shoulder treating you, sir?”

“It’s very good to see you, but I didn’t hear that you were part of this operation,” Maes said as Lieutenant Rebecca Catalina explained the different types of equipment. He’d sat in the back of the truck, sandwiched between Hawkeye and Ross in the back of the truck. “How did you get your hands on this many weapons? Surely you must have had some help?”

He certainly hadn’t known about this much firepower coming in, though he was certain they’d need it. From Hawkeye’s expression, she also had no idea who the source could be. Someone from Xing, perhaps? Ross had come from that direction… so maybe Ling or Lan Fan had something to do with it?

Ross, if possible, looked even more amused by the question. “Would either of you like to speak to them personally?”

This was how Maes found himself being given a phone just a handful of minutes later, once they’d pulled over.

“Here you go, sir,” Ross said, her voice smug.

Maes simply stared at the receiver in his hand for a moment, then cleared his throat. “This is Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes of Central Command’s armed forces. Who do I have the honor of speaking wi—?”

“You can skip the formalities, Colonel.”

A beat of silence, in which Maes could once again do nothing but stand there, stunned. He would know that voice anywhere, too.

“In your hearts for eighty years, with anything you could want delivered to you any time, any place with just one phone call,” Havoc continued, “we’re your neighborhood Havoc General Store.”

And Maes beamed. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear your voice.”

“Don’t be too happy,” Havoc warned, with a laugh. “You haven’t heard the bill yet.”

Maes glanced at Riza, who was watching him curiously. “I suppose you’ll have to start a tab,” he said, then lowered his voice a bit. “And then when Hawkeye’s the Fuhrer she can pay you back.”

“Holding out on me, Hughes? I never took you for stingy.”

“Well, as you might’ve heard I’ve got a new baby on the way, so I can’t afford to be blowing my entire salary on explosives, no pun intended,” Maes said.

“Ah, yes! I did hear about that. Congratulations, sir.”

“Thank you, Havoc.” The moment he said the name, Hawkeye’s eyes widened, and she held a hand out for the phone. Maes grinned. “I’m sorry to cut our conversation short, but the boss wants to speak with you. You can discuss payment in more detail with her— I assume it won’t be an issue, with the promotion we’re planning her to have at the end of this.”

When Riza took the phone from Maes, he pretended not to notice the tears gathering in her eyes.

“Havoc,” she said, her voice all business, though her expression betrayed her joy. “Report.”

Olivier found it difficult to reign in her amusement. She sat, still, in her chair at the table, but the two other soldiers who had remained in the room couldn’t seem to stop pacing about.

“Hasn’t Hughes been caught yet?” one of them demanded, frustration clear, because of course these men assumed that the Colonel had planned the whole thing. Of course they would see Lieutenant Hawkeye as less of a threat.

She knew they didn’t see her as a threat either, otherwise there would be more men in this room.

“They aren’t killing our men, just whittling down our forces,” said the second man. Olivier figured that that had been Hughes’ idea, inspired by the late Colonel Mustang no doubt, and she couldn’t say she would have chosen it. A noble endeavor, to avoid casualties as much as possible, but she saw it only as delaying the inevitable.

For her part, she would not hesitate. She never did, and she refused to start now, when it mattered perhaps more than ever.

Olivier desperately wanted to join the fight, and she would soon. All these men had to do was give her the excuse.

“There’s no way they can keep up their crafty little charade.”

Ah, well. She supposed that counted.

“Colonel Hughes is too soft,” she said, and continued just as soon as the first man had finished agreeing with her. “Nothing, however, is softer than the Central forces who can’t catch him. It’s like watching children play tag.”

Of course, neither of the men cared for that statement very much. And they cared even less to hear that Briggs soldiers had joined the fray. Which would have been enough to make Olivier move from words to action on its own, but then one of the men pointed a gun at the side of her head.

“Have your soldiers pull out of there at once!”

Oh, please. “You’re the ones who stole the command of Briggs away from me. I can’t control them now any more than you can.” A lie, and everyone in the room knew it, but what would he do? Shoot her?

“Do you think you won’t pay for this?” the man asked, and Olivier stared down the barrel of the gun as it shook in his unsteady grip.

Maybe she would pay for this, but it wouldn’t be at the hands of him.

“What about you? Do you think you won’t pay for all of this? You don’t know anything about the man you follow, the one who calls himself ‘Father.’ You don’t know what he’s willing to sacrifice, and what he means to obtain.”

“We know enough,” he spat back, seething. “Those of us who are chosen will rise above the rest, and Amestris will change the world. It comes at a steep price, yes, but a worthy one. Why can you not understand that?”

Olivier understood plenty. “You’re both hopeless.”

“What did you—?!”

She stabbed him through the arm that held the gun before he finished speaking. Olivier caught it and pointed it straight at the other man before he could reach for his own weapon.

“Chosen, you call yourself. As if someone who watches the battlefield from afar deserves recognition and power. You exploit the suffering of others and call it a justifiable cost as long as you don’t have to feel the pain you inflict on the world yourself.”

The first man gasped, but he seemed to be in too much pain to speak. He twisted his arm as if trying to escape from her blade and only succeeded in worsening the injury.

“You would turn traitor?!” the second man demanded, distraught, and Olivier nearly laughed at him. If refusing to betray the people of Amestris made her a traitor to her country, then so be it. She’d never been much for following orders anyhow.

“Who knows? Once all this is over, I might be called a hero. However, you’ll find I’m not as merciful as the Hero of Ishval,” she said. “Or his men.”

Because Roy Mustang had shown mercy, whenever he was given the choice to do so, and he’d always encouraged his team to do the same.

The people he had left behind seemed far less likely to be forgiving in the wake of his death, and she had seen that firsthand, but they were still ruled by sentiment rather than logic.

Olivier had never really been able to make up her mind as to whether she hated or envied Roy Mustang’s bleeding heart. She’d never had the luxury to make judgements with anything other than her head. Ruthlessness over recklessness, always.

She had argued often with Mustang, when he was alive, about what kind of ruler Amestris needed, about which one of them would be better suited to the job. An open hand or an iron first.

Olivier had always told herself that she’d fight him tooth and nail to get to the top, but now she found herself wondering which one of them would have been proven right.

In a strange way, she wished she could’ve seen it. The throne didn’t seem quite so tempting, now that fewer people stood in her way. Sure, she’d given it some thought earlier, but now the seat sat empty again and she didn’t even spare it a glance. Now, she had a different job to do.

Olivier killed both of the men in the room, and stormed out into the hall.

For as much as Al boasted about being the smart Elric brother, he sure did feel like an idiot.

Even after the revelation of Selim Bradley’s true nature, he found it difficult to see the child as anything but exactly that— a child. Unthreatening in appearance and objectively small. Cut off from all light and therefore shadow as they were, Al didn’t feel as though he were in danger. Especially when he considered what had to be happening outside of the dome Hohenheim had made, Al couldn’t be bothered to worry about himself.

Which of course proved unwise.

He didn’t realize that Selim— Pride —was tapping out some sort of signal on his helmet until Heinkel told him, and by then the damage had already been done. He’d just thought Pride was… bored. Al felt pretty bored too, after all, with nothing but his thoughts and that incessant metallic drumming to occupy his time. Stupid.

He wasn’t bored for very long.

With almost no warning, the side of the dome exploded inwards, and Al’s eyes adjusted to the backlit silhouette of someone he would’ve been very happy to never encounter again standing there.

Kimblee.

The Crimson Alchemist presented enough of a threat on his own, but Pride would be able to use his powers again, too. Al couldn’t bring himself to tear his gaze away from Kimblee just yet, but he didn’t feel comfortable with his back to the homunculus, either.

Alphonse Elric had faced worse odds, sure, but never on his own. He’d heard Heinkel scream after the explosion, and Kimblee stepped on the man’s glasses as he moved closer.

“Thank you very much for coming to get me, Kimblee,” Pride said, with a smile.

“Good grief. Just please don’t make any more work for me,” the other replied, then turned to Al. “Hello, Alphonse Elric. It’s been a while since we last met in Briggs. I wish you would have made time for a proper goodbye.”

Of course Kimblee would start running his mouth the moment he’d shown up. Al shouldn’t have expected anything less.

“You tried to get my brother to kill people for you,” Al pointed out, bristling.

“Yes, yes.” Kimblee waved a hand dismissively in the air. “I also tried to kill your brother, but I hear it didn’t take. There seems to be a lot of that going around with you alchemists.”

And. Al just. Froze.

Dimly, he registered Pride hissing something at Kimblee as he strode forward, and then the two of them began talking together.

“Please, he’ll find out sooner or later,” Kimblee was saying, but Al couldn’t catch much more over the sudden racing of his thoughts.

Find out what?

Despite his first instinct to worry about his brother, thankfully Al knew Ed was fine. He’d just seen him, after all. Learning that Ed and Kimblee had fought in Briggs… Al didn’t exactly like it, but he’d figured something other than the snow must have happened to keep his brother from finding him.

He’d just have to talk about it with Ed later. For now, it just made him want to fight Kimblee himself. Not that he stood much of a chance.

But who else had Kimblee been talking about? Armstrong? Their teacher?

A cough from several paces away startled Alphonse out of his thoughts, and he quickly turned to see Heinkel had propped himself up against the side of the dome.

“Mr. Heinkel!” Al cried, and started forward. The man only coughed again in response, blood escaping from his lips.

Before he could make it more than a few feet, he felt Pride’s shadows tugging on his legs. Al didn’t even hesitate before cutting them from the rest of his armor and rushing to the injured chimera under cover of the smoke his transmutation had created.

“Come on,” Al said, wrapping an arm around Heinkel’s shoulders. “We’ve got to get you out of here.”

Heinkel shook his head, though it must have pained him even to move that much. “We’ll never escape in time. I’ll just slow you down.”

Al felt a rush of irrational anger. “I’m not leaving you,” he snapped. How much time had he spent swearing he wouldn’t let anyone else die? Besides, it wasn’t as if Al could move very fast himself, like this. “And I can’t fight them both on my own, so—”

“Yes, you can.”

Al looked down to meet the man’s resolute gaze, uncomprehending. “But—”

This time, he cut himself off as Heinkel opened his hand. A philosopher’s stone sat in his palm.

With the life he led, Edward Elric had gotten pretty good at knowing when all hell was about to break loose. Sort of a given for the ‘Promised Day,’ granted, but he had it down to an exact science.

For example— he knew that things were about to break bad even before he heard the horrific shrieking coming from beneath the Third Laboratory. Honestly, Ed was convinced nothing ethical had ever happened in any of the laboratories, so he figured it was as good a place as any to seek out the end of the world.

Somehow, though, Ed still hadn’t expected things to go so poorly so fast. Despite the universe’s tendency to sabotage him at every turn. Why had he thought, even after months of preparation, that the Promised Day would be any different?

First, he couldn’t even pry the door open. Then, before he even tried using alchemy, Scar stepped in all ready to save the day. God, Ed still could hardly stand him, but it was easier now that he’d actually seen Winry and Al alive for himself.

Finally, with what Ed had briefly believed to be a stroke of luck, the door opened all on its own. And an immortal, invincible army poured out.

He barely had time to think oh, of fucking course before he was forced to fight for his life.

Now, Edward was no stranger to fear, but he did like to think he could handle it pretty well. He’d faced Scar, and Kimblee, and more than one homunculus at once, and come out on the other side every time.

He’d visited Hughes in the hospital. He’d seen Hawkeye in more fights than he could count. Winry, pointing a gun at scar. Scar, pointing a gun at Roy.

Ed had lost far too many people to pretend he was above fear. He’d nearly lost his brother back when they were kids, and the terror had been all-consuming then, desperate enough for him to give a limb away without a second thought.

He did find it far easier to fight through fear when he only had to be scared for himself. Still, Ed refused to let the fact that he was afraid make him weak.

But. It was impossible for him to feel anything other than weak, right now.

These zombies got back up after every hit, and even Scar’s destructive power didn’t slow them down at all. The chimeras seemed to fare better, but for all intents and purposes these things seemed impossible to kill. And Ed wasn’t even sure if he could bring himself to do it, possible or not. They had real people’s souls in there.

Taking out their legs seemed to work, but they were just so many of them— more and more flooded into the room at every moment. Ed had sealed up the exit, at least, but if nothing changed then they would all die in this room.

Kill or be killed, Ed thought, thinking of when Hawkeye had given him her gun. Fight like your life is on the line, because it is. He didn’t have a gun now, though he supposed he had no way of knowing whether bullets would even work, either.

But Ed had his alchemy. So, he clapped his hands together, pulled a weapon out of the ground, and fought.

Roy figured the screaming and sounds of explosions were as good an excuse as any to finally blow a hole in his cell walls. Of course he had no idea what he would be escaping into, but the fact remained that he would be escaping. And at least the homunculi wouldn’t hear him do it over this racket, if they were even around in the first place.

He hadn’t seen Envy in ages, and neither Wrath nor Pride had come into his cell for what had to have been at least a day now, though he could never be quite sure. This was either a tremendous oversight on the homunculi’s part— which Roy doubted —or something had prevented his captors from paying him a visit. He didn’t know which possibility made him more uneasy.

At any rate, Roy didn’t have the slightest idea whose job it would be to sacrifice him when the time came, but he wasn’t about to stay and find out.

Still… not for the first time, he longed for his gloves. Once he did this, there would be no going back. Roy would be forced to roam these tunnels alone, encountering only god knew what with no weapons, unless his crutches counted.

Honestly, Roy felt like he could land a pretty solid hit with one of them, at this point. But no matter how much practice he’d had, the fact remained that he couldn’t move anywhere near as fast as he had once been able to.

Part of him wondered if the smarter choice would be to stay here, stay safe. Roy couldn’t count on a rescue, though, and he knew it. Anyone who would have helped him had long since believed him six feet underground.

Maybe it made him an idiot, but Roy would face his death fighting, not as a sitting duck. He could live with being an idiot, or live with dying one, but Roy Mustang would never be a coward.

So, he slammed a hand against the transmutation circle he’d carved on the wall, and activated it. A crackling blue light filled the dim room, and the wall came crumbling down in pieces, revealing an empty tunnel beyond it.

And Roy just stared for several moments, floored.

The unnerving shrieking had quieted. The rubble shifted one final time, then stopped. Suddenly, after the dust from his alchemy settled, all he could hear was the sound of his own ragged breathing.

For months of his life now, all Roy had known were these same four walls. The idea of an escape, after all this time, felt too good to be true. Roy half expected Envy to jump out from around the corner, because he just couldn’t comprehend it.

It couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be this easy, not when his earliest attempt had cost him so much. Not when Roy had never been lucky a day in his life.

But though Roy’s current circumstances seemed too good to be true, the empty tunnel in front of him was equally too good to pass up. He tried his best to not entertain hope in case it proved false, but he fought a losing battle. He’d had what felt like forever to build up the idea of an escape in his mind, and of everything that could come with it, of everything it meant.

He could get his life back, or what was left of it.

No, he would. He would get out of here. He would get the people he cared about back. That thought, more than anything, was what made Roy take the first step. He knew for a fact that the fight wasn’t over yet, and he couldn’t very well continue sitting here helpless if he expected any shred of his reputation to remain intact. His loved ones could be in danger, and Roy Mustang had never needed more reason than that to spur him into action before. Why would he start now?

Maybe the tunnel ahead of him lead into a trap, and he’d be playing into the homunculi’s hands. Maybe he’d die before he could ever find his way out. Maybe leaving this cell meant walking towards his own doom, but at least he’d be walking, as best as he was able. Moving forward, not sitting still.

Envy refused to believe that anything about Roy Mustang could be worth their jealousy.

They had spent enough time around the Flame Alchemist to figure they knew him pretty well, by now, and the man was an idiot. Envy had never met someone so unabashedly mortal before. Roy Mustang clung to every shred of humanity he had managed to claw back after Ishval, even though discarding such sentimentality would have made him a far more formidable foe. He held onto his principles, his friendships so openly and desperately that he made it clear to his opponents exactly what he was afraid to lose.

Envy would never understand it. They would never understand him— arrogant and reckless at every available moment, though he knew he was doomed to die. Weak.

Where did he get off, telling Envy that they were pathetic? When they could remember the look on Mustang’s face every time they disguised themself as someone he loved?

The pained shock when Envy shot him as Lieutenant Hawkeye. The desperate hopelessness when they begged for his help as the Fullmetal Alchemist.The quiet horror when they died in his arms as a blood-covered Maes Hughes. Pitiful.

But as much as Envy despised Roy Mustang, and as little as they understood him, the fact remained that he at least had walls to his cell.

Envy was aware that Mustang hadn’t exactly had an easy time of it, which they could take a large portion of the credit for. But after being confined to a suffocatingly small space and carried around like this little girl’s pet, Envy found they did have something to be jealous of.

Not anymore, though.

Granted, Envy hadn’t particularly enjoyed slamming against the sides of the glass jar as the little Xingese girl ran or being nearly eaten by one of the mindless immortal soldiers, but the reward of getting their power back was well worth it.

The girl— Mei Chang—stared in horror as Envy jumped from one puppet to the next. With each absorption, they felt more and more like themself. Finally, they had enough to take their favorite form and stand on two legs once again.

“I’ve regained life,” they declared, unable to help the laughter that quickly overtook the words. Mei took a tentative fighting stance the moment they turned their attention on her. “Thanks for bringing me this gift, little girl.” And Envy lunged.

They were only able to take a few swings— all dodged by the little brat, of course —before more mannequins rounded the corner. Infuriatingly, the girl acted as if she believed they posed a larger threat than Envy.

“Not again!” she cried, in her shrill voice, and delivered a swift kick to the one closest to her. She shrieked when it simply popped its neck back into place, and Envy couldn’t resist a smirk.

“It’s no use,” they told her, amused. “These mannequin soldiers have been infused with Philosopher’s Stones. You’ll have a hard time killing them.” Envy had to respect that she’d gone right for the kill shot immediately, though. They stretched an arm out towards her, and latched onto another one of the puppets when she ducked out of the way. “You’ll have a hard time getting out of here, too. If you keep dodging, I’ll just keep growing stronger, and then you’ll be in even worse trouble.”

“Trouble?” the girl echoed, and seemed to consider this. “I don’t think you get it. When those mannequins come after me in large numbers, I’m definitely in trouble. But running away from you alone is simple, especially if you’re going to keep getting rid of my other obstacles.”

Ugh. This kid was insufferable. Envy didn’t dignify that with a response, they just lunged for her again. She once again quickly darted out of the way and began sprinting in the opposite direction. They very nearly went after her. But.

It wasn’t worth it. If she somehow managed to find a Philosopher’s Stone down here, what would it matter? Envy knew their best option was to stay here and continue regaining their strength so that they could be at their best for what was to come.

The Promised Day had arrived, the fight had already begun, and Envy couldn’t afford to waste any time if they wanted to do their part. Too much was at stake to worry about some random girl from Xing. Envy had considerably bigger fish to fry.

Namely? Roy Mustang.

Just thinking about the miserable little Flame Alchemist made the homunculus’ blood boil, but personal vendetta aside, they needed to make sure that everything could still go according to plan. Envy didn’t have any clue where Wrath and Pride were— or about anything going on, really, and who could blame them —but someone needed to force the man to perform human transmutation so he could be sacrificed, now that the time had come. Before Envy’s untimely capture, they felt they’d been pretty convincing in their argument that they should get to do the honors. Or at least be able to watch.

Envy enjoyed few things in their life more than watching Roy Mustang suffer, after all. They hoped that they’d finally get to actually kill the bastard once everything was said and done, but for the time being? They had to find him, first, and they were looking forward to it.

A wide smile stretched across Envy’s face.

Alphonse considered himself a patient person, even when faced with people he didn’t like. Or, in this case, people who actively wished him harm. Under these circumstances, though, he felt he could be forgiven if that patience wore a little thin.

Besides— Al didn’t understand it in the slightest, but somehow Kimblee managed to get under his skin in a way that even the homunculi couldn’t. The Crimson Alchemist just took such clear joy in being cruel, and he made everything personal.

All of that was only made worse when Al remembered that he was just a man. No Philosopher’s Stone inside him, no supernatural powers, just… an alchemist, like Al himself.

Except they were not at all alike, actually. And Al knew Kimblee would agree, considering how their conversation had gone so far.

They stood several paces away from each other, Kimblee with his arms crossed over his chest and Al already half turned away, braced to run. It felt strange, talking like this. Debating the ethics of using a Philosopher’s Stone and the possibility of saving everyone as casually as if they were speaking about the weather.

Even more strangely, Al felt calm, too. Until Kimblee threw him completely out of his depth.

“I must admit, I’m surprised to see you using the stone at all, though you’ve said it isn’t for yourself,” he said. “Your brother seemed quite opposed to the very idea in Briggs, you see. However, perhaps it makes sense. You considered Roy Mustang a mentor, correct?”

Al hated himself for it, but the question did throw him off. “What?”

“The Flame Alchemist I met in Ishval would have used a Philosopher’s Stone in a heartbeat, though admittedly he would have been reluctant to do so in the war itself,” Kimblee mused. “I don’t doubt that he would use one now, too, if he thought it could help him.”

And Al’s entire train of thought screeched to a halt. All of his composure dissolved in the space of a second. What did Kimblee mean, ‘now?’

“Mustang is dead,” he said, slowly. Al had meant for the words to sound certain, but instead his voice shook horribly and a note of hesitance had entered into it. Because…

“There seems to be a lot of that going around with you alchemists,” Kimblee had said, specifically about not dying.

It’s not possible, Al thought, immediately, though he knew that there was a chance Kimblee could be telling the truth, however slim the possibility. But… but…

It still couldn’t be possible, if only because of everything it would mean. If the Colonel was alive, it meant he was alone, and had been for so long, Al could hardly stand the thought.

Kimblee seemed oblivious to Al’s inner turmoil— or at least didn’t care about it —and continued. “Ah, I forgot for a moment that you weren’t in the loop,” he said, clearly lying through his teeth. “Well, as I told Pride, you were going to find out anyway. I paid your precious Colonel a visit not too long ago, and I can assure you that Roy Mustang is very much alive.Though he might not be by the day’s end.”

He grinned, wide and sadistic and chilling, and Al repressed a shudder as he forced himself to think rationally. Kimblee already knew that even mentioning Mustang’s name would hurt him. He was just saying this to get under Al’s skin. That had to be it. He had to be lying.

But why would he choose to lie this way? Why would he ever think Al would believe it? Why, when talking about Mustang’s death would have served Kimblee’s intentions just as well?

Only one answer made sense, really— because it was the truth. Why would Kimblee bother to make up a lie when he knew the truth hurt more?

Roy Mustang was alive. Which meant he had been for months, and none of them had known. None of them had helped him. He must be hurting, scared, lonely. And none of them had known.

And if Kimblee could be trusted— which Al seriously doubted, but he didn’t have much else to go on beside the man’s word, right now —Mustang was in danger.

Al clenched his fists at his sides. “Where is he?” He hardly recognized his own voice, or the anger in it.

Kimblee just kept smiling, and said nothing.

Al seethed. “WHERE?”

“Does it matter?” Kimblee asked, sounding pleased. “You’ll never make it in time, anyway.”

“In time for what?”

“To stop them from sacrificing him,” Kimblee said simply, as if it made all the sense in the world. “You didn’t think they’d keep him alive without reason, did you? If they didn’t need him alive, I would’ve killed him myself.”

Al shook with barely contained rage. “You… you...”

Kimblee continued, undeterred. “But hey, you and your brother are sacrifices, too, right? Maybe you’ll all meet again on the other side.”

Al took several steps forward before he could think better of it. “How dare you—”

He cut himself off with a gasp when Kimblee opened his mouth, smiling again to show off the round Philosopher’s Stone between his teeth.

“Didn’t the Flame Alchemist ever teach you to not let your guard down?”

The fight continued, and Kimblee didn’t say anything more on the subject. Not that he really got the chance to.

Later, while they all rushed towards Central and Al tried to stop thinking about the fact that Kimblee would likely succumb to his injuries, he realized something.

Dr. Marcoh had told Al and his brother that Envy killed Mustang. That the homunculus spoke about it when they’d had Marcoh in their clutches. And while that very well could’ve been true, still…

Al remembered that Ed had originally asked Scar about Roy, who hadn’t answered. Scar, who had helped Marcoh escape from being held captive.

Al knew that if Mustang were still alive, he had to be trapped. He wouldn’t have let them believe he’d truly died otherwise, and the homunculi wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to make him appear dead only to let him roam free. Kimblee had said the homunculi were keeping Roy alive, which meant they were keeping him somewhere. It was why he’d demanded to know a location.

Judging by Marcoh and Scar’s reactions back then in Briggs, Al was willing to be that the doctor and Mustang had been kept in the same place. But he needed to confirm it before he allowed his anger to consume him all over again. Before he allowed himself to hope.

“Dr. Marcoh,” he began slowly, and was surprised by how calm he sounded. “Before, when I was talking to Kimblee… he told me something.”

The doctor immediately tensed, and Al felt his stomach drop.

“I wanted to ask if it was true,” he continued, though he felt like his question had been answered already. He still… he needed to hear Marcoh say it.

“He made Scar and I promise not to tell anyone,” was the first thing out of the doctor’s mouth. “He knew that you would want to go after him.”

Al felt, for a moment, like he was back in Colonel Hughes’ office the day he first found out. After all, here he was, listening to someone he trusted try to explain why they’d lied about something so important.

And then thinking about Mr. Hughes and Lieutenant Hawkeye at all sent his thoughts reeling in a completely different way, because oh god, they still didn’t know. Neither did Ed, for that matter.

“Of course we’d want to go after him!” Al snapped, struggling to keep his voice down. “You should have told us, no matter what you promised.” Then, Al froze. “Why didn’t he want our help? Is he okay? Is he hurt?”

Marcoh hesitated for a second too long before speaking. “He… didn’t want any of you to put yourselves in danger.”

What the hell have we been doing all day then? Al wondered.

“You’re still keeping secrets,” he pointed out, furious. “You didn’t answer two of my questions.”

“I’m sorry,” Marcoh said, and to his credit he did sound genuinely apologetic, but Al really couldn’t bring himself to care. “I don’t think he’d want you to know.”

Al wasn’t even sure if he wanted to know himself, judging by the look on Marcoh’s face, but guessing at what could’ve been happening to Mustang for all this time felt infinitely worse. Still, maybe Al should focus on what he already knew, since he couldn’t very well do anything about the Colonel being hurt without finding him first. And after that, Roy could answer the questions himself.

Al realized, abruptly, that he might actually be able to talk to Roy again. It still didn’t feel real.

“I don’t want your apologies,” he said, after taking a moment to collect himself. “I can’t forgive you for this, not when I don’t know if he’s okay.” But then again, even Marcoh couldn’t know that for sure. He’d escaped a while ago. So much could’ve gone wrong in the time that had passed since.

“When we get to Central, we’re finding my brother so that we can decide what to do to help Roy,” Al pressed on, newly determined. “Ed will know what to do.”

Marcoh was already shaking his head. “Alphonse, we can’t change the plan now,” he began. “There’s too many uncertain variables to—”

“I won’t keep this from my brother,” Al cut him off, firmly. Absolutely not, under any circumstances, would he lie to Ed about this. And on the subject of lying— “You told him that Envy killed Roy.”

Marcoh winced. “Envy was the one to shoot Colonel Mustang that night—”

“I don’t care,” Al said, interrupting again. “Do you have any idea how set on revenge everyone has been since Roy died?” Himself included. “I have to tell them. If my brother runs into Envy… he could get himself hurt. But he’d approach that situation very differently if he knew Roy was alive. We all would’ve done things differently today if we’d known.” Because rescuing Roy should’ve been a priority. It would be a priority now, if Al had anything to say about it. It changed everything.

“I know you don’t owe me any forgiveness,” Marcoh said after a few moments, his voice soft. Heinkel and the others had been nothing but quiet this whole time. “But for what it’s worth, Alphonse, I am sorry. I would’ve told you the truth if Mustang asked me to, or if I thought anything could be done.” He sighed. “But you’re right, you deserved to know. I’ll apologize to your brother, too, when we find him in Central.”

Al just shook his head. “It’s not me or my brother you need to worry about,” he said, though he did fear Ed’s reaction. Lieutenant Hawkeye’s, too, but she wouldn’t hurt Marcoh. She’d be furious, yes, but she wouldn’t act on it. But… “If we’re too late to save Roy, Colonel Hughes will kill you.”

Ed had just begun to wonder whether he’d survived Kimblee just to be killed here, before they could even get to the real fight, when an explosion tore through the wall he’d sealed.

For a moment, all Ed could think was that another opponent had made a grand entrance and undone his work in one fell swoop, and he felt his heart seize in his chest. He couldn’t let these mannequin soldiers escape.

Then, another smaller explosion went off by the door, blowing up the mannequins that had surrounded them on that side. Colonel Hughes and Lieutenant Hawkeye stood in the gap, the former with another grenade in his hand and the latter pointing her gun.

Ed couldn’t keep from grinning when he saw them.

“Looks like you could use some help, Edward,” Hughes said, smiling back. “It’s good to see you, though I wish it were under better circumstances.”

“From where I’m standing, you’ve just considerably improved our odds with those things,” Ed told him, gesturing at the explosive in his hand. They’d been able to pin some of the immortal soldiers, but so far none had stayed dead.

Hawkeye fired off several shots into the air behind him, and Ed whirled around to see one of the things much too close for comfort. Right, he thought, as he stabbed at its legs with his spear. None of them could really afford to just stand and talk, especially considering how little the bullets had slowed the soldiers down. Even though all he really wanted right now was to give both of them a hug.

Hughes plucked the pin on his grenade and hurled it into a crowd of mannequins, then pulled out a gun of his own with a curse. “I’m afraid explosives won’t help much,” he admitted, as he fired on the ones closest to him. “I can’t afford to keep throwing these into the fray with so many people in such a small space.” His eyes scanned the room, and Ed knew the exact moment when his gaze caught on Scar. He visibly tensed. “I see you’ve made some new… friends.”

Ed couldn’t blame him for his obvious distrust. The last time Hughes had seen Scar, the Ishvalan had gone after Ed. And the time before that he’d almost killed Mustang.

Ed huffed, and swung at another immortal soldier. “I wouldn’t call it that,” he said. “Look, I’m not a big fan of Scar either, but the fact is we need his help.”

Hughes, to his credit, seemed to accept this with a nod, though Ed knew he’d likely have more to say on the subject later. “Is his destructive alchemy able to kill these things?”

“Not even a little bit,” Ed replied, and stifled a noise of disgust at the sound of one of the Colonel’s knives finding purchase. For whatever reason— the fight, the familiar faces —Ed didn’t really think before he spoke next. “You said we needed something precise, right? Hell, I wish Mustang were here, he could’ve taken care of these bastards in a heartbeat.”

No response, for a beat, and Ed mentally kicked himself. Probably not the best idea to bring up Roy when they were all sort of busy trying to win this fight. But Ed had meant it— no weapon they had could eradicate all of the mannequins, but they couldn’t very well run and potentially let these things loose, either.

“Edward,” Hawkeye said, and suddenly she was standing right in front of him, face slightly pale. “Ed. What do you know about Flame Alchemy?”

Ed blinked. “What do I know about it?” he echoed. “Uh, next to nothing. He kept those cards pretty close to the chest. But I know it could take care of this mess.” He narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

Wordlessly, the Lieutenant pulled a pair of familiar gloves from her coat pocket.

Ed was already shaking his head. “No.”

“You said yourself that it would help, and you’re right,” Hawkeye insisted. She held Mustang’s gloves out towards him, and Ed resisted the impulse to take a physical step back.

“I can’t,” Ed told her, and turned back towards the fight. “I can’t. I wouldn’t even know how, he never taught me anything about it.” He’d actually asked, once, to learn. Just the one time, since Roy’s response then had made it clear the very idea terrified him.

“Normally you would have had to study the theory, it’s true,” Hawkeye said, “and Roy destroyed my father’s notes. But you’ve seen the gate. Hypothetically, if that can allow you to perform other types of alchemy without a transmutation circle, you should be able to do this. Especially with the gloves— they’ll help you aim.”

Ed just shook his head again, and refused to turn and look at her. “I can’t.” In reality, he didn’t know if he could, though the Lieutenant’s argument made sense. But… “This isn’t anything like other alchemy. If I mess up, or my aim is just a little bit off, someone could get hurt.”

Mustang had said something very similar to him, back then.

“Edward, you can do this.” Hughes, this time. “I know you can. It’s our best shot.”

He was right. And Ed knew it. But even going for the legs of the mannequins made him want to be sick, because these were real people once. There were real souls inside them. How could he burn them alive?

Kill or be killed. He kept trying to remind himself, but that thought didn’t make it any easier to ignore the way the immortal soldiers cried out for people they’d known in their past lives.

“I can’t, I can’t,” he repeated, almost pleading now. He couldn’t, because… because… “He wouldn’t want me to.”

And that was the crux of it, really.

“How am I supposed to be a better alchemist than you if I don’t know Flame Alchemy?” Ed had demanded, years and years ago, back when his automail and Roy Mustang had both just become new constants in his life. He couldn’t comprehend, back then, how the man who’d offered him the job in the first place could refuse to teach him something so powerful.

Ed knew better, now.

“That’s easy,” Roy had replied. “You already are one.”

Even when he hadn’t understood Mustang’s motivations, he’d listened. He’d never tried to conjure up so much as a spark before. Because Roy hadn’t wanted him to.

“He wouldn’t want you to die, Edward,” Hawkeye said, her voice so soft that it barely carried over the din. This, finally, made him turn to look at her once more. She was still holding the gloves out to him, her hand shaking.

Ed took a deep breath. “Have you been carrying those around all this time?”

Hawkeye shrugged, somewhat helplessly. “Force of habit, I guess.”

Edward looked her dead in the eyes, then. This couldn’t be easy for her either. She’d made her stance on other people using Flame Alchemy perfectly clear on more than one occasion, as well. “Are you sure?”

At that, Hawkeye smiled. “If it has to be done, there’s no one I’d trust it with more.”

“Okay.” Before he could change his mind, he took the gloves and slipped them onto his hands.

It surprised him how natural they felt. Ed wore gloves of his own more often than not— just plain white ones —and the sensation at least was familiar, even if he could hardly wrap his head around it. These were Roy’s gloves. One of the many things he’d left behind.

If Ed had to do this, then he had to do it right.

He snapped his fingers.

Of course, he had the sense to start small— just targeting one of the immortal soldiers at a time, and starting with ones far from the center of the battle. However, it appeared that Ed shouldn’t have worried about his ability to control the power. It was more intuitive than he’d anticipated, almost easy. Horrifyingly so, even though the power still felt foreign at the edge of his fingertips.

Ed did his best not to listen as the mannequins screamed, their artificial bodies burning up. He just gritted his teeth and kept going. To be able to do so much damage so quickly… he understood even better now why Mustang refused to share the knowledge with anyone else.

The flames were almost beautiful, and they left nothing but ash in their wake.

Ed stood there in the aftermath, breathing hard and unsure whether it was because of the smoke or the panic he felt. Probably a bit of both. He could feel the others’ eyes on him, but he couldn’t tear his own gaze away from his hands. From what they had just done.

“Thank you, Edward.” Hughes’ voice. Ed’s head snapped up to look at him— the Colonel’s face had gone pale, but he wore an uncertain sort of smile. “I know that must’ve been difficult.”

The worst part was that it hadn’t been.

“You really are so much like him,” Hughes continued, and Ed felt his eyes sting. Words that had made him so happy under other circumstances now just added to the hurt.

Ed tore the gloves off, none too carefully, and Hughes made a wounded noise in the back of his throat. The remnants of a stifled protest. Ed didn’t care; he shoved them back towards the Lieutenant.

“Edward, you should keep those,” she said, tentatively. “You might still need them.”

Ed knew that the danger had hardly passed, he just didn’t care. Even if those mannequins weren’t real people, they had screamed like they were. They smelled like they were. “I don’t want them,” he told her, and his voice broke. He could taste ash on his tongue. “He… he would be so disappointed in me.”

“No,” Hawkeye said, immediately. “No, Edward, he would’ve been proud.” She took the gloves from him, tucked them back into her pocket, and then opened her arms.

This, finally, was too much. The tears that had welled up in Edward’s eyes spilled over as he collapsed into the hug.

He’d barely had a second to breathe when an all too familiar voice spoke up from the same doorway the immortal soldiers had come from.

“How touching!”

Ed shoved himself away from Hawkeye in an instant, and whirled around to face the sound. Sure enough, Envy stood there, a wide smile on their face.

Edward took a step forward, and Hawkeye made a grab for his arm. He pulled away.

“Well, don’t stop on my account,” Envy said, hands on their hips. They met Edward’s eyes. “I love a good reunion. How have you been, little Alchemist?”

“Lieutenant,” Ed began, and didn’t recognize the fury in his own voice. “Give me the gloves back.”

When Ed turned to look at her after receiving no answer her eyes had widened, but her expression quickly shuttered. After a beat, she shook her head.

“Edward, you don’t have to,” Hughes said, because he didn’t understand. “Hawkeye and I have handled a homunculus without Flame Alchemy before, we can do it again.” He glanced over at Envy. “Isn’t that right?”

This seemed to piss Envy off, but Ed had no interest in exchanging words with this thing, this monster. He lunged forward.

Or… he would have, if Hughes hadn’t grabbed him around the shoulders to hold him back.

Ed started struggling immediately. “Let me go,” he insisted, furious. “I have to—”

“You are a child,” Hughes interrupted. “I’m not just going to let you fight a homunculus, and certainly not head-on. Not again. We at least need to come up with a plan.”

Ed nearly growled. “You can’t stop me.”

Hughes looked down at him in shock for a moment, but then his gaze seemed to catch on something off to the side. Edward followed his line of sight to see that Scar had already started towards Envy. Zampano, Darius, and Jerso for now were just looking on in shock.

“Scar!” Edward called, still fighting to escape Hughes’ hold. The Ishvalan’s hands were already crackling with energy. “Tell them what you and Doctor Marcoh told me!”

Scar looked back at him, expression unreadable as always.

In that moment, Ed understood on a new level where Hughes had been coming from, back when he’d lied about Roy’s death. He and Hawkeye needed to know what Envy had done, but Ed desperately didn’t want to be the one to say it. To break the news and watch the grief on their faces.

Envy was watching all of this with a maddening smile on their face. “So many people who despise me in one room,” they said, amused. “Who shall I deal with first, do you think? Any volunteers?”

Ed did growl, then. He would gladly be the first in line to tear Envy apart.

Scar seemed almost as if he wanted to speak, but that precise moment was when Mei Chang decided to skid into the room. The Ishvalan’s attention focused on her as he said something, and she replied. Ed had no idea what the exchange involved, though he had known the two were working together in the past. He also didn’t care. The sudden blood rushing in his ears eclipsed almost everything else.

For some reason, Envy looked just as displeased by her sudden appearance as Scar did, though they appeared unbothered again moments later. “I suppose that counts, though I can’t imagine why you would come this way,” they said. “Did you get lost, little girl?”

Scar moved bodily in front of Mei, expression thunderous. Ed thrashed again in Hughes’ arms, but he didn’t let go.

“Edward, calm down,” he said, infuriatingly. “Why—”

And Ed? He spat the words like poison from his mouth. He hadn’t wanted to be the one to break the news, but he desperately needed the others to understand. To let him fight.

“They killed Roy.”

He felt Hughes go entirely rigid, the arms that held Edward tightening subconsciously.

A heavy beat of silence. Ed refused to look away from Envy, but he could hear the rage in Hughes’ response.

“They what?”

“They killed Roy.”

Maes was sure that he had stopped breathing. He almost couldn’t get his voice to cooperate so he could respond. When he did, it was barely a whisper.

He had thought things were going somewhat well so far. He hadn’t not been thinking about when and whether they’d find Roy’s killer, but so far he’d expended most of his energy making sure he and Hawkeye stayed alive. That mentality persisted once they’d been reunited with Edward and the immortal army the Fullmetal Alchemist had somehow stumbled into.

At least they didn’t have to worry about the mannequins anymore— Edward had reduced them to nothing more than ash and dust. Maes found it very difficult to feel good about this, though, when he’d seen the expression on the kid’s face.

He hadn’t watched anyone but Roy use Flame Alchemy before, and hell, it made his heart lurch. It felt like Roy lending them all a hand. It felt like fighting with his best friend at his side again.

Maes had been so thrown by the whole thing that he’d almost accidentally called Edward Roy’s name again, and Ed certainly did not need that adding to the emotional turmoil he already felt.

Even when Edward clearly hated that he’d had to use it, though, Maes couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. And Hawkeye was right— Roy would’ve felt the same.

He was about to offer Ed a hug as well when Envy barged into the room— Maes had never met the homunculus before, but he remembered the description. The moment Envy spoke, Ed made a sound like he’d been shot.

And Maes, of course, found out why soon enough.

“They what?”

For the briefest moments, in which all Maes could feel was the shock, he nearly let go.

And then Envy laughed.

“Well, this takes all the fun out of it!” they said, smiling widely at them both. Maes resisted the impulse to shove Ed behind him. “Who told you, kid?”

Maes tightened his hold on Edward, who had now renewed his efforts to throw himself at Envy with new vigor, because no chance in hell was Maes about to let that happen.

Ed let out a frustrated noise, but answered the question, his voice low and dark “Marcoh.”

Envy, for some reason, looked pleased by this. “Interesting!”

A click of safety turning off, and Maes looked over his shoulder to see Hawkeye aiming to put a bullet right between Envy’s eyes. To the average observer, she looked just as stoic and resolute as ever, but Maes could see the fury in her eyes. She glanced briefly at him and nodded once before focusing all of her attention on the homunculus again, and he knew they were at an understanding.

If Ed was right about this, Envy would not live to see the sun rise.

And Ed seemed pretty certain.

He was still struggling, but he let out a wordless yell of frustration when it became clear that Maes would not release his arms.

“Let go of me!” Ed’s voice broke, and Maes squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “What are you doing?! They killed Roy!” Every word felt like a knife. A sharp, stabbing pain in Maes’ chest.

“All the more reason for me to not let them anywhere near you,” he said, voice firm. Ed went still in his hold, and Maes took the opportunity to focus his attention on the homunculus in front of him. He sized Envy up for a moment, then simply asked, “Is it true?”

Because he didn’t want to believe it. And after searching for Roy’s killer for so long, he almost couldn’t believe it— that his search ended here. That he was face to face with what had taken his best friend away from him. That Envy had even been able to do it.

Looking at them now and knowing how strong Roy was, Maes just couldn’t quite picture it.

But then Envy laughed, loud and delighted, and Maes felt his blood boil. The homunculus spread their hands wide, as if waiting for applause.

“Congratulations, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes! You finally found out who shot your precious Flame Alchemist.”

Maes clenched his fists. “Prove it.”

He only registered what he’d said a moment later, and he almost couldn’t believe it. Neither could Edward, judging from the expression on the kid’s face. Hawkeye, just a step or two behind them both, inhaled sharply.

Somehow, Maes didn’t regret the words. No matter what Envy or Edward said, he still couldn’t comprehend it.

Envy sneered, looking almost affronted. “Prove it?” they echoed in disbelief. “Of course! What a brilliant idea! Do you want to know what he looked like that night, as he lay dying? Would that be sufficient ‘proof’ for you?”

Maes made a conscious effort not to flinch.

“No?” Envy pressed. “Well, does it make you feel better to know he didn’t die instantly? I shot him in the stomach, and boy, did he bleed for a while before the end.”

Maes set his jaw. Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t—

“What if I told you he had already called someone when I arrived?” Envy asked. “Would that be proof enough? He held onto that phone like it could save his life, but nobody ever picked up. I wonder what his last words would have been.” They smiled, unforgiving. “Was it you on the other end?”

“That’s enough!” Maes had a knife in his hand. Somewhere during Envy’s speech he had let go of Edward, but he still hadn’t moved. Ed just stood there, trembling slightly.

Envy seemed unimpressed. “What are you so up in arms about? You asked for proof,” they said. “If you really cared so much about Mustang—” and the past tense stung, just as it always did, but even more coming from them— “then why not answer the phone? Why work with him?”

Here Envy gestured at Scar, and Maes bristled. That hadn’t exactly been his idea, after all.

“Last I checked, everyone in this room hated each other,” the homunculus continued, hands on their hips. “Scar has tried to kill Mustang before, too, in case you’ve forgotten.” As if Maes would ever forget that. Scar’s expression remained unreadable. “Don’t get hostile with me just because I actually managed it.”

Maes narrowed his eyes. “Last I checked, Roy was far more powerful than you,” he said, and was proud when his voice didn’t waver on was. “I asked for proof because I find it a bit hard to believe.”

Something shifted in Envy’s eyes, their smile suddenly appearing more dangerous. Maes took a little pride in the fact that he’d apparently upset them, but he also meant every word. Roy couldn’t have died by this pitiful creature’s hand. Envy had to be lying.

And then—

“Fine,” Envy spat, red energy crackling around them. “You want proof?”

Maes watched, horrified, as they slowly transformed to look exactly like Lieutenant Hawkeye. A perfect copy, except for the smile. Maes had never seen Riza smile like that. It wouldn’t have fooled someone who really knew her.

It wouldn’t have fooled Roy.

But Maes knew his best friend, and he knew that Roy wouldn’t have lifted so much as a finger against Envy anyway, if they looked like that.

Hawkeye knew it, too. She made a devastated sound, and it took all of Maes’ strength not to look at her, not to comfort her, not to take his eyes away from the monster in front of him.

The monster that had… killed Roy. He could no longer deny it.

Envy’s laughter rose in pitch. “I wonder if I’m really that outmatched by your Colonel, if he couldn’t even stand to send so much as a spark my way when I looked like this. And he didn’t fight back when I looked like you, either, Hughes.”

Maes stood there, rooted to the spot while he was consumed with rage. Burning up his blood from within, turning his insides to kindling.

Finally, the sound of a gunshot startled him out of his silent fury. Hawkeye had fired a bullet right between the homunculus’ eyes. Their smile grew as blood spilled from the wound, their face still a mirror of Riza’s.

Maes glanced back at her. The Lieutenant’s teeth were bared, her expression murderous even as tears streamed down her cheeks. She hadn’t hesitated for a moment. Of course she hadn’t.

“You bastard,” she hissed, and took aim once again.

“The look on his face when he saw me in this form, when someone he trusted with his life shot him, was terrific,” Envy said. The wound in their forehead healed itself, and they didn’t seem bothered by the threat of more bullets. “I could show you that next, if you’d like”

The very thought of Envy using their powers to look like Roy made Maes feel sick.

“No, you’ve already done plenty,” he said, his voice cold and unsteady. “Thank you very much, Envy. That’s all I needed to know. You’ve signed your own death warrant.”

Envy scoffed. “You really think you can kill me?”

“The Lieutenant and I killed your friend Lust some time ago,” Maes reminded them, and found himself pleased at the way Envy’s eyes flashed with rage, and some other emotion. Fear? Maes couldn’t be sure. “I can’t imagine you’d present much more of a challenge.”

This seemed to amuse Envy almost more than their part in Roy’s murder. They laughed as red lightning crackled around them once more.

Maes took several steps forward, ready to fling a knife at the homunculus’ jugular. He didn’t care to see whose face they planned to wear next. Which of his loved ones they would use against him.

He stopped short when he felt a hand on his arm. Edward, pale and still shaking, had a clear message in his eyes. For a split second, he had no idea why. But then he looked back at the homunculus.

Rather than just adopting another disguise, Envy had chosen to reveal their true form. Clearly Edward had seen it before, and Maes couldn’t blame the kid for holding him back. Envy now towered over them all, their body a huge, hulking green thing that stood on four legs instead of two.

Well. Perhaps they would present more of an obstacle than Maes had thought, then.

The homunculus hadn’t stopped laughing, either, but as they changed so did their voice— now lower, layered, ghoulish. Envy’s face also grew more unnatural as it elongated into a snout. Their already unnaturally wide smile appeared even more grotesque in this form. More nauseating still were the other faces that almost seemed to be struggling to escape from Envy’s skin, the souls of the Philosopher’s Stone all of the homunculi kept at their core.

Maes couldn’t wait to pry it out, just as he had with Lust.

Strangely, this latest development finally allowed Maes to move past his shock. He put it and the grief to bed so he could be left with the rage, the only emotion he would need now to deal with this creature.

He didn’t wait for Envy to continue where they’d left off. He threw a grenade into the homunculus’ still open mouth, and their shrieking laughter turned quickly into screams of another kind, and then silence.

Maes’ lips twitched with the ghost of a smile.

Envy had already started reforming, pieces of green flesh fusing together as they rebuilt their massive form, and Maes strode forward, his eyes scanning for any sign of the Philosopher’s Stone.

But truthfully, he wasn’t in any real rush to find it. This was only the beginning of Envy’s suffering. Maes wouldn’t allow them to die until they’d paid for Roy’s death in blood.

He’d learned from fighting Lust— invincible though the homunculi seemed, they did take damage. More often than not it just didn’t stick, but after enough injuries the unnatural healing speed would diminish and then cease altogether.

Maes didn’t have a problem with that; he’d always considered himself very patient.

Envy had once again reached their full height, and they looked rattled. “Your human weapons won’t work on me.” They spoke the word ‘human’ like a curse. “Lust was nothing. A human, once, too. Did you know that? Like the Fullmetal Alchemist’s friend from Xing.”

Ed tensed. “I should have left you in that void,” he said, eyes on the homunculus. Maes had no idea what he was talking about. “Ling and I could have escaped without you. After everything you’ve done, you deserved to rot in that hell forever—”

“Oh, get over it,” Envy interrupted, and waved a hand. “Haven’t you got bigger problems right now? Worry about yourself, kid.”

Maes saw red and remembered again what Envy had once called Edward— sacrifice. “You won’t touch him.” Over my dead body.

Envy only seemed bemused by this. “Should I be scared of you, Lieutenant Colonel?”

If you had any sense at all, yes. “You’ll find Edward far more forgiving than I am,” he settled on saying, after a beat.

“I have to wonder why you won’t let your strongest ally fight,” the homunculus replied, nodding at Ed. “Though I suppose you’ve come to the conclusion that even alchemy won’t do much, considering what happened to Mustang.”

Hawkeye weighed in on the conversation by shooting out both of Envy’s eyes, and then another several rounds into their mouth as they let out a cry of pain.

Maes hefted another explosive into his palm, seething. “You can’t fool us, Envy. You may be able to heal quickly, but that doesn’t change the fact that you still feel every blow.”

Envy surveyed them both after their eyes healed, their lips curled to reveal massive teeth. “So arrogant,” they said. “Just like your Flame Alchemist. What would happen to you, I wonder, if I shot you in the chest? You would die, choking on your own blood. As he did. Humans are so weak.”

“I can promise you that you’ll pay for that,” Maes told them. “You’ll pay with your life. I won’t settle for anything less. I won’t stop until you’re dead. I may be human, and weak in your eyes, but I wonder how much damage you can take before that form is spent?” He smiled at the monster in front of him, and it didn’t touch his eyes.

Envy met his gaze, silent.

“Come on, Envy,” Maes continued. “There are only a handful of humans here. Surely you like your odds?”

A heavy moment of silence.

“I could kill all of you,” Envy said, finally, “but unfortunately I have more pressing matters to attend to outside of this room.” Here their gaze landed on Scar, some emotion behind their eyes that Maes couldn’t read. “Your petty search for revenge is simply not worth my time. This has been fun, though.” They grinned, and red lightning materialized around them once again. “Catch me if you can, Colonel Hughes.”

In the space of a moment, Envy used their tail to throw some of the rubble towards him, then transformed back into their usual, smaller form. They disappeared back the way they had come.

Before Maes could do much more than burn with rage, Edward started after the homunculus, and Maes seized his shoulders once again.

This time, the kid didn’t put up much of a fight, he just slumped in Maes’ grip. “You heard them,” he said, and his voice shook as badly as the rest of him. “Alchemy is our best bet. I… I want to fight.”

Maes shook his head. “Hawkeye and I have agreed that we can’t allow Envy to live,” he said, his words soft. “But we can’t ask that of you, Edward.”

“I want them dead, too,” Edward whispered back. He sounded almost sure. “Give me the gloves back, Lieutenant.”

Hawkeye shook her head. “We won’t ask that of you either. Not ever again. Colonel Hughes and I will take care of Envy.” Maes couldn’t agree more. Using Flame Alchemy had clearly shaken Edward, and all Maes wanted now was to get him as far away from the fight as possible for as long as possible.

Edward opened his mouth again, a protest clearly on his lips, but Maes spoke up again before he could.

“Despite everything you’ve been through and how strong you are, Edward, you’re still a child,” he said. “If you’re anywhere near Envy, I won’t be able to focus on fighting them. I’ll be worried about them hurting you, too. I can’t let that happen.”

As a father, Maes couldn’t allow a kid within five paces of that murderer. And as a best friend, he especially couldn’t let Roy’s kid fight them.

All of the fight seemed to drain out of Edward in a moment. “I can’t,” he said, around a sob. “He would want me to, but I can’t. I can’t kill them.”

Maes, his heart breaking, enveloped the Fullmetal Alchemist in a hug.

“Roy would want you to be safe,” Hawkeye said, placing a hand on Edward’s shoulder. “He would never expect you to—”

“But I want to,” Edward interrupted, speaking into Maes’ chest. “I want them dead. But I… every time I look at them I can’t stop thinking about the souls trapped in their stone.”

“Ed,” Maes began, voice soft. The kid looked up at him. “I promise, it’s okay. Leave it to the adults for once.”

Edward sniffled, and Maes was once again struck by how young he was. He let himself forget about it too often, but not today. Not with Roy’s killer on the loose.

Ed took a step back from the hug, only for Hawkeye to take the opportunity to wrap both arms around him. He smiled, albeit shakily. “Okay,” he said, after taking a deep breath. “I’ll go.”

“I’ll go with him,” Scar added, immediately, and Maes blanched. Even Ed seemed confused by the declaration, but not afraid. He looked up at Hawkeye’s stony expression and shrugged.

“He’s on our side, now,” Ed offered, a little sheepish. “I’m not crazy about it either.”

Maes was beyond conflicted. On the one hand, Scar definitely counted as a powerful ally. If he truly was helping them, he would keep Edward safe. But on the other, Maes still couldn’t get the image of Scar seconds away from killing Roy out of his head.

“I won’t be alone with him, if that makes you feel any better,” Ed told him, and gestured at the others. Maes had noticed that the chimeras seemed particularly attached to the kid, but still. It didn’t.

But the fact remained that Maes needed to pursue Envy. And while he would hate to have Edward out of his sight, he would hate the alternative of letting the homunculus get away more.

He turned on Scar. “If anything happens to him—”

“I will not harm him,” Scar said, cutting him off. “You have my word.” To Maes’ surprise, Scar extended a hand, and Maes just stared at it. Unbidden, the memory of the deal Roy had made with Scar the day of his attack consumed his thoughts.

Hawkeye seized the hand instead and shook it, her expression grim.

Scar seemed to hesitate for a moment, then he spoke again. “I feel I should inform you that the path of revenge will not lead anywhere good.”

“An awfully inconvenient time for you to have such a change of heart,” Maes said coldly. “A bit hypocritical, don’t you think?”

The Ishvalan frowned.

“I know you’ve apparently turned over a new leaf, but that’s not going to happen for Envy,” Edward said. “They killed Roy, they deserve it.”

Scar opened his mouth, only to close it again a moment later. He nodded once, and turned away.

Maes stared after him for a moment, eyes narrowed, but quickly turned his attention back to Edward. Whatever Scar had been about to say, it didn’t matter right now. Nothing would change his mind about the fate that Envy deserved.

Hawkeye had enveloped Edward in a hug again. “Be careful,” she told him, her voice steadier by far than Maes felt. He would always be in awe of how she managed to keep a level head.

Ed laughed, a little wetly. “I’m always careful,” he said, and Maes felt that terrible pang in his chest again.

Maes ignored it, and tried for a smile of his own. “If only that were the slightest bit true. At least promise you won’t do anything stupid.”

With an eye roll, Ed let Maes hug him again, too. “I promise,” he said.

And all too soon he was gone, leaving only Maes and Hawkeye facing down the doorway that Envy had fled into.

“I hope you’re not thinking of sending me away from this fight too, sir,” she said, still sounding deceptively calm. “I would hate to have to disobey a direct order.” Formal military speech was an easy defense to fall back on in these types of situations, and Maes understood it considering Hawkeye had always had more decorum than him, but he still hated it a little

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he told her. “If all goes well at the end of this, I’ll be calling you ‘sir,’ so I think it’s safe to say you shouldn’t be taking orders from me even if I did deem it appropriate. The only one I would suggest is an echo of your own words— don’t die.”

Hawkeye nodded, once. Her knuckles on the hand that held her gone had gone white.

“We’ve killed a homunculus together before, and I know we can do it again,” he continued. “For the time being, though, I believe it might be in our best interests to split up. We can cover more ground that way. Less chance for Envy to escape.”

She nodded again. “If you hear gunfire, it means I’ve found them.”

And Maes nodded back. “I couldn’t think of a more appropriate signal.”

Riza Hawkeye had learned at a very young age that staying calm meant staying in control. That her heart would become a weakness if she wore it on her sleeve. That sentiment was best kept in boxes, tucked safely out of sight.

Roy Mustang was the one exception. The one person she’d never been able to do that with, never been able to hide her feelings for. She loved him, even now, and everyone knew it.

Envy had known it, when they cornered Roy that night.

They had known to use her appearance against him. They had known he wouldn’t fight back if they looked like her. They had worn her face as they killed the person she cared about most in the world, and then they had laughed about it. Delighting in the misery they had caused.

Riza would see Envy meet their end, or she would meet her own while trying, and she found she didn’t quite care which.

Except… that wasn’t entirely true, was it?

When Roy had died, she’d confessed to Maes that she’d contemplated ending her own life. Roy Mustang had been her only reason for living, once. She’d struggled with her purpose in the world he left behind, but she believed she found one.

Riza had sworn at Roy’s grave that she wouldn’t allow herself to rest until Roy had been avenged, and the Lieutenant Colonel had made the same vow at her side.

“If you follow me, for the time being, we will find out who did this, and we will take them down.”

That moment that felt like a lifetime ago. It seemed impossible to Riza that she’d finally reached the end of her road to revenge.

Almost, at least. She still had to make Envy suffer.

But after they were gone… after today, Riza didn’t think she’d be able to sit back and let others do the rest of the work. Even after they saved Amestris, someone would still have to fix it. And why shouldn’t it be her?

“ After that’s done, I think I’ll follow you.”

Maes’ idea, his words. Riza could picture Roy saying them, though. Was she a fool to believe that he would’ve wanted this, too?

Was she a fool to want it for herself?

Riza didn’t know. She didn’t even know if she could trust herself with the throne, after everything she’d done. Everything she still had to do. And yet she’d be damned if she trusted anyone else with it.

The only other person Roy would’ve trusted the future of Amestris with was Maes, she knew, and none of them wanted that. His family needed him.

And Riza…

She didn’t just want to stay alive to achieve some higher goal by becoming head of the country. She wanted to stay alive for others, for her own makeshift family— both lost and living. She owed it to them, and to herself.

She owed it to Maes, for all he’d done for her. They’d fought and bled and cried and laughed together, in the many months since Roy’s passing. They’d each been a pillar for the other to lean on, forming a close bond that began with shared grief and had since turned into one of the brightest parts of her life. She appreciated his friendship more than she would ever be able to convey.

She owed it to the rest of Mustang’s team, the people who she had shared a dream with for so long, and who she knew needed someone to follow. Falman, with his quiet patience. Breda, with his constant reassurance. Fuery, with his wide-eyed determination. Havoc, with his unshakeable smile. Everything they’d worked for with the Colonel couldn’t be in vain. Someone had to lead in his stead, and for reasons she barely understood herself, they’d all chosen her.

She owed it to Roy. Riza owed so much of who she was to him, in general. She couldn’t give up on the future they’d worked towards together just because he would no longer be a part of it. She couldn’t give up on this world. She owed it to him not because of his death, but because of the person he had been in life.Roy Mustang and their shared vision had meant everything to her. Riza had stopped blaming herself for his murder, but she would never be able to forgive herself if she let go of this goal.

She owed it to the Elrics, too.They were so young, with so much of their lives left to live. She wanted to make a better world for them, and not them alone, either. Winry, too, and Hughes’ children— all of them deserved more, and Riza was determined to give it to them. But Edward and Alphonse would always hold a special place in her heart. They’d suffered and seen so much.

Riza had been surprised by how little Ed using Flame Alchemy had bothered her. She was the one who made Roy promise not to teach it to anyone else, who begged him to burn the secrets off of her skin. And yet… strangely, seeing Edward use it, she felt none of the fear that had entered into her heart in Ishval. She knew with certainty that he would never use it against another person, that in fact he would never use it at all if he could help it. She felt guilty for even asking it of him. Edward Elric always stuck to his moral compass, to the point where Riza had worried in the past that it would get him killed. But today, she hadn’t been able to make herself feel anything other than pride.

She had worried, for a moment, when Ed had demanded the gloves back upon being faced with Envy… not that Riza blamed him for it. But ultimately, the good in Edward won out over his anger. The souls clamoring from under Envy’s skin made Edward remember himself, and she was glad for it. No amount of revenge was worth Edward losing himself on the way.

Riza wondered what that said about her.

She recognized she was taking a step in the wrong direction, but she just didn’t care. Her conscience had gone out the window the moment Envy admitted to their crime. She was glad Edward had decided to leave— no need for a child to witness what was about to happen. But Riza herself didn’t give a damn about the technicalities of right and wrong at present. Not with Roy Mustang dead and his killer breathing.

She wondered what he would think, if he saw her now. If he was somehow watching her storm through these seemingly endless tunnels with a fire in her eyes and a finger already on the trigger.

The thought only bothered her for a moment, however.

Because when Riza rounded the next corner, she froze as she was greeted with the face of the man she had mourned. A person she had not seen in what felt like ages, and who she had never hoped to see again.

Roy. Just few paces away from her.

She squeezed her eyes shut, but the damage had already been done. The sight had already ruined her, even though she knew it couldn’t be real. It was Envy, insulting Roy’s memory in an attempt to throw her off.

She didn’t want to let them see how well it was working, but she didn’t know if she could stand to look at the pretender in front of her again.

“Lieutenant?”

Suddenly, it didn’t matter what she could stand. That word prompted an involuntary response in her— when Roy Mustang called to her, she would always, always listen.

Riza looked at him, because it was impossible not to, and she drunk in the sight.

Dark hair falling into dark eyes. A hand held out to her, palm up. And that soft smile, the one he never thought she noticed.

She loved him. She would always love him.

For a desperate, irrational moment, she wanted to say it— the words she’d never had the strength to voice when Roy was alive. But she needed a different kind of strength, now. And she refused to give Envy the satisfaction.

Instead, she aimed her gun at the place where a human’s heart would be, and fired.

Though Roy had done his best to get stronger leading up to his escape, there wasn’t much to be done about the loss of a limb.

While he was confident he would be able to put up at least some semblance of a fight if he encountered any homunculi in these halls, his ideal scenario would be getting the hell out of dodge without bumping into anyone else.

That didn’t seem likely, though, considering he still couldn’t move very fast. No matter how much practice one put in with crutches, they still didn’t exactly encourage running.

But Roy figured he was making good time, even stumbling along like this, and he found it difficult to feel anything other than elated.

He was probably lost, definitely malnourished, and every step felt like an uphill battle. But he had escaped. He was free.

Roy still had a ways to go, sure, but he felt more free than he had been in… Christ, he didn’t even know how long. He felt more like himself.

Of course, he should have realized that the good luck couldn’t possibly last for much longer.

He rounded a corner and stopped in his tracks, because he would know the person standing before him anywhere, even with their back turned. No world existed in which Roy Mustang wouldn’t recognize his best friend, even if he knew it couldn’t be real.

Roy swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat. A memory snapped to the forefront of his mind, unbidden— Maes Hughes, bleeding out back in that cell. An image that had haunted Roy since the very first time the homunculus had decided to wear Hughes’ face.

I can’t do this again, Roy thought, somewhat hysterical. He couldn’t bear to watch Envy use his friends’ faces to torture him again, especially not when he was so close. Not when he’d finally let himself entertain the hope that he might see the people he loved, that it would be real.

He wondered if he could perhaps just turn around and head back the way he came without Envy noticing him, but the second he shifted on his crutches, the homunculus spun around.

The bullet struck the monster’s body, and Riza didn’t flinch even as blood began to soak the front of her Colonel’s uniform. Envy, still wearing Roy’s face, simply looked down at the wound and then back up at her.

Their smile grew wider, and it made her stomach turn to see on Roy’s face.

“When we were alone, the Colonel called me Riza,” she said, voice cold. Not technically true, but she would say anything to get Envy to change their appearance. “You can’t fool me with his face.”

“The two of you were that close, huh?” Envy asked, this time speaking in their own voice. “No wonder he couldn’t bring himself to shoot you.”

Riza tightened her hold on the gun. “You’ll find I won’t show the same hesitation.”

Envy had hoped to surprise her with this disguise, to get her to hesitate.

Riza Hawkeye didn’t make a habit of hesitating. By using Roy against her, by disrespecting him in this way, Envy had just made it much easier for her to condemn them to death.

“I suppose that you didn’t love him back, then,” the homunculus said, and the air filled with energy as the gunshot wound healed itself. “How sad.”

Any mercy Riza might have shown died right then and there.

Maes whirled around the second he heard a sound from behind him, still on high alert for when that homunculus, Envy, showed themself.

He could barely contain his rage, but he wouldn’t let it get the best of him. His anger would be fuel for Envy’s funeral pyre.

Maes seethed just thinking about it. That thing, that monster, had not only taken Roy from him, but they’d had the audacity to gloat about it after the fact.

They'd looked directly into Maes’ eyes and laughed as they transformed into Riza. “I wonder if I’m really that outmatched by your Colonel, if he couldn’t even stand to send so much as a spark my way when I looked like this. And he didn’t fight back when I looked like you, either, Hughes.”

Maes had been waiting for the moment when he’d be able to get revenge for his best friend’s death for months. Finally, finally, he had stood face to face with Roy’s murderer, and finally he would make them pay for what they’d done.

And Envy thought they could just run away?

Maes wouldn’t allow it. He wouldn’t let this chance escape. He’d been patient for far too long. Now, he was out for blood.

And so he spun around, pulling a knife out of his sleeve, telling himself he was ready to attack whatever form Envy appeared in next— only to freeze when his eyes connected with those of his disguised opponent.

He knew those eyes, knew them nearly as well as the ones he saw when looking in a mirror. He knew the face they belonged to; he saw it in his nightmares every night, covered in blood.

Maes didn’t let himself register more than that before a scream of fury left his mouth. Envy was doing exactly what they’d done to Roy, now— showing Maes the face of one of the people he had loved and trusted most in the world to kill him.

But Maes wouldn’t let himself give in, even after the rush of sorrow he felt at seeing Roy’s face in person again for the first time in what felt like years. He knew Roy was gone, and he wouldn’t yield to his murderer just because they knew how to hit where it hurt.

Maes started forward, livid, but stopped when Envy spoke— voice unexpectedly cool and collected, though it sounded... terrible.

“Well,” the imposter began, and yes, Envy’s voice was wrecked. So much so that it barely even sounded like Roy. That was the first thing that confused Maes enough to assuage some of the fury. The second was the words they said next. “I’m not going to fall for this again, Envy, especially not when you’re raging like that. Really, you should take my advice and work on your acting skills. All you have to do to make a convincing Maes Hughes is talk about your daughter. It’s not that hard.”

Maes hesitated, absolutely bewildered. “What are you playing at?!” he demanded, still fuming. Was Envy seriously calling Maes by their name to try and spin things around? What would that accomplish, unless someone else was present who could be fooled? Maybe they thought Hawkeye had come with him?

He hated that a part of him wanted to keep Envy talking just so he could hear Roy’s voice again.

The fake sighed. “Look, I get that you’re mad that I escaped, but you’re as good of a watch dog as you are an actor. I mean honestly, you haven’t been around in ages, what else was I supposed to do? Sit down and stay put?”

Maes’ eyebrows furrowed. “What are you talking about? Escape...?” This didn’t make any sense.

Another sigh. “What I’m trying to get at is I’m... I’m not going back to that cell alive. So, hurry up and sacrifice me already, if you plan to. But I’ll warn you, I won’t go down without a fight, even now.” Maes followed the gesture Envy made, and his eyes widened.

The person before him did look exactly like Roy, yes, but on closer inspection Maes realized someone who knew the Flame Alchemist less well might not have even recognized him at all. Roy’s hair hung in front of his eyes, which had dark circles underneath them. His face was gaunt, and paler than Maes had ever seen it. His clothes, usually kept so pristine, were covered in dried— and alarmingly, some fresh —blood, and dirt, and torn in several different places.

Maes had never seen his best friend look this bad, not even during Ishval.

What would be the benefit of Envy showing Maes this version of Roy? To hurt him further, maybe? But then why all the confusing words? Speaking about a cell? Calling Maes Envy? It just didn’t add up, unless the homunculus’ plan was to confuse the hell out of him.

He narrowed his eyes and carried on the scrutiny of this different Roy’s appearance. Which is precisely when his eyes caught on the left leg.

Or lack thereof.

It was the one Roy has broken in his fight with Scar so long ago, the one that had been in a cast when Roy died. And now it was gone, cut off just above the knee. This person was leaning heavily on a pair of crutches to hold himself up, just like Roy had been when Maes last saw him. Maybe that was why he didn’t immediately register it as strange, but what would Envy do this for?

Suddenly, Maes felt like he couldn’t breathe. All the anger rushed out of him in one gasp of breath, and then he was staggering backwards, unable to comprehend the thought that had just entered his brain. Because it couldn’t be.

Roy was dead, had been dead for months. Almost a year.

And yet, for the first time since that fateful call, Maes dared to let himself hope.

He was shaking terribly, so much that whoever was standing in front of him was beginning to look a little wary.

“…Roy?” It was all Maes could force himself to get out, his voice quiet and half strangled by a sob that he refused to let rise to the surface.

Roy’s eyes widened, staring back at him. “Hughes? Is that... it can’t be you,” he said, denying it almost immediately with a shake of his head. “You can’t be real. I’ve been— I won’t fall for this again. You can’t trick me.”

“I won’t fall for this again.” Envy had said something about appearing to Roy as Maes himself, hadn’t he, though Maes had dismissed it as a taunt because Roy would certainly have attacked if he’d seen Envy transform into several different people at once. But maybe... if it hadn’t happened at once…

When Maes had asked if Envy was the one to kill Roy, he hadn’t gotten a straight answer. All that bragging, and the first thing Envy had said was… was…

“Congratulations, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes. You finally found out who shot your precious Flame Alchemist.”

Shot. Not killed.

“Does it make you feel better to know he didn’t die instantly? I shot him in the stomach, and boy, did he bleed for a while before the end .”

People could survive from gunshot wounds to the stomach. They did all the time.

And with what Maes knew about Edward saying he was a sacrifice, and Roy mentioning that just now… the pieces were all starting to fall into place.

Maes caught his best friend’s gaze. Roy looked as if he’d been to hell and back.

Maybe... maybe he really had been.

“ You’re not dying. That’s an order.”

“You’re an alchemist. You can do magic, or at least the closest thing to it. So… so do one last trick, for me. Come back?”

“I just wish you were here.”

Roy had never let him down before.

He opened his mouth to speak again, distrust clear on his face, but Maes cut him off before he could.

“Tell me something,” he said. “Quick, anything. Something only the real Roy would know. Tell me, if you’re him.”

Roy— please let it be Roy please pleaseplease —blinked. “Maes Hughes stole the last piece of quiche right out from under my nose on my first day at the academy,” he said slowly, still uneasy. “And I tried my best to beat him at everything we did from then on.”

The sob that Maes had been holding back escaped, and he nearly collapsed to his knees right then and there, but Roy still didn’t seem convinced.

“Now you,” he insisted, and Maes nodded.

“You left the bullet that Heathcliff shot at you in your Alchemist’s pocket watch.” Maes’ voice shook, and the tears blurring his vision were certainly not helping matters. He hadn’t seen Roy in far, far too long. “As... as a reminder. Edward has it, now.” He paused, thinking. “What did you get my daughter for her birthday?”

Roy was starting to edge forward now. “A giant teddy bear. I made Riza carry it.” One of the corners of his mouth twitched up; clearly he was thinking of the day in question. It wasn’t a smile, but it was close enough that Maes felt his own face breaking out into a grin, even if he was still crying. Roy’s own eyes were beginning to well up with tears, too.

“That’s right,” Maes whispered.

Roy swallowed. He had slowly made his way down the corridor— as Maes had taken several large stumbling steps forward himself —and now he stood just a few feet away. Maes could run over and tackle him in a hug right now, and god, did he want to, but he waited. He only allowed himself a few more steps closer. It was all too good to be true.

“What...” Roy’s voice broke, and he tried again. “What did I write in the letter to you that I taped to the back?”

Maes let out another sob, and with shaking fingers, he pulled the piece of paper out of his uniform’s left breast pocket. Right over his heart.

“Do you want me to read it word for word?” he asked, with a weak laugh. “Because I’ve kept this with me every day since I found it.”

Roy tilted his head to the side and eyed the letter disapprovingly, but Maes knew him well enough to see that he was holding back a grin of his own. “There’s blood on it,” he noted.

“Yes,” Maes agreed, looking down at the small spots of dried blood. From the fight with Lust, most likely. “Things have been... well, they’ve been rough, without you.”

Roy cast a pointed glance down at his missing leg. Maes would be furious about that later, after he had time to get used to the fact that he’s alive, he’s alive, my best friend is alive. “Things have been pretty rough on my end, too,” he said, enough of an edge to the seemingly light words that Maes’ heart broke for him all over again.

But that didn’t matter right now. Nothing mattered in the world to Maes right now, not even the impending apocalypse, apart from the fact that…

“You’re here.” Maes hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

Roy smiled back at him, and Christ, had Maes missed that lopsided grin that always got them both into trouble. “I’m here, Maes,” he echoed, voice impossibly soft. Steadying himself on his crutches, he held out an arm.

That was all the invitation Maes needed before closing the rest of the distance between them and bringing Roy into a crushing embrace.

Chapter Text

Roy Mustang finally let himself fall apart.

He practically collapsed into the arms of his best friend, and he could feel himself shaking. Every instinct he’d built up still screamed at him to run, that this wasn’t real, that it couldn’t be real.

Even if it all ended up a lie again, though, Roy just couldn’t bring himself to let go. Even if his eyes stung, he hadn’t felt this happy since... he couldn’t remember the last time. The past several months had been so bleak. Everything was still looking pretty bleak, if the explosions echoing down the halls earlier were any indication.

But that didn’t matter.

Standing here, in one of Maes Hughes’ signature suffocating hugs, Roy couldn’t help but bury his head in his best friend’s shoulder, his tears wetting the fabric there. Real or not, Roy finally felt safe.

He was the first one to break the silence, however extremely uncharacteristic for the two of them, because Maes seemed to content to just hold onto him forever.

Roy, however grudgingly, recognized that they probably needed to get on the same page. He patted Maes’ shoulder a few times, pulling back to offer his friend another small smile.

“You might need to go easy on the ribs there, Hughes,” Roy told him. “They’re definitely bruised.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Maes stepped back immediately, as if he’d been burned, and Roy— who had been letting the other man support most of his weight —nearly fell over.

Maes steadied him, looking panicked. Roy could hardly blame him. “I’m okay,” Roy assured him. He gestured at his leg again. “Just... still a little tough to balance.”

Maes’ expression darkened, and his jaw clenched. Roy winced. Wrong again. Definitely too soon to make light of the situation.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… for once, I don’t think I’m going to be saying no to your hugs for a while. I… I needed that.”

Maes’ eyes softened, and he nodded. He was still in tears. They both were, but it still shocked Roy to his core to see the other in such hysterics. Hughes was Roy’s rock, a dependable presence he could always count on to keep him grounded, and seeing him so distraught felt jarring, especially when Roy was on an emotional precipice himself.

Still, though, even with every mixed up emotion he had to be feeling, Maes kept his hands firmly on Roy’s shoulders and only pulled back enough so they could talk to each other— not a hug, anymore, but not quite not one, either. As if he feared Roy might disappear into thin air if he let go.

“I don’t know how you’re not against this,” Roy pointed out. “I must smell terrible.”

That finally got Maes to laugh, and Roy counted it as a win. “I couldn’t care less about what you smell like,” Maes said, and thank goodness, he was smiling again. “You’re alive.”

“It would appear that way, yes. Though I’m not quite sure I believe it myself.”

Maes’ face fell all too soon. “How?” he asked, after a beat of silence. “I mean... you were gone, you were dead, we all thought… and all this time you’ve been here?”

Roy took a deep breath, and nodded. “They need me for something. You know that the homunculi have called Ed a ‘sacrifice,’ right? Envy said the same about me, before they shot me. I think whatever they’re going to use us for, it’s going to be today. Which is why I had to get out,” he explained, and pressed on despite the way Maes’ face went pale. “I... they threatened all of your lives, on the outside, if I didn’t comply. It got to the point where I just… I stopped fighting. I stopped believing I had an out. After all, no one would be looking for me, right? They made sure of that.”

Maes shook his head. “I wish... god, I never considered the fact that you might be alive, not after I saw them wheel you away. If I’d known, Roy, you have to believe I would’ve torn this place to the ground, stone by stone if I had to.” His eyes were full of earnest anxiety. “I had no idea. If I did, I never would have left you behind.”

“I know,” Roy smiled at him sadly. “That’s why I sort of hoped you’d never find out. You’d be putting yourselves at risk. The things they’re capable of, Maes, I… I can’t even begin to tell you. Even when Scar got Marcoh out, I made him promise—”

“Scar?” Maes echoed, voice turning slightly dangerous. “He knew you were down there, and he didn’t say a word to any of us? All this time?”

Roy gave him a stern look. “Don’t do that.”

Maes glared right back. “My apologies if I’m not completely over the fact that he tried to kill you,” he said, and looked down again at Roy’s missing limb. “Did him breaking your leg lead to this?!”

Roy rolled his eyes. “This,” he gestured at his leg, “is the direct result of my first and only real escape attempt. It hadn’t healed entirely yet, and that’s probably why Envy chose it, but… it’s also why I convinced Scar not to take me with him.”

“Envy did that to you?” Maes demanded, and when Roy didn’t answer, he made a noise that could only be described as a growl. “I’ll kill them.”

Roy didn’t particularly like that idea, especially considering the fact that he would much prefer to keep himself and all his loved ones as far away from Envy as possible. Besides, if anyone was going to kill Envy, it would be him. “Well. You’ll have to get in line.”

Maes frowned. “Roy,I’m not letting Envy get anywhere near you ever again. Or Scar for that matter.”

Roy resisted the impulse to roll his eyes or smile. He was almost comforted by the normalcy of it all, of bickering with Hughes even in a life or death situation. He could always trust his best friend to disagree with him on his own safety.

“Scar offered several times over to help me escape, but I couldn’t walk Maes, much less go on the run. And yes, I made him promise not to tell anyone, because I didn’t want anything like this to happen to you, or Riza, or God forbid, Ed. That kid’s lost enough limbs already.” Roy paused. “Maybe he can more properly introduce me to Ms. Rockbell.”

“This is serious, Roy!” Maes insisted, not amused. As if he didn’t know that. “Do you have any idea how lost we all were without you?”

“I knew you’d have each other’s backs,” Roy said. “I didn’t want to drag you into danger trying to get me out.”

“We were in danger anyway! We still are! I’ve been looking for your killer since your goddamn funeral Roy! Do you know what that felt like? Going to your best friend’s funeral?!” Maes was practically shouting, now, and his voice cracked on the word. Funeral.

Roy had long since realized that the people he loved must have had a funeral for him, but hearing Maes’ voice so wracked with grief was another beast entirely.

No, he didn’t have any idea what it would have felt like. He didn’t want to.

“I felt like a part of me had died, too. I’m pretty sure I would’ve gone about things a hell of a lot less recklessly if I knew I still had to save you!”

A moment of weighted silence.

“I’m... sorry,” Roy mumbled, too stunned by this unfamiliar side of Maes to say anything else.

“Don’t apologize,” Maes said, the heat immediately gone from his voice. “It’s not your fault. I’m not angry at you, I could never be, I… it’s been so long. And I still can’t believe it. I’m just so glad you’re safe.”

“I missed you,” Roy admitted, eyes wet. “I missed you a lot, Maes.”

Maes broke down again, tears rushing down his cheeks as he pulled Roy in for another hug. “I missed you, too,” he sobbed. “Please don’t ever do that again. You scared the hell out of me.”

“As if you could get rid of me that easily,” Roy said, earning a scoff from Maes. “Should I be insulted?”

“I saw your body,” Maes said, and his voice broke again. “And now I know you weren’t dead, but there was so much blood, and… I’ve been putting flowers on your grave every week, Roy. Every. Week. We all thought you were gone, and the fact that you’re not... it feels too good to be true.”

That feeling, at least, Roy could relate to. “I’m here,” he said again, and he didn’t know which of them he was trying to convince more.

“You’ve been stuck here for months,” Maes said, voice breaking, “and none of us had any idea.”

“But you know now,” Roy said. He hadn’t seen a truly friendly face in ages, and he couldn’t help but be comforted by it, despite everything going on. “I’m alive, Hughes. I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Maes snapped immediately. His voice was still wrecked and far, far too quiet. “Don’t do that. You’re not fine. You nearly died. You were hurt and you were bleeding and you were alone. I wasn’t there. I didn’t even answer the damned phone.”

Roy frowned. That was what this was about? Had… had Maes been feeling guilty all this time? “Bullshit,” he said simply, and was pleased when it seemed to startle Maes out of his thoughts. “I wouldn’t have wanted you there.”

At Maes’ hurt look, he quickly continued.

“Would you have wanted to be there to see me get shot?” Roy asked, incredulous.

“That doesn’t matter, I should’ve been there. You called, and I could’ve helped—”

“Bullshit,” Roy said again. “Yes, I called you. But if you’d somehow gotten there in time, or even picked up and listened to what I found out, they probably would’ve killed you. The only reason they kept me alive is because I’m an alchemist, Maes, and they need me for something. If you’d answered the phone, you probably just would’ve had to listen to me get shot.”

Maes flinched, and Roy offered him a grim smile before pressing on.

“I don’t think either of us would want that,” he said. “I’m glad you didn’t answer the phone, Maes. There’s no reason for you to feel responsible for what you couldn’t have changed. And like I said… well, I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Maes stared at him for several seconds, saying nothing and trembling slightly. His eyes were red-rimmed behind his glasses, and the tears hadn’t stopped. He wrapped his arms around Roy again, the embrace lighter this time but no less desperate. “And you can’t begin to know how glad I am of that,” he whispered, finally. “But... I still wish I could have helped you sooner.”

Roy considered this. “You did help me, actually.”

A pause. Maes tensed, slightly, but said nothing.

“I couldn’t die,” Roy said at length, letting himself relax in the familiar yet unfamiliar hold.When was the last time he had felt like this? The last time he had spoken with someone who didn’t want to hurt him? “I don’t know if you remember this,” he continued, somewhat hesitantly, “but after the fight I had with Scar, you ordered me not to die. For some reason, that really… it stuck with me. I just kept thinking, I can’t die today, because Maes Hughes told me not to. It’s stupid—”

“If it’s got any part in why you’re standing here today, then it’s not stupid at all,” Maes said immediately. “God, I’m so glad I found you. Roy.”

So am I, Roy thought, but he didn’t trust himself to speak. So, he just held on tighter.

Maes Hughes often thought that he lived a life of opposite extremes, of good and bad in equal measure to an almost absurd degree. Roy Mustang, the bane of his existence and his best friend in the entire world, would have called it equivalent exchange.

Maes just called it inconsistency. He never quite understood how he could be so lucky and yet so unlucky all at once. How he’d lived an extraordinary number of best and worst days of his life.

This, though. This had to be one of the strangest things he’d ever faced, and yet Maes would never, ever complain about it as long as he lived. As long as it stayed true.

Roy. Alive.

Maes was simultaneously overjoyed and overwhelmed by a new wave of grief.

He’s here he’s alive my best friend is alive I’m never letting him out of my sight again and he’s been alive all this time he’s been suffering I’ve failed him oh god he should hate me waging a battle in his head.

“I saw your body,” he’d said. Ever since that day, ever since he failed to pick up the phone, Maes had seen the image of his best friend’s blood-covered corpse being rolled away from him nearly every time he closed his eyes. Even now, Maes knew he’d never stop replaying that moment in his brain.

Because it wasn’t a corpse at all.

Back then, Roy was unconscious and bleeding but alive and right in front of him. And instead of rushing to his best friend’s side like he wanted to, like he should have done, instead of checking Roy’s pulse for himself like he had so many times before, he’d given in and grieved and believed the lie the homunculi fed to him.

Maes had failed Roy twice that day, and he’d had no idea until now.

Roy had never actually been dead. Maes Hughes had held a funeral for one of the people he loved most in the world, for a man who still drew breath, for an empty coffin. They’d all mourned and they’d all moved on and all the while Roy continued to suffer with none of them the wiser.

Maybe, one day, he could have begun to forgive himself for not picking up that phone. But looking at Roy, now, he knew he would never forgive himself for this.

Maes Hughes had had a lot of worst days of his life, and the vast majority of them took place after losing Roy.

He’d also had a great many best days of his life. The day he met Gracia, their wedding, and the birth of Elicia, to name a few.

He figured he would have to add this one to the latter list, not quite realizing that the Promised Day would once again teach him a lesson in balance. A day that would bring about both joy and anguish in staggering amounts, to mimic what he felt in this one moment of it.

At present, though, Maes Hughes just did what he was often known to do— he put his own feelings to the back of his mind so that they could be more closely examined later, when time allowed, and promptly shifted his focus to worrying about everyone else.

Namely.

“Riza,” he breathed, almost directly in Roy’s ear. He still hadn’t let go. “We have to find her right away, we have to tell her. Christ, she’ll kill me for not having told her already! What will she—?”

Roy’s head snapped up, and for a moment Maes thought he too would be concerned at the idea of the Lieutenant’s wrath, but of course not. Because his best friend was an idiot.

Instead, a smile tugged at one side of Roy’s mouth— and how Maes had missed that smile —his eyes bright. “Riza is here?”

Riza Hawkeye circled around her opponent slowly, and took a deep breath in. No fight in her entire life had mattered as much as this one, right here, right now. She had to do this carefully.

She knew Maes would most likely be coming to serve as back-up once he heard the gunshots, but a small, selfish part of her wanted the satisfaction of putting Envy down all on her own.

And she knew she could, too.

Riza Hawkeye had never enjoyed taking a life, despite what Kimblee had said to her in Ishval. Despite the fact that she was very, very good at it. But she would enjoy this.

On some level, she had convinced herself that the need to kill Envy stemmed from a desire for justice, for retribution. In many ways, it did. But her fury had reached a fever pitch, now, after hearing them dare to gloat. She didn’t just want them dead. She wanted them to suffer.

She would kill them, and she would do it slowly, and she would enjoy every moment.

She could justify it, too, because she couldn’t rush to land a killing blow— in part because she had to ensure Envy’s healing slowed down first, but mostly? She refused to take this away from Maes. They’d sworn to get their revenge together, made a promise in front of Roy’s grave, and Riza meant to keep her word.

Besides, she didn’t mind taking her time.

When she ran out of ammo with the gun in her hand, she didn’t hesitate to unholster the two others she kept on her belt. Even if Envy still refused to shed her Colonel’s face.

Something in her still felt sick pulling the trigger, when they looked like that, but Riza just reminded herself that this was not her Roy. This was the monster that had killed him, that had used her likeness to do it.

She fired. Again, and again, and again.

The bullet wounds still healed as fast as Riza could make them, but the barrage did serve to push them back several steps.

“Ow, that hurts,” Envy told her, fairly deadpan, though Riza knew from their gritted teeth that they spoke the truth. “It won’t be nearly enough to kill me, though.”

Riza Hawkeye was not one to back down from a challenge when she heard it. So, she took out her shotgun.

Better, she thought, as she shot the homunculus full of lead, but still not doing enough damage.

Riza had explosives on her, too, of course she did, but she didn’t dare use them with this much distance between Envy and herself. And she didn’t particularly like the idea of letting them get closer.

In a blink, however, the homunculus proved that it didn’t matter.

One of Envy’s arms transformed in the space of a second, and in the next a long green vine was lashing out at her. Riza just barely managed to dodge, and it glanced off of her left shoulder instead of going through her throat. Both her coat and the skin beneath it tore, and the fabric right beside her neck grew red with blood.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Lieutenant,” Envy said, their voice smug and amused. Riza stumbled a few steps backwards in an attempt to get her wits about her once more. “I must say, I’m disappointed.”

“I’m sorry that I’ve failed to live up to your expectations,” Riza said, only the slightest bit out of breath. She’d taken far worse injuries in stride when fighting before. “But suffice it to say I’m underwhelmed with you as well, Envy.”

And it was true. She’d expected more fight from the person who’d killed her Colonel.

“What, do you feel the same as Hughes?” Envy asked, with a laugh. “Are you embarrassed that I managed to rid the world of Roy Mustang? That was a disappointing fight, too, I must say. Boring. I thought killing the Hero of Ishval would be more fun.”

As much as Envy had boasted about the genius of their decision earlier, they still hadn’t bested Roy in any meaningful way. They hadn’t won in a fair fight. They had snuck up on Roy and surprised him when he was already injured, when his back was turned.

As someone who had often aimed a gun at the back of someone’s skull, Riza knew— there was no dignity in it.

“You should be embarrassed,” she told them. “Roy Mustang would have destroyed you in a fight under any other circumstances. The only reason you were able to kill him that day is because you got lucky, and because you used me to do it.” She drew in a deep breath. “I will not forgive you for that.”

Evny bared their teeth. “All it took to kill him was a single bullet. I gave him every chance to fight back, but he couldn’t do it. And for what? A bit of sentiment? You humans are pathetic.”

For some reason, Riza felt herself smiling. “If we’re so pathetic, then why did you run away?”

The homunculus lashed out again, but this time she shot at the offending limb rather than attempting to dodge. Envy jerked back with a pained noise that quickly transformed into a snarl.

“I have better things to do than engage in a pointless battle,” they spat. “You think I’m afraid of you? For all your blustering, you know you don’t have anything as powerful as Flame Alchemy up your sleeve. You’ll die by my hand, exactly as he did.”

Envy took a step closer to her, and Riza had an idea. A very, very bad idea. In fact, it was the sort of thing Roy would have come up with.

She would have to do this slowly for it to work. Tentatively, she took a step back, and shook her head. “You’re wrong.”

As she expected, Envy pressed their perceived advantage. “You’re wrong about your precious Colonel. Roy Mustang was weak, and so are you,” they said, and then smirked. “And I can prove it.”

Unsubtle as Envy was, Riza had a feeling she knew what was coming. But that didn’t make it any easier to look on as their expression turned suddenly sad.

When they spoke again, it was with Roy’s voice.

“Riza, please.”

She didn’t have to fake the sorrow on her face. Hearing the voice she’d longed to hear for ages now, hearing him sound so broken, hearing him say her name… she almost couldn’t stand it.

Almost. But she’d lied, before. Maybe if Envy called her ‘Lieutenant,’ it would actually have made her hesitate. As things stood, Riza pretended to be more thrown off than she was.After all, Roy Mustang’s face would always remain familiar to her. She saw him nearly every night, in both dream and nightmare.

She had refused to let it break her when he died, and she refused to break now. She forced herself to stay frozen as the homunculus continued to approach. If Envy just got close enough…

She allowed her hands to shake, her eyes to well up. Riza Hawkeye seldom let her composure slip, even after losing the love of her life. She kept her grief, her tears, her screams of why for the late nights she now spent alone.

But when faced with Roy’s killer, she found it all too easy to let go.

Riza sobbed as she fired shot after shot at Envy, as each gaping wound healed just seconds after she created it. She released everything she’d endeavored to bottle up these past few months, because Envy needed to believe that she had given up. And she knew no better way to convince them of that than with the truth. Riza had only contemplated giving up herself a million times.

Riza had to be convincing, and so the hurt had to be real. Envy spent enough time watching humans that they would know the difference.

When she ran out of bullets with the shotgun, she kept pulling the trigger. Again and again and again, until eventually she let it clatter to the ground. Riza let herself fall, too; collapsing to her knees on the cold floor.

Envy smiled with all of their teeth. “Have you realized how useless your weapons are against me? Has the Hawk’s Eye given up?” They still wore Roy’s face as they moved closer.

Riza narrowly avoided reacting. Never, she wanted to spit in Envy’s face. Instead, she lowered her head as if ashamed. When she did speak, her voice was a whisper instead of a shout. “I don’t have anything left to lose.”

Not remotely true. Riza had people she hadn’t lost yet, things she had to fight for and protect. But she knew Envy believed her pathetic, and so she knew she could fool them.

“So pitiful,” the homunculus said with another laugh. “One of the greatest sharpshooters in this country reduced to nothing without her superior officer to tell her what to do.”

Envy’s words too closely resembled emotions she’d felt herself, but Riza hadn’t let herself think that way for some time.

The voices in her head taunted without reprieve.Will you ever amount to anything, without him? Will you be enough to do what he could not? And Riza answered yes, because I have to be. If all the time and torture she endured after losing Roy had shown her anything, she knew Envy was wrong.

Nothing, they called her, echoing her own subconscious, and she wanted to refute them, too. A nothing who captured Gluttony, she screamed at the homunculus inside her own head. A nothing who killed Lust. A nothing who faced Pride without flinching. To think that Envy thought they stood a chance against her, when they had wounded her more deeply than any of their kind.

She would see them burn.

But first, they had to take just a step closer. Once again, Riza weaponized the truth in order to aid in her deception.

“I miss him,” she admitted to the air. The words always hurt on their way out, no matter how many times she said them. No matter how much time had passed. She would always, always miss him.

Riza kept her eyes turned toward the ground and her hand in her pocket.

“I give up.”

When Envy spoke again, their voice came from directly above her. “How would you like to be reunited?” they asked, and she could still hear laughter in their voice. “How would you like to be buried together?” Closer, now.

In the space of a second, Riza rose to her feet. Envy, mouth open in shock, reeled backwards, but they weren’t fast enough.

“I lied.”

She shoved a grenade right down the homunculus’ throat, and pulled the pin through their teeth.

“I’ll bury you, instead.”

Riza managed to launch herself backwards in time to catch sight of the furious expression on Envy’s face before the force of the blast threw her into the wall behind her, and her head cracked against the stone.

Edward could hear gunshots and explosions echoing down the hallway behind him, and he kept walking, kept his back turned to the noises of battle.

Listening to it, his first thought was they’re going to rip Envy apart, followed quickly by good.

Edward didn’t regret his decision to remove himself from the fight, but he knew he would regret it if he stopped Hawkeye and Hughes, and so he kept walking down the corridor, resolute. If he turned around, he didn’t trust himself to not go back.

He didn’t want to lose anyone else to that monster. Which was the exact reason why Envy had to die, but it also made turning his back on the fight terrifying.

Ed trusted them, though. He knew they would have each other’s backs.

Behind him, Scar’s footsteps halted, and Ed squeezed his eyes shut. He’d sort of been wondering when that would happen.

“Fullmetal Alchemist,” he began, something strange in his voice. This, finally, got Ed to turn in order to meet the other’s eyes. “May I speak with you for a moment?”

Ed’s fists clenched at his sides, entirely against his will. “Is this about Envy?”

Scar nodded, then seemed to hesitate before speaking.

“I won’t stop them from killing that monster,” Ed told Scar, impatient. “Envy deserves it.”

Scar frowned. “I once lost myself this way. I was consumed by fury, by the flames of revenge and sorrow. If you allow your loved ones to travel down this path, they will burn, too. You are enabling it.”

“Maybe,” Ed allowed. “Maybe if I tried to stop them, they’d listen to me. Maybe they wouldn’t. Maybe they’ll stop each other from going too far, and maybe they’ll tear Envy apart.” He shrugged.

“This is no laughing matter.”

Ed’s eyes narrowed. “Who’s laughing?”

Scar, to his credit, didn’t waver under the glare. “You do not understand,” he said, simply. “Nothing good will come from this.”

See, that was where Ed had to disagree.

“Bullshit,” he snapped. “Even if you’re arguing that Hughes and Hawkeye are sacrificing their humanity for this, I can promise you they wouldn’t care. Even if you’re arguing that Envy doesn’t deserve to die, I can promise you that you’re wrong. Besides, after everything they’ve done, I would think that you’d want them dead, too!”

Scar opened his mouth to speak, but Ed wasn’t finished.

“But even if you still all believe that, it doesn’t matter. None of it changes the fact that it’s what Colonel Mustang would want. So, I’m going to let Envy die, because they deserve to.” he said. Simple as that. “You and Marcoh were the ones who told me that they killed Roy. If you wanted a different answer, then you never should have let me find out.”

Ed turned his back on Scar, and kept walking.

“Roy Mustang is alive.”

It would be so easy to just say the words out loud, to voice to the secret Scar had been keeping. He knew why he couldn’t, and knew that Marcoh was right, and yet. Every second that passed without sharing what he knew felt like a deceit.

In that moment, though, he really, truly thought about it, and not for the first time.

But Scar also knew exactly what would happen if he told this child the truth. What Edward Elric would do. Scar would watch his eyes light up with joy and then rage, watch him race back into danger to tell the Lieutenant and Colonel what he knew, watch him throw all of their plans away in order to look for the Flame Alchemist.

Scar knew all of this, and he had made promises. He had sworn to keep this secret, and he had sworn to keep Edward Elric from harm, and so he once again resolved to keep his mouth shut.

When Riza regained her senses after the initial shock of the explosion, Envy was nowhere to be found. But she knew one grenade couldn’t have been enough to kill them.

Apparently it hadn’t even stalled them for long— the homunculus must have already reformed, because the only evidence that remained of the explosion was the soot on her clothes and lingering heat in the air.

So they ran, then.

“Coward,” Riza spat, and the word tasted of ash in her mouth.

It didn’t matter, though. Her head where it had hit the wall, the shoulder Envy had cut open— Riza barely felt either injury. She’d had much worse, and nothing would stop her now.

Wherever Envy tried to hide, wherever they searched for an escape, she would follow. She would see them rot.

Riza would rain hellfire down upon them, and even then they would only suffer a fraction of the pain they had caused her.

They would still suffer, though, and that was enough. It had to be.

“We have to be careful,” Maes said, and Roy continued walking as if he hadn’t spoken. A return to normalcy, in many ways.

When Maes seemed to realize that Roy had no intention of heeding or even responding to this warning, he reached out and grabbed his arm.

“I’m serious,” he insisted. “I know you want to find Hawkeye, but you can’t forget that Envy is around here somewhere, too. We have to keep our guard up.”

“I know that,” Roy told him, “but we’ll just burn that bridge when we get to it.”

Maes frowned. “As much as I would love to see that monster reduced to ashes, I still don’t particularly like the idea of letting you anywhere near Envy,” he said. “They… they killed you.”

Roy didn’t particularly like the idea of going anywhere near Envy, either, but he also wasn’t about to stand aside and let his friends fight his battles for him. Besides. “They didn’t kill me, Hughes.”

“They hurt you, though,” Maes said, and Roy couldn’t exactly refute that. Still.

“Nothing is going to happen to me,” he promised instead. “I’ve got you with me, now.”

Maes’ face twisted with something close to anger. “And what difference will that make?!” he demanded, and Roy winced, but he knew the ire wasn’t directed at him. “I couldn’t stop anything bad from happening to you before, and you expect me to let you just rush into danger again, like you always do?”

I’m not asking for your permission, Roy thought, equally upset, but he held his tongue.

When Maes continued his words were much quieter. “I... I don’t want you to get hurt again,” he whispered, finally, and Roy softened immediately. He never could stay mad at Maes for long. “I don’t... I can’t lose you again, Roy, I just got you back.”

“I just got you back, too,” Roy reminded him. “Trust me, I won’t be doing anything to put that at risk. And that includes you hunting Envy down without me. We’ll do this together, or we won’t do it at at all.”

Maes hesitated, and Roy clapped a hand on his shoulder. Immediately, Maes brought one of his own hands up to rest on top of it.

“You won’t lose me,” Roy swore, “but I won’t lose you either.”

At that moment, as if the very universe seemed determined to prove him wrong, a bullet struck the wall right beside Roy’s head.

He flinched, violently, and Maes shoved him backward, his expression one of blind panic, before Roy could get a glimpse of his attacker.

It turned out, however, that he didn’t need to see her, because the moment she spoke he knew.

“Step away from him, Colonel Hughes,” Riza Hawkeye said, and Roy was shocked to hear that her voice wavered. Even so, he’d recognize it anywhere. “Envy may look like him right now, but that’s not our Roy.”

Our Roy. His brain short-circuited. When was the last time Riza had used his first name?

Maes, in lieu of listening, positioned himself more fully in front of Roy. “Hawkeye, I… I know it’s hard to believe, but I promise, it’s really him.”

“He’s dead,” Riza snapped. “You know that. We both know that, and I will not allow the thing that killed him to keep wearing his face.”

Roy took half a step to the side, just enough to be able to see her clearly again.

Sure enough, the moment he was within her line of sight she leveled the gun so it was pointing directly at the space between his eyes. But Roy barely noticed it, because he was too busy drinking in the sight of her.

She had blood and soot on her coat. Her hair was down, and a complete mess. She held the gun in trembling hands.

He couldn’t help but remember, then, that Envy had looked like her when they shot him. But he could still tell without a doubt that this was his Lieutenant. While Envy had smiled cruelly, a war of emotions took place on her face. While Envy hadn’t hesitated, Riza’s hands were shaking.

Her hands never shook. She was a sniper, after all.

And Roy wasn’t scared of her, because he knew that if she really wanted to kill him then she would’ve done it already. She never missed.

Maes didn’t seem to share that same confidence. He held his hands up in a placating gesture, stepping to the side and yet again hiding Riza from view. Roy almost moved away from his best friend’s protection again, if only just to keep looking at her.

“I know it’s crazy,” Maes was saying, though Roy heard him as if from far away. “I didn’t believe it at first either, but it’s true. I swear. I don’t know quite how yet, but he’s... he’s alive. He’s right here.”

Riza shuddered, clearly doing her best to steady herself. “Don’t,” she whispered, her voice a soft, broken thing, and it made Roy ache inside. He’d never heard her sound like that before.

Maes placed a hand on Roy’s shoulder before carefully stepping out of the way. He looked ready to jump back into the line of fire at any moment, though, which Roy wasn’t sure how to feel about.

“Go ahead,” Maes said, his own voice just as soft. “Like you did with me. Tell her something only the real you would know.”

It should have been easy to think of something. The two of them had countless codes that they’d come up with over the years. She knew every secret he’d ever had, but in that moment Roy’s mind went completely blank, except for one thought. And thatwas what came out of his mouth.

“I love you.”

Riza clicked the safety off.

Maes looked about ready to shoot Roy himself, and somehow over the goddamn moon all at the same time.

“Oh my god, Roy, you idiot,” he whispered furiously. “Anyone could guess that. I’ve only been insisting you admit it for years, and you pick NOW?!”

“I don’t care,” Roy said, not looking at Maes. He refused to tear his eyes away from her. “I thought I’d never see her again, so yes, I’m saying this now, in case I lose my chance to say it later.”

Nothing was more important than this, than right now, than making sure he got to tell her. He didn’t care if she shot him. But seeing as Maes clearly did, he continued.

“Your father taught me alchemy. I burned off the tattoo of his research on your back. You once told me that you’d follow me into hell if I asked you to, and I hope every day that your feelings haven’t changed. I love you, I love you, I love—“

And then she was kissing him.

Maes muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “about time,” and Roy resolutely ignored him.

Because he was kissing Riza, and she was kissing him, and her lips were soft, and she smelled like flowers and smoke, and suddenly nothing else mattered.

The entire world seemed to disappear around him as he pulled her even closer, desperate for more of her touch. Determined to not let go, in case none of this was real. He’d wanted this for so long, wanted her for so long, and it all still felt too good to be true.

Because Roy just wasn’t this lucky. His best friend and the love of his life. He didn’t get to have them both back. He shouldn’t let himself believe it.

But it was impossible not to, because already this was so much more than Roy imagined he’d live to get, after everything he’d lost.

All too soon, Riza pulled away, and Roy found his lips chasing hers and capturing them one last time before she shifted to hold him at arm’s length rather than in an embrace. Her eyes were wide, her face flushed, and she was smiling that small, soft smile that made him absolutely melt every time.

God, he never wanted to be away from her again. Now that he knew what it was like to hold her this way, why would he ever do anything else?

Judging by Maes’ expression— he had the nerve to look mildly irritated, the absolute hypocrite —Roy would have to wait until the world was no longer ending. A shame, really, because Roy found it very difficult to care about the end of the world under the current circumstances.

Maes opened his mouth to no doubt tell them that this really wasn’t the time, but Riza spoke before he could.

“I love you, too,” she said, breathless, and Roy’s heart just... soared. He brought a hand up to her cheek, his fingers in her hair. He leaned in again, but she pulled back and frowned, not unkindly. “I could’ve killed you.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” he said. “But evidently you’d have to try a bit harder than that. A gunshot didn’t quite work the first time.”

“I can see that.” Riza pursed her lips then, and Roy could tell she wanted to ask.

“I’ll tell you everything,” he promised, and he meant it, “but we don’t have time right now. The long and short of it is that homunculi faked my death because they need me alive for something, presumably something that’s happening today.” He paused. “I take it you’ve both learned about the transmutation circle? The one that spans the entire country?”

Maes’ eyes went wide. “That’s what you found out? That’s why they ki— captured you?”

Roy thought it best to ignore the slip-up. “Yes, they weren’t exactly keen to let me pass that information along.”

“But you tried to,” Maes said, his expression suddenly unreadable. “You tried to tell me.”

Roy didn’t know how to respond to that, but Riza came to his rescue. “We have a plan,” she told him, and Roy admired how quickly she could return to business. He was still struggling to think about anything other than the feel of her lips on his own. “But do you have any idea what they plan to use you for?”

Ah. Well, that was one way to get his head out of the clouds. “They’ve called me a ‘sacrifice,’” he said, and continued at the expressions on their faces. “I don’t much like the sound of it, either. I know they’ve also used that word with Ed, and it can’t mean anything good.”

Roy had long since figured it had to do with the massive transmutation circle, if they were looking for alchemists, and that couldn’t be good, either.

“Where is Fullmetal?” he asked. With this much trouble on the horizon, Roy knew the kid would be right at the center of it, and with several homunculi on the loose he needed to make sure Edward would be safe. And if Roy also just wanted to see him, then no one had to know about that.

Maes and Riza exchanged a glance with each other that made Roy instantly wary, and also a little incredulous. Since when could these two communicate without actually speaking?

He couldn’t decide whether it unsettled or amused him.

“Well?”

“We were just with him,” Maes said quickly. “He’s okay, but he didn’t follow Envy like we did.”

I would hope not, Roy thought. He didn’t want Envy within a thousand feet of Edward.

Briefly, he wondered if that made him a hypocrite. But he didn’t have long to deliberate on it, because his Lieutenant and best friend still wore uneasy expressions.

“He’s… with Scar,” Riza told him, finally, with an air of someone telling terrible news.

Roy, however, immediately let his shoulders sag with relief. “Oh, good,” he breathed, before he thought better of it. Maes and Riza both stared at him. Roy shrugged. “Scar won’t let anything bad happen to him.”

Riza frowned. “He destroyed Edward’s automail,” she said. “He nearly killed you.”

Before Roy could argue with this, Maes decided to speak up.

“He knew,” he said, his voice deceptively cheerful in the way it sometimes sounded when Maes was well and truly pissed about something. “Scar knew that Roy was alive. He found out when he helped Doctor Marcoh escape. They both knew and neither of them said anything.”

Riza’s face went instantly stormy. “They what?”

“That was my decision,” Roy insisted, yet again. “I didn’t want any of you to know.”

A heavy beat of silence passed between the three of them, until it seemed Riza couldn’t contain her fury any longer.

“How could you keep that from us?” she demanded, nearly yelling. “I would have come for you. I would have traveled to the ends of the Earth to bring you back. Or did you not believe me when I told you I would follow you into hell?”

“I believed you,” he said, with a sad smile. “That’s why you couldn’t find out.”

This didn’t seem to make either of them any less angry, and he knew that the more they found out the worse it would get. Namely, when it came to Envy.

Envy. Though he wouldn’t be proud of it later, Roy saw a chance to redirect their righteous fury and took it.

“I would have left with Scar,” Roy told them, and decided that for the moment, they didn’t need to know about the deal he’d struck with Bradley. “But I couldn’t exactly run after Envy did… this.” He gestured at his leg, and Riza seemed to truly register it and his crutches for the first time.

She stared for a moment, uncomprehending, and then she met his gaze again. Her own eyes blazed with fury.

She was, put simply, terrifying, and Hughes was too— his expression so dark it seemed to be cast in shadow. “We’ve killed one of their kind before,” he said. “It’ll be my pleasure to do it again.”

Roy rolled his eyes, ignoring the pride and fondness that threatened to burst from his chest. Or worse, from his words. He’d already been irredeemably soft, but now that his mind was recovering from the shock of the reunion, he was getting back into the game. There would be time for sentimentalities later. Right now, they had to save the country, and quite possibly the world.

Right after he got his revenge.

Finally.

“I’m afraid both of you will have to wait your turn,” Roy said, and they seemed startled by the change in his voice. “I’ve got my own bone to pick with Envy.” Now that he had his people by his side again, now that he stood a chance, he wouldn’t continue to run. He would fight.

Maes looked as though he might protest again for a moment, but before he could Riza reached into her jacket and pulled out… a pair of his gloves. More than one, in fact. Roy wondered if she hadn’t just emptied the whole case into her pockets.

“I think I may have something to help you with that.”

“You…” Roy trailed off, unsure how he had meant to end that sentence when he started it.

Riza nodded, seeming to understand all the same. “I kept them,” she said, and her face went slightly red, which was so abruptly uncharacteristic and endearing that Roy felt as if his heart might give out. “I... it was habit, at first, after spending so long with extras for you always on hand, but... even once I realized what I was doing, I didn’t stop. I didn’t want to.” She paused. “Hughes carried your letter, and I carried these.”

Roy blinked. Now to get tears out of his eyes. “For all this time.”

Riza shrugged, uncertain. “Every day.”

“Riza.”

They just looked at each other for a moment, and Roy was already regretting his recently made decision to focus.

Maes still thought that the task at hand was important, apparently, and so he cleared his throat loudly to interrupt their silent conversation. “I believe, if you’re done professing your undying love for each other, we have a homunculus to kill?”

Undying.

What a perfect word.

Roy looked at Hughes, then at his Lieutenant, and then back at the gloves. Then, he grinned, and put a pair on.

The gloves felt a bit like coming home, though not quite as much as the two of them did.

Still. Roy Mustang hadn’t seen a real fight in nearly a year, and he was practically starving for it. Now that he was no longer alone, he could finally have one, with two of the people he trusted most at his side.

God, he’d missed this. He’d missed them.

“Hughes, you’re absolutely right.”

Envy very rarely felt afraid, because very rarely had they encountered anything that posed a legitimate threat.

Never in a million years would they have considered either Colonel Hughes or Lieutenant Hawkeye dangerous, and yet now they flew through the labyrinthine halls, their skin still burning with the residual feel of an explosion.

Envy never learned to fear death. To agonize over an inevitable end the way mortals did. Death was for humans, and therefore pitiful.

And yet these very humans had managed to kill one of Envy’s own kind. Lust had died, and she had died screaming. She had started life as a human, true, and Envy had always been much more powerful, but no amount of power would ever make them prepared to face pain.

No matter how quickly Envy could heal, it didn’t change the fact that the injuries inflicted upon them still hurt.

The moment they reformed after the explosion, Envy was consumed by the animalistic, pathetic need to just get away. They tore through the endless twisting corridors, determined to escape.

A snap echoed through the air, and suddenly Envy’s legs were in agony. They collapsed to the ground, writhing as they were consumed in an instant by searing pain and blistering heat.

Envy knew immediately what it must mean, but they didn’t quite believe it even when they saw the fire with their own eyes.

Roy Mustang, finally fighting back? Despite everything, Envy had the sudden impulse to laugh.

When they turned to face their attacker, Envy met the eyes of the Flame Alchemist. Colonel Mustang, wearing his gloves once more, and flanked on either side by Colonel Hughes and his Lieutenant. Each face the very picture of fury.

Envy’s lips twisted into a smile. They knew they’d reached the end of the road, here, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t have a bit of fun in their last few moments.

“Ah,” they began, and looked Colonel Hughes directly in the face. “I see you’ve found my favorite pet!”

Before Envy even finished speaking, Roy held an arm out to the side. Maes collided with it just a moment later, snarling at the word ‘pet.’

“How dare you?” he demanded, though he didn’t continue to try and lunge forward. Which Roy was grateful for, since he didn’t have the best balance these days. Besides, Roy appreciated the gesture, but he honestly wasn’t that insulted. Nothing he hadn’t heard before.

He would’ve tried to block Riza, too, but she was on his left, and he doubted he’d fare very well in a fight against Envy without crutches. Thankfully, his Lieutenant still seemed calm and collected.

The sound of a gunshot echoed off of the walls as Riza shot Envy directly between the eyes.

Right, Roy thought, and chanced a look at her expression. Not calm or collected, either. But who could blame her, really?

Envy reeled backwards, but recovered even quicker from the bullet. “I would have thought you’d be happy that your precious Flame Alchemist is alive,” Envy said, with a wide grin. “In fact, I think I deserve a thank you.”

“The only thing you deserve is death,” Maes spat, without hesitation. “And a slow and painful one at that.”

Christ. Roy had seen his best friend angry on precious few occasions, and even still he’d never witnessed anything like this from Hughes before. He chanced a look at Riza as well, but her expression remained mostly impassive. A slight twitch in the muscle of her jaw was the only indication of her fury.

“I must admit, burning to death doesn’t sound very pleasant to me,” Envy said, and tilted their head at Roy. “Perhaps I should have gotten rid of an arm instead. Or both.”

This time, when Maes stormed forward, Roy didn’t even try to stop him. He didn’t lunge for Envy, though, just stood in between the homunculus and Roy. Riza pressed closer to his side, too.

Roy knew Maes well enough to know that he yelled a lot— he was very loud, that way. Sometimes it was to scold Roy for reckless decisions and sometimes it was about how much he loved his family, but neither of those were out of the ordinary. But his voice, when he spoke, was soft.

“You won’t touch him.”

Maes Hughes’ fury was a cold, quiet sort. And though Roy had encountered it before, he’d never heard him sound quite so enraged.

So Roy, quite frankly, had no idea what was about to happen.

“So protective!” Envy laughed. “I have to wonder, where were you when I cornered him in that phone booth?”

Maes made a wounded noise in the back of his throat, and Roy snapped his fingers on reflex. Flames licked out of the homunculus’ mouth as they screamed. Roy had set fire to their tongue. “You would do well to shut your mouth, Envy.”

“Aw, did I strike a nerve?” they asked, panting. They were still speaking to Hughes. “Would you like to see what you missed? What it looked like?”

Roy scowled. “What are you—”

Envy interrupted him with the sound of a gunshot, somehow echoing from their own mouth, which had Roy taking a step backwards. A stab of phantom pain shot through his abdomen that was so visceral, he actually looked down to make sure he wasn’t bleeding. Then he looked at Hughes and his Lieutenant, but they were both uninjured as well.

When he turned his attention back towards Envy, all became clear.

They had transformed to look like him, and they were staring down at a wound in their stomach as they pressed gloved hands to the injury in an effort to cease the gushing blood. Their skin was pale, their breaths coming short and fast, and they backed up into the wall before sliding slowly to the floor, leaving a trail of red behind them.

Looking at it, Roy remembered what it had felt like to die. Or rather, what it had felt like to almost die. Not quite, but since the pain wasn’t part of the death itself, Roy figured it didn’t really matter. He did feel as if a part of him had died that day.

But he couldn’t think about that now. He was alive, and he felt more alive today than he had in months. He had Maes and Riza back.

Maes, whose eyes were filling up with tears, and Riza whose own gun shook in her hands.

“I’m right here,” Roy tried to assure them. “It’s not real.”

“Yes it is,” Maes whispered, sounding absolutely broken. “This is what happened to you, isn’t it? That’s... that’s what it looked like?” His eyes hadn’t left where Envy was slumped on the ground, their eyes now vacant and empty.

Roy steeled himself. Unnerving as it was to see himself as a corpse, he knew it was far worse for his friends to witness. But he refused to let this charade continue.

He was… angry. Angry about everything Envy had put him through, furious that they’d taken him away from the people he cared about, incensed over the grief they’d put his loved ones through. Roy was so, so angry, and he had hated Envy for so long, and now he could finally actually do something about it.

Roy drowned in longing for revenge, in realizing that finally, finally, he could reach it.

He snapped his fingers together, and watched as his body went up in flames, as Envy writhed on the ground and screamed in Roy’s own voice.

Maes flinched violently backwards, and Riza’s face had drained entirely of color. Roy could silently admit that he found the sight more than a little disturbing himself, but even at the worst of times he could always muster up some false bravado.

“Come on, Envy,” he scolded, “you aren’t a very talented actor.”

Envy’s expression twisted immediately into one of derision. “Oh, no?” In a blink they were standing again, and red lightning crackled around them. “But it worked on you, didn’t it?”

And Roy found himself looking at Edward Elric.

“Remember this, Colonel Mustang?”

Roy sucked in a sharp breath, determined not to let how much the sight hurt him show. He hadn’t even gotten the chance to see Edward again yet, and even though he had other people he cared about beside him it was still almost too much to bear.

Envy was grinning again— a twisted, wild thing —and Roy could feel the others’ eyes on him, heavy with their concern.

“What’re they talking about?” Maes demanded, his voice just loud enough that Roy could hear. “Why do they look like Edward?”

Roy opened his mouth to reply, but Envy changed again, and his all the words he’d been about to say dried up in his throat.

With another flash of that horrible red light, Envy transformed into Hughes this time. Maes, clutching his abdomen with both hands, red seeping out from between his fingers.

“What about this one?” they asked, still smiling even as blood soaked the floor.

Roy grabbed Maes’ arm tightly, and he felt like a child doing so, but he couldn’t help it.

Yes. He did remember this one.

“Roy,” Maes began, voice careful. “What is this?”

Roy couldn’t find the strength or words to answer him. He felt newly vulnerable, laid bare as Envy threatened to reveal the extent of his suffering at their hands. Embarrassed, even. He’d never wanted them to know.

“Do you want to tell them, or should I?” the homunculus asked, and their laughter echoed down the halls once again after Roy failed to respond. Envy turned their attention back to Maes and Riza with a smile that was all teeth. “Sometimes your Colonel got a bit lonely, and since none of you were there to help I gave him the next best thing.”

A pause that seemed to stretch on impossibly long. Roy could hear his heartbeat in his ears.

“You tortured him,” Riza translated, “with our faces.” The words promised blood.

Maes’ hands were clenched into shaking fists at his sides.

Roy felt a sudden rush of guilt, and the words that had stuck in his throat before came tumbling out of his mouth. “I’m sorry,” he said, first, but the resulting expressions on his friends’ faces just made him feel worse. “I knew it wasn’t you,” he tried, desperate to explain. “I knew you wouldn’t—”

He broke off, unsure of how to finish that sentence. Knew they wouldn’t what? Hurt him, like Envy had? Say the things Envy had used their voices for? Yes, he knew that, but it had still affected him. He had still hesitated when he met Maes in the corridor because he struggled to recognize the real thing. What apology could possibly make up for that?

"Roy, it’s me,” Envy said, in Maes’ voice, and held out a hand. “I’m here to rescue you.”

Roy flinched. “Stop.” The word was barely a whisper.

Envy frowned. Blood had begun to drip from the corner of their mouth, and Roy couldn’t stand the sight of it.

“I don’t know what happened that made you stop trusting me,” Envy continued, still sounding like Hughes, echoing words they’d spoken forever ago. Roy didn’t have any reason to believe them now, and he shouldn’t have believed it then, but somehow itstill didn’t matter.It still hurt. “But I forgive you. Just promise me you’ll—”

“Enough.” The real Maes spoke this time, and Roy still couldn’t see his face. “Kill them, Roy.”

“I… I don’t know if I can,” Roy told him, honestly. “It’s your voice.” He hesitated. “I don’t care if it’s not real, I don’t want to watch you burn.”

Finally, finally Maes turned to look back at him from where he stood between Roy and Envy. Their eyes met, but Roy couldn’t read the emotion that he found there. He wasn’t used to this version of his best friend, erratic and discomposed and so clearly furious.

Roy was ashamed to admit it even to himself, because it felt like a disservice to Hughes, but somehow, he hadn’t realized just how much of a toll his death would take. Granted, he’d known it would be bad, but…

‘Bad’ didn’t even begin to cover this.

Riza, on the other hand? Roy knew her well enough to see how affected she was by the whole thing, but she seemed much more in control of her emotions.

Or at least he thought so, until she started firing more rounds directly into Envy’s chest, regardless of their disguise. “Nothing personal, Lieutenant Colonel,” she said to Hughes, with a false smile. Hegrinned back with all his teeth and drew a knife, hurling it into Envy’s face.

Roy didn’t know quite how to react, but a low growl from Envy made the decision for him. In a blink, their right arm transformed into a snake that lashed out at Hughes, who still stood nearest.

Before he could think better of it— and in fact, before thinking much of anything —Roy shoved himself forward and in front of his best friend. Ignoring Maes’ protests and the way he nearly lost his balance, Roy snapped his fingers.

The snake turned into ash with its fangs mere inches from his face, and the rest of Envy’s arm crumbled with it. They shrieked, and Roy couldn’t tell whether it was from rage or pain. He didn’t care.

“You don’t get to hurt them,” he snarled. After months of being helpless to stop Envy’s torment, Roy had his fire back. He’d be damned if he let any harm come to his people now. Roy took aim again, but with a hiss Envy transformed once more.

And suddenly, Roy found himself looking at Riza. And he froze.

Rationally, he knew. He knew for a fact it wasn’t real, this time. But it still sent his mind straight back to that phone booth.

And he still couldn’t do it. He couldn’t burn her, not again. Not ever again.

“Please,” she said softly, and held a hand out imploringly, “please, don’t hurt me.”

That… that gave Roy pause, but not because it sounded like Riza. In fact, he could hear a whisper of the homunculus’ own voice within the words.

It shouldn’t have mattered.Roy had made a promise to himself, years and years ago, that he’d never use his alchemy against Riza again. He could still remember the sound of her screams. Nothing could have tempted him to snap his fingers, in that moment.

But Envy’s voice still shook him out of the memory a bit, because he could hear how pained they sounded. How scared.

Roy had said it himself, not long ago— the homunculus wasn’t that good of an actor.

“Don’t burn me again,” Envy continued, and their voice cracked. “Please.”

Riza made an infuriated sound and started forward, but Roy found himself blocking her path. He was sure of it now; the fear in Envy’s voice was real.

The first thing Roy felt upon reaching this conclusion was a sick sort of satisfaction, which almost immediately turned into shame. Though he was thrilled to have his alchemy back, to finally be able to fight, a pit still formed in his stomach when he thought about using it to take a life. Even the life of someone like Envy, someone who deserved no redemption.

A monster, in the truest sense of the word.

Roy had been a monster, too, once. Maybe he still was one. But he couldn’t stand the idea of stooping to Envy’s level. The homunculus was desperate and hurting and Roy just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Just a few days ago, he would have given up another limb to get a chance for revenge like this. But now, as he looked into the homunculus’ poor imitation of his Lieutenant’s gorgeous eyes, all that anger ebbed away.

What did it matter now, paying Envy back for all the damage they’d done to him? Roy already had everything he wanted— Riza, her fingers laced through his own. Maes, his hand on Roy’s shoulder.

“I feel sorry for you,” Roy confessed, and it was the truth.

Envy, predictably, let loose a piercing, enraged shriek, and begun to crackle with energy. Roy watched, prepared to be unimpressed with whoever they chose to torment him with next.

He didn’t have much time to be underwhelmed, however— less predictably, Envy began to grow.

It took everything Roy had not to step back as Envy transformed, soon towering over the three of them. The homunculus dropped onto all fours, their face elongated into a snout, their whole body grew enormous and turned green. Most disturbing of all, vaguely human forms seemed to writhe just beneath the surface of their skin, clamoring for freedom.

Well. Fuck.

Roy had reached a point, in the past and in this fight, where he came to the conclusion that nothing Envy did could surprise him. Could they still get a reaction out of him with their old tricks? Of course, but Roy had still learned to expect it.

This, though? This was something else entirely. Something alien and more sinister than Roy had ever imagined that even Envy was capable of.

Before Roy could even properly react, Maes had moved in front of Roy again. This time, he held his arms out so that Roy couldn’t get by.

Judging by the expression on his and Riza’s faces, this new form of Envy’s came as less of a surprise to them. Roy didn’t really appreciate being left out of the loop.

Riza was at his side in a moment. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he said, his voice perhaps a bit more shrill than he intended. “I’ve certainly never seen them look like this before, though.”

“I know it’s frightening,” Riza said, a hand on his arm. “But they used this form earlier, when Hughes and I first encountered them. It looks different than before; weaker. They likely won’t be able to hold it for long.”

Roy could see what she meant, in a sense— the faces under the homunculus’ skin made it difficult to tell, but Envy’s monstrous form definitely looked unstable. Their limbs shifted in size every few seconds, and the red alchemic energy crackling in the air around them had fizzled to nothing more than a spark. Envy looked like they could collapse at any moment.

Right now, they were all bark and no bite. The homunculus posed no real threat.

Maes knew it too, from the expression on his face. “Finish them, Roy,” he said. “You deserve it.” Roy didn’t know what to do with the emotion in his best friend’s voice. He’d never heard Maes Hughes sound so vindictive in his entire life.

Roy would have been lying if he’d said it didn’t unsettle him.

He could talk to Maes later, though. Right now, he had to make a decision… and he’d sort of already made it.

“You don’t feel sorry for me,” Envy spat. They had stopped using Riza’s voice, at least, but now Envy’s words echoed with something far older. The homunculus took a shambling step forward, and one of their legs buckled out from under them. “You can’t look down on me. I destroyed you.”

“You certainly gave it your best shot,” Roy conceded, with a somewhat feral grin. “And you’re hardly the first to try.”

Envy recoiled slightly at that, then let loose a furious growl. “Get it over with then, Flame Alchemist. If you’re going to kill me, do it.”

“Well. You heard them, Roy.”

Roy didn’t turn look at Maes, and he didn’t glance at Riza, either. He kept his eyes on the homunculus in front of him, their enormous form already seeming to shrink, and shook his head.

“I won’t do it,” he said, plain and simple. “I won’t kill them.”

While the homunculus only stared at him, stunned,Maes bristled immediately. “What makes you think they deserve to be spared?” he demanded. “They certainly didn’t show you any mercy!”

True. But if Roy decided to burn Envy again, he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to stop. And he couldn’t go that far. Roy could make his peace with what the homunculus had done to him without getting revenge this way.

With renewed conviction, he turned to look at his Lieutenant. She had never led him astray before, and he would defer to her judgement now.

“I can dispose of them,” she offered, her voice quiet. “You shouldn’t have to. And I can tell you honestly that I won’t get any satisfaction from it. Not when they’re already like this.”

Maes seemed even more angry at that. “What the hell happened to getting revenge together, Hawkeye? I thought you would agree with me, at least.”

Riza just gestured at Roy. “He’s alive.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that—”

“It changes everything,” she said, with a frown. “He’s alive, and it’s his decision.”

They both turned to look at Roy, who could only shrug. “It’s not worth it,” he said, and turned to look the homunculus in the eyes again. “You’re not worth it.”

“You’re just too weak,” they spat, even as their form turned to dust at the edges. “You pathetic, filthy human—”

“For someone who hates humans so much, you sure are acting like one right now,” Roy pointed out. “You’re afraid to die, aren’t you, Envy?”

The homunculus took a step back. Roy took a step forward.

He could see it all clearly, now. The way they’d mocked his humanity at every turn. The way they’d taunted Roy with the faces of people he loved, treating everyone he cared about like a weakness when they’d always been his biggest strength.

Envy had loathed how Roy could still stand up to them after every hit,

“You’re the pathetic one,” Roy said. “Even though we’re supposed to be so much weaker than you, you tried to run. You’re a coward, Envy, and you’re alone, and you’re pathetic. You’re jealous of humans, and jealousy is ugly.”

Roy watched as the homunculus’ body crumbled, and a small green worm crawled out of the ashes. This, finally, was Envy’s true form.

“We humans have a nasty habit of continuing to fight even after we’ve fallen down,” Roy continued, more thoughtful now. “We keep coming back. The people around us always pick us up. And you’ve never had anything like that, so you envy us because of it. You waste so much of your breath cursing humans because you know you’ll never measure up.”

It would be so easy to crush the poor creature under his boot. Practically putting them out of their misery. Roy deserved revenge, and Envy certainly deserved death. But…

“I don’t have to kill you,” Roy said, with a smile on his face. “I’ve already won.”

Riza felt so, so proud, just looking at him. Her Colonel. Roy Mustang had once again proved that he could endure something horrible without letting himself be ruined. She had to wonder how he didn’t collapse right there after everything he’d been through; Riza still felt she might.

She loved him. So, so much, and she never thought she’d get the chance to say it. That she’d get to hear him say it back, even though she always knew. Riza had faced the dawn of this day determined to tear Roy’s killer apart, but how could she bring herself to care about that now?

Riza Hawkeye would do anything for Roy Mustang— an irrefutable fact of both their lives. She would follow him anywhere. If he could put his anger towards Envy aside, then why shouldn’t she do the same? She could follow him in this, too.

For a moment, she didn’t want to. For a moment, Riza decided that she would kill the thing in his place. She pointed a gun at the worm that was Envy, disgraced on the filthy ground, but Roy placed a hand over hers before she even moved for the trigger.

“Don’t,” he said, voice soft. “They’ve exhausted the power in their stone. You don’t need to kill them, they’re dying already.”

She didn’t even need to look at Envy again to know that it was true, and she didn’t want to. Riza never wanted to take her eyes off of her Colonel ever again. She still felt like he might disappear, too good to be true.

But even if it was all some trick, she couldn’t say no to him. Not when he looked at her like that.

She lowered her gun, even as Envy crawled towards them all.

“So that’s it, then?” they asked, now with a much higher voice. “None of you will kill me? Showing some mercy, are we, Hero of Ishval? After everything I’ve done?”

“In a way, killing you now would be a mercy,” Roy told them, voice flat. “And we all know that you don’t deserve it.”

Envy let out a weak-sounding chuckle. “How humiliating, to end up like this,” they said, as the laughter between their words dissolved into sobs. “You just had to be the one to ruin me, Colonel Mustang. Me, Envy. I should have killed you in that phone booth— you always brought more trouble than you were worth.”

Riza very nearly reached for her gun again, and Hughes took a single furious step forward, but Roy just shrugged as the homunculus continued to wail.

“A long time ago, I might have agreed with you,” he said. “I wondered whether I would’ve been better off, dying when you shot me. But giving up would be the coward’s way out. I still have a lot to keep living for.”

Envy’s sobs had tapered off, and now they let out a weak chuckle. “What a human answer,” they scoffed. “What an embarrassment. I wish you luck with that, Mustang, but I think I’ll be taking that ‘coward’s way out,’ now.”

Riza watched, stunned into speechlessness with horror, as Envy reached into their mouth. When they pulled out their hands, they held a philosopher’s stone— almost the size of the homunculus in this form. Envy struggled as the stone clung to thin pieces of sinew, but soon enough they pulled it loose.

Roy had tensed beside her at the sight, and Riza glanced at him. At the hand that held his crutch, the knuckles white and fingers trembling.

For a single, fleeting moment, she considered seizing the stone.

Of course, at the precise moment that Riza thought that thing could heal his leg, it burst. The stone exploded right before their eyes, leaving nothing but a red splatter on the ground. A pool of blood that Envy collapsed into.

“We’ll see how long your confidence holds up against what’s to come,” the homunculus said, their voice now barely more than a breath on the air. As their small form crumbled into dust, Envy whispered their final words. “Goodbye, Roy Mustang.”

As Envy disintegrated into nothing, they clung to a single promise— Roy Mustang would suffer today, too. And even better? More likely than not, so would at least one of the people who stood so confidently beside him.

Though he clearly tried to hide it, Maes could see his best friend repress a shudder at the homunculus’ final words. He didn’t blame Roy, either— “We’ll see how long your confidence holds up against what’s to come.”

Not exactly… comforting.

Maes Hughes was no fool. He knew that more dangers would face them on the Promised Day, and he knew that they needed to press on. But Roy’s unexpected, impossible appearance had uprooted everything else. How could Maes be expected to carry on with the previous plan like this? How could he pretend to be okay?

It seemed that Roy had made more peace with his own death than Maes had.

He couldn’t understand how Roy and Hawkeye both acted so calm, though he knew it had to be just that— an act. Even still, Maes’ whole outlook on this day had been irreparably altered.

Before, one of the things he had wanted most in the world was to avenge Roy’s death. Hell, he’d still wanted that, right up until Envy crumbled away. But Roy should’ve wanted revenge more than either of them. Maes had sort of wanted to scream at his best friend when he chose not to kill Envy.

Maybe it didn’t matter. The homunculus was dead either way, and Maes had different priorities now, anyway.

Even more than revenge— though in an ideal world, Maes could have had both—he’d wanted Roy back. Of course he had.Maes had wished for a miracle more times than he cared to count. But he hadn’t thought that he’d actually ever get one.

Now, Roy was alive. Now, in Maes’ mind, every other aspect of the original plan came second to making sure he stayed that way.

As Envy had implied, none of them were out of the woods yet.

Looking at Roy’s face, the face of his best friend, the face he never thought he’d see again, Maes found himself all but paralyzed with fear. Any one of them could die today.

Maes thought he had accepted that risk, but to lose Roy now, after only just getting him back? He wouldn’t be able to bear it.

Looking at Hawkeye, Maes could tell she’d reached the same page. He nodded at her, and she nodded back.

They both had a fair bit of experience in rescuing Roy Mustang, and Maes considered it just as much of a priority as saving the world.

After several seconds passed of the three of them standing in silence, staring at the place where Envy had died, Maes put his hand back on Roy’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Roy turned to look at him and somehow managed a smile. “I am now.”

Olivier Armstrong, generally speaking, did not do anything by half. If she wanted to stage a coup, she’d stage a goddamn coup, and she’d do it well.

Things had indeed been going well, for the most part, until the beast they’d had to bury in tar back in Briggs showed up again. It didn’t seem particularly fond of her, either. Still, if she’d earned a medal for every time she’d won with less than favorable odds, she’d have been more decorated than the Fuhrer himself, that bastard.

She still half expected him to turn back up.

Well, if Bradley reared his ugly head, she’d cut it clean off his shoulders. For the time being, Olivier knew she needed to focus on the task at hand.

After all, it seemed that her luck might be changing. As much as Olivier detested her younger brother at times, she had needed his help. Not to mention Izumi Curtis and her enormous husband, who defeated the homunculus together within seconds of turning up. If Olivier weren’t so impressed, she might have been insulted.

Olivier would have kept fighting even without knowing that the Elrics were somewhere in all of this mess, too, though it did inspire her. Even injured, the mannequins and men remaining in Central headquarters didn’t pose much of a threat to her with Sloth dispatched.

Once again, she was faced with the Fuhrer’s empty chair, and the temptation to take it herself. And even though it seemed for all the world that her soldiers had won the day, Olivier still couldn’t bring herself to sit. She’d wanted to lead this country for so long, but after being forced to live in Central, she just couldn’t picture it as her home.

“Are you going to take command here, sir?”

She shook her head. “I can’t imagine why anyone would want to sit in a place where they would be so easily shot at,” she said, and whirled on her heel. “Let’s move.”

Then, the news— her soldiers had taken control of the main entrances into headquarters.

“Briggs forces now control nine tenths of the Central Command Center,” they told her, and General Armstrong listened as her men cheered.

Then, of course, there was another voice on the phone.

The Fuhrer King Bradley was raised and trained for a singular purpose— to control Amestris. To think that Mustang’s people had actually believed that the stunt they pulled with his train would remove him from the equation.

With every step he took closer to Central Command, he grew more surefooted, and gripped his blade tighter. As long as he could still fight, Amestris belonged to him. No one who stood in his way would stand a chance.

It all ended today.

“Gentlemen, I’m back,” he said, with little ceremony. No time to mince words, he had almost reached Central headquarters. “Things have been quite astir while I’ve been away, haven’t they? As of now, I am personally taking command back. I will oust these rebels. All available Central forces, give me a hand.”

He knew he could take on Briggs’ forces alone and still win if he had to, but it wouldn’t hurt to have help. Besides, his citizens should see that he was alive and attacking from the front.

On occasion, Greed and Ling did agree with each other. They both wanted power, and were prepared to take risks to achieve this goal. They both trusted the Fullmetal Alchemist; even Greed could admit that the kid was a powerful ally, though Ling’s voice in his head stubbornly referred to Edward a friend rather than an asset.

Most importantly, though, they both agreed that the Fuhrer King Bradley needed to die.

When Greed thought of Wrath, he saw memories all but swallowed up by static, the pained faces of people he knew he cared about but could barely remember. He also remembered how formidable the other homunculus was with a sword in his hand.

Greed thought Ling would need some serious convincing to go up against all of that, but… apparently not.

When Ling thought of Bradley, he pictured that girl,Lan Fan, clutching a bloody arm. Some moment of a fight Greed hadn’t been there for.

He was here now, though. And when Bradley’s voice sounded over the radio, both homunculus and host were of one mind.

Oh good, Greed thought. Together, they grinned. Today just got interesting.

“Mommy!” Elicia Hughes called out from her spot by the windowsill, her voice bright with glee. “I think it’s starting!”

The eclipse, Gracia thought, and took her daughter’s hand. The other went instinctively to her stomach. For better or worse, she and her children would be in Amestris for whatever the rest of the Promised Day might bring.

Edward could tell that Scar still wanted to turn back and intervene— he’d looked conflicted since they left Hawkeye and Hughes behind. Like he wanted to say something else about how revenge wasn’t the answer.

Frankly, he wasn’t much interested in what Scar had to say. Not about this.

Not about Roy.

When Scar stopped short in the hallway and muttered an ominous “We’re close,” though? Well, then Ed sort of had to listen.

He could feel it, too, after all. “I’ve got a bad feeling,” Ed admitted. “Whatever we find on the other side of that doorway, it’s not going to be pleasant.” And he strode forward.

Later, when describing the events that followed to Winry— with some considerable omissions to avoid having a wrench chucked at his head —Ed would be able to reflect on what an understatement ‘unpleasant’ turned out to be.

A deranged doctor and over a dozen soldiers who were only marginally less intimidating than Bradley? Sure, why not. Somehow, this day still managed to surprise him at every turn.

The most unsettling turn of events, however, was finding himself in a life or death battle with Scar as his only ally. The two of them had had and somewhat resolved their past differences, but even after their tense alliance in the north, Ed still would never have predicted this.

Scar, fighting at his back, and Ed trusting him there. Even with everything else that had happened today, it was weird.

He didn’t have much time to dwell on it, though, considering the aforementioned life and death circumstances. Ed barely managed to block a sword with his automail arm, then lunged forward to stab at the attacker’s shoulder with the blade he’d transmuted there.

God, he wished Hawkeye and Hughes were here. Even more than that, he wanted his brother.

“Strike to kill,” Scar called from a few feet away. He’d already used his destructive alchemy on a few of the men, but more kept coming. “They won’t hesitate to kill you.”

Fair advice— it sounded almost like something that Roy would’ve said to him, but that didn’t make Ed feel much better about it. For obvious reasons.

Besides, Ed knew that already. You’ve tried to kill me before, Ed nearly pointed out. I know not to pull punches when it comes to self defense.

Then again, Ed didn’t have much of a right to be mad about that. He had sort of shot Scar that very same day. Maybe he should apologize for that, actually.

Ed shook his head to clear it. Regardless of what Scar said, it didn’t matter whether he used lethal force or not. These soldiers— people, not like the mannequins from before —seemed to be trying a lot harder to kill Scar than him. And Ed had a sinking feeling that he knew why.

Sacrifice. The word echoed in his mind. He still didn’t know what it meant, and he still didn’t want to find out.

Soon enough, though, he had his answer.

The doctor called five of the soldiers over to him, and placed a hand on the chalk transmutation circle at his feet.

Ed watched the five men disintegrate before his eyes. Almost immediately, an enormous eye opened beneath his feet. And he knew exactly what would happen next.

Ed had experienced this before, and more than once, but it didn’t frighten him any less. And for the first time since the age of eleven… he was going through the gate entirely by himself.

When Edward Elric was ripped apart and dragged into the darkness this time, no one called his name or reached a hand out to him. The only person who might have been able to help was Scar, who just stared at him in silent horror.

When the void consumed the Fullmetal Alchemist this time, he felt utterly alone.

Scar stared at the place where Edward had vanished, torn to pieces by the eerie, small hands that had emerged from the circle.

He had never felt more justified for his hatred of alchemy.

The soldiers that remained in the room started towards Scar again, but before he could even think about what to do next he heard footsteps sounding down the hall.

He turned just in time to see Lieutenant Hawkeye and Colonel Hughes enter into the chamber. Standing behind them both and balancing on a pair of crutches was none other than Roy Mustang.

Scar opened his mouth, but he had no idea what to say. Mustang looked even worse off than he had the last time Scar had found himself in this underground labyrinth. His companions didn’t seem to be faring much better, if the blood on Hawkeye’s shoulder and the expression on Hughes’ face were any indication.

The doctor spoke before Scar could.

“Mustang,” he said, with a wide, sinister smile. “How wonderful of you to join us. Makes my job far easier.”

All Alphonse could hear besides his own thoughts were his feet as they pounded across the pavement. They still hadn’t reached Central headquarters, and he had to find his brother.

He had to tell him that Pride had escaped, and far more importantly, he had to tell him about Roy. Al still couldn’t wrap his mind around the thought.

“Hurry up,” Al called over his shoulder. With a quick glance at Heinkel and Yoki he could see that they were both breathing heavily, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to look Doctor Marcoh in the eyes. How could he have known all this time?

Suddenly, Heinkel froze, staring at the ground. “Something’s wrong.”

That was all the warning Alphonse had before an eye opened up in the ground, directly under him. And Al recognized it.

The others were shouting, demanding to know what was going on, but Al couldn’t answer. He couldn’t concentrate on anything besides the pain… and the fear. Al knew exactly what this meant. For whatever reason, he was being sent through the gate.

Something about it felt different, though that was hardly a comfort. Within moments, Al found himself back in the white space which had haunted so many of his nightmares. The enormous, intricately carved gate looked exactly the same. This time, however, the unforgiving form of Truth wasn’t there to greet him.

Instead, Alphonse Elric met the eyes of a familiar face. His face. Paler, older, and emaciated, his body sat on the floor in front of him.

As Al stared, it offered him a small smile and an open hand.

Maes saw Scar first, and. Admittedly, his vision went a little red, and he didn’t even hear what the doctor in the center of the room said.

You knew, he wanted to scream at the Ishvalan until his voice was raw. All this time, you knew, and you let me grieve. Maes very nearly strode up to Scar and punched him in the face.

The thing that stopped him was Riza’s voice. “Where is Edward?” she demanded, and Maes’ heart dropped all the way to his feet. Of course, the answer to this question was far more important.

He looked around, somewhat desperately, but the kid was nowhere to be seen. Worry joined the fury that twisted Maes’ stomach into knots, but by no means replaced it. “Where is he?” he demanded, whirling on Scar once again. “You were supposed to protect him.”

Roy started forward, stumbling a bit with his crutches on the uneven ground. Maes reached out to steady him, but his best friend shook the hand off. Roy had fixed a cold stare on the doctor who stood several paces away from them, and the transmutation circle at his feet.

“What did you do to Fullmetal?” Roy asked, and his voice shook. Maes could hardly blame him. Roy hadn’t even seen Edward again yet, and he’d seemed so sure earlier that the kid would be safe with Scar.

The doctor only laughed at the clear concern in Roy’s voice. “Don’t worry, Colonel Mustang,” he said. A gold tooth glinted in the room’s dim light as he smiled. “You’ll see him soon enough.”

Chapter Text

When Edward regained awareness— and essentially reformed into existence —he was still screaming.

He probably would have kept right on screaming, too, if he hadn’t almost immediately collided headfirst with the ground. Before Ed could do much more than think ow, a thud and a muffled groan made it very clear that he had company.

“Teacher!” Ed rushed to her side and helped her sit up. Izumi Curtis looked just as confused as he felt. “Are you okay?”

She lifted a hand to the side of her head. “Ugh. More or less.”

Well, that was something, at least. Now to begin asking the dozen other questions he had. “What are you doing here?”

“I have no idea, but I could ask you the same thing,” Izumi pointed out, looking around with distaste. “Where the hell are we?”

As if Ed had any idea what was going on himself. “I don’t know, I just got sort of… whooshed here,” he said. ‘Whooshed’ felt like somewhat of an understatement, but ‘torn apart and put back together again’ was a bit of a mouthful. Besides, his teacher didn’t need to have the feeling explained to her. “Nowhere good, it looks like.”

As if to prove his point, another thud sounded just behind the both of them— this time much louder, with the sharp clang of metal hitting stone. Ed squeezed his eyes shut. He knew before he even turned around that it would be his brother.

What he hadn’t expected, however, was for Al to remain completely motionless when Ed called out to him. With mounting alarm, Ed realized that the eyes of his brother’s helmet were blank and dim.

“Al!” He knew he sounded desperate and worried, but he didn’t care. The last time he’d seen Al, he was possessed by Pride and then trapped behind a wall of stone. And before that they hadn’t seen each other in months. And now he wouldn’t wake up, and Ed had been pretty damn scared before, but if something had happened to his brother—

“Snap out of it, Al! What’s wrong?! Hey!”

Distantly, he heard Izumi muttering something under her breath, but nothing could pull his focus from Alphonse. At least until another voice emerged from the darkness.

“One… two… three… four of you? That’s one short. Perhaps the last one is being made now?”

Ed whirled around and came face to face with one of the most terrifying things he’d seen in his life. Which was not exactly a low bar.

A dark, hulking figure covered head to toe in large, unblinking red eyes and wearing a smile with too many teeth. It immediately reminded Edward of Truth. Far more horrific, however, was the fact that it had a hostage.

Hohenheim. Sticking out at various angles from the human-shaped void were three of his father’s limbs. Hohenheim’s head was visible too, hanging upside down. Ed felt as though he might be sick.

Izumi blanched beside him. “What is that thing?”

Edward didn’t particularly want to find out. “Let him go,” he spat, hands shaking slightly. He wanted to lunge forward, wanted to fight, but every instinct in his body was screaming at him to run. To get far away from whatever the hell this was.

He couldn’t just jump into the fray without knowing what he was up against, but he couldn’t leave his father, let alone his teacher or Alphonse.

“Edward,” Hohenheim began, voice unsteady, “and he caught Alphonse, too, and your alchemy teacher… you’ll have to excuse my sorry appearance—”

“Mind yourself,” the creature interrupted conversationally, their smile not wavering once. “I’ll draw the Philosopher’s Stone from you later, when it becomes more convenient.”

Okay, Ed did not like the sound of that. “Hohenheim, what the hell is this thing?”

For a moment, a strained smile was Edward’s only answer. “A copy of me, the one the homunculi call ‘Father.’”

Ed didn’t know what he had expected, but it certainly wasn’t that. “You’re telling me this is that bearded bastard?” He shook his head. “If I’d met this guy before, I think I’d remember.”

“I destroyed the body he was using, but—”

“You keep your mouth closed, Hohenheim,” Father said, and with a crackle of alchemic energy Hohenheim’s head disappeared inside the thing’s body. Ed took half a step backwards, and his shoe bumped into Alphonse’s armor where he still lay unresponsive on the ground.

Wake up, Ed thought, more than a little desperately. I need you.

“Now that’s taken care of,” Father continued, and spread his arms wide. “Greetings, my sacrifices! Welcome to my castle!”

So much had happened since he was transported to this space that Ed hadn’t observed his surroundings as much as he normally would. This grand gesture of the homunculi’s ‘Father’ gave him cause to look up for the first time, and what Ed saw left him stricken with fear.

A giant, red-Irised eye like the ones covering Father, but this one enormous enough to span practically the entire ceiling. Ed felt like it could see straight through him.

He turned to look anxiously at Alphonse again, but his brother still hadn’t moved an inch. “Come on Al, wake up,” he said. He didn’t care if Father thought he was weak, he needed Al. Ed didn’t stand a chance unless they could do this together. “Please, please wake up. Al! Alphonse!”

Edward was still screaming for his little brother to come back to him when Roy Mustang fell from the ceiling.

Now that Roy had started fighting, he didn’t intend to stop.

Still, even though Maes and Riza’s presence had given him some much-needed strength, Roy couldn’t go all out against the swordsmen who guarded the doctor when he had allies in the room. Not that it mattered anyway.

The doctor smiled wider, and Roy felt something twist in his gut. “My word, the people up there are so unreliable,” he began, with a small shake of his head. “To think they didn’t prepare the fifth sacrifice for this day. But then again, they only managed to assemble those who took the bait for something small, like immortality. I suppose it’s no surprise they didn’t get the job done.”

Roy didn’t have time to wrap his mind around the words before the trained swordsmen attacked, though his heart did stutter in his chest at the word ‘sacrifice.’ He wasn’t a fool— he knew the doctor meant him.

But again, it didn’t matter. They fought with everything they had, but one stoke of bad luck was all it took t shift the balance in their enemies’ favor. Maes went down first, due to a bullet getting stuck in the chamber of his gun. Roy knew that Hughes preferred knives any day of the week, but his sharp eye meant his aim was almost as precise as Hawkeye’s, and without his support they couldn’t keep up with the countless trained soldiers.

Scar froze with a sword held out on either side of his neck, and Roy didn’t let himself slow down. Not then, or when one of the swordsmen pinning Maes twisted his arm painfully behind his back. Roy just set the attacker’s hair on fire and kept moving.

He wound up fighting back to back with Hawkeye for a moment, but of course they were all too quickly surrounded.

Roy knew that his status as a sacrifice meant they were fighting to incapacitate rather than kill him, but he hadn’t expected them to go for the gloves. The swordsmen seemed so mindless, and so Roy was completely caught off guard by the precision that rendered him useless when one made a clean cut in the fabric.

Riza had always carried around multiple pairs for him, but that was before. Roy saw no reason why she would bring more than one pair with her now, and even if by some miracle she had? He couldn’t exactly get to her with both of his arms pinned behind his back.

Last to fall was Riza herself, of course, and she nearly managed to land a shot on the doctor before a soldier appeared out of nowhere to take the hit instead. Two more charged forward and wrestled her to the ground.

Roy’s stomach dropped with her.

Though he could at least be confident that the doctor needed him to fulfill his duty as a sacrifice first, he had no reason to believe that his people would remain unharmed.

The doctor clapped once. “Good, hold them there.” Roy tore his gaze away from Riza’s furious expression. “Now then, Mustang, we are out of time. I would appreciate it if you cooperate. Could you perform a little human transmutation and open the gateway for us?”

Roy’s heart stuttered in his chest. Even after months of being treated as a ‘sacrifice’ rather than a person, he still hadn’t expected… this.

Clearly the others hadn’t, either.

“What?” Maes demanded, already the picture of fury. Roy knew exactly what his best friend must have immediately thought of upon hearing the doctors words— blood-covered notes scattered across his kitchen floor. Years ago, after Ishval, Roy had considered human transmutation. Riza knew it, too, though she didn’t react beyond a sharp inhale. Her eyes had gone wide with horror.

“It doesn’t matter who,” the doctor continued, as if Maes hadn’t spoken. “A family member you’ve lost, a lover, a friend.” Here he looked at Riza and Hughes in turn. “Everything is set up.” He gestured to the circle already drawn at his feet, and Roy could do nothing but stare at it in shock.

“To be a sacrifice… I have to commit human transmutation?” He felt lightheaded. Numb.

Maes thrashed violently against the arms holding him. “Roy—”

That was all he got out before one of the soldiers knocked the butt of his sword into the back of Maes’ head. Roy flinched.

The doctor just kept on smiling. “Yes. Those who have opened the gateway can become sacrifices.”

It made sense, the more Roy thought about it. This was why the Elric brothers were always left unharmed, why they kept Roy alive after so many State Alchemists died during Scar’s attacks. Also likely why Roy had been promoted to Central in the first place, not that he ever made it there.

Why hadn’t they forced him through the gateway already, though? Why now, when Roy finally thought he had a way out?

This also explained Ed vanishing, just moments ago. He’d been sent through the gateway, and had yet to return. For the space of a single breath, Roy wondered whether going through himself would send him to the same place. He barely entertained the thought, though— since meeting the Elrics, Roy had not been tempted by human transmutation once.

Not since he saw what it did to them.

What would it do to Edward and Alphonse, Roy wondered, if he went through the gateway himself? What would it do to Riza and Hughes, who would be forced to watch it happen?

“But it doesn’t work,” Roy protested, the words meant to stall more than legitimately protest. “It never works. I’d be a fool to try human transmutation knowing it would fail.”

“You’re right,” the doctor conceded, with a small nod of his head. “You don’t need to succeed at human transmutation. All you have to do is open the gateway and return. But you won’t be able to open the gate without a reason.”

With those words, Roy understood. They needed something to hold over him, and now they had it. Despite how Roy had felt he had nothing to lose in that cell— or maybe because of it —the homunculi could never have convinced him to perform human transmutation.

As Maes continued struggling and rage shone in Riza’s eyes, Roy’s stomach twisted with nausea. His mind was painting a very clear picture of how the doctor could convince him, now.

His lieutenant, always several steps ahead of him, said nothing, but he could tell she understood the position they were in, too. Her expression remained murderous, but she put up no fight when one of the soldiers holding her shoved her further into the dirt. Roy just barely managed to bite back a protest.

Maes, unfortunately, had no such reservations.

“Roy sure as hell won’t be doing human transmutation,” he spat, still thrashing. “Let him go.”

“I am afraid he will have to open the gateway, Lieutenant Colonel,” the doctor said, and he sounded almost bored. “We’re out of time.” He gestured to the swordsmen holding Riza, and—

Everything went red, for a second there.

The mindless soldier didn’t hesitate for a second before slicing a deep gash into the top of Riza’s shoulder, dangerously close to her neck. And Roy could do nothing but sit there and watch as she fell forward, like a puppet with its strings cut. Blood everywhere.

Roy couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. He could hear Maes screaming, distantly, but he couldn’t make out the words. He couldn’t pay attention to anything in the world apart from his Lieutenant. The pained look in her eyes. The way her hands trembled as she pressed one to the open wound. The blood.

“Riza?” Her name on his lips was barely a choked whisper, and so he tried again. Louder. “Riza. Lieutenant. Are you… can you hear me? RIZA! Answer me, please!”

The doctor said something else, and Maes shouted back, but Roy didn’t give a damn. He kept calling for her, but she wouldn’t answer, would barely even stir at the sound of his voice. Every breath Roy took felt impossible, knowing that hers were growing shallower by the minute.

It should have been him bleeding out on the floor instead. They’d grieved him already; he knew they could survive it. After everything Roy had already suffered, he wasn’t strong enough to lose her.

The doctor stepped in front of Riza’s body, and Roy finally met his eye. “Perform human transmutation and become our fifth sacrifice.” Evidently, the doctor’s patience for asking nicely had run out. “If you’re quick about it, you might be able to save her.”

Roy shoved down the faint hope that tried to form at the words. Could it heal her, if he paid a sufficient toll? He didn’t know, and he couldn’t take that chance. Human transmutation had never succeeded before, and Roy wasn’t about to expose his Lieutenant to that level of risk.

But he couldn’t very well watch her bleed out, either.

“Save her first, and then I’ll do it,” he promised.

“Roy, NO!” Maes shouted. “You can’t— are you crazy?”

“We’ve been friends for years,” Roy said, and somehow managed to keep his voice steady. “You should know the answer to that by now.”

The idea of going through the gateway terrified him, but what choice did he have? He’d rather lose another limb than either of them. Because Roy knew very well that if he didn’t act quick enough, they’d hurt Hughes, too.

He didn’t say as much, but judging from the look on Maes’ face, he understood. Roy couldn’t bring himself to look at Riza again, since he knew what he would find. It would devastate them both if he did this, but it would kill them if he didn’t.

“I don’t think you’re in a position to bargain, Mustang,” the doctor told him. “You can try to transmute her after she’s bled out, if you would prefer. Or we could move on to Colonel Hughes.”

Roy opened his mouth, but before he could find the words, Riza spoke.

“I… won’t die.” Her voice was strained, her breath even more so. She kept one hand pressed to the wound while with the other she began to push herself up from the floor. “None of us… are dying. Not… not today.”

“If people could obtain immortality through sheer force of will, it wouldn’t be quite fair,” the doctor told her, then turned back to Roy. “What’ll it be, Mustang? Your precious woman is about to die. If you do nothing, she’ll bleed out.”

Roy gritted his teeth. “If I perform human transmutation, I could kill her.”

The doctor nodded at this. “I am a reasonable man. I am also a doctor who has studied alchemy, with a philosopher’s stone in my possession. You must go through the gateway first, of course, but I am certain I can save this woman’s life. Of course, if she dies before you make up your mind, there’s nothing more I can do.” He glanced back down at Riza. “She’s gone awfully quiet already.”

“I’ll kill you,” Maes spat, but his face was pale as he stared at the Lieutenant’s blood on the floor. An empty threat, and everyone in the room knew it.

“Roy,” Riza said, then, barely a breath, but loud enough for him to hear. “Don’t...”

She had probably meant to say more, but her voice failed her and her eyes rolled upward.

“You’ll do it, won’t you, Mustang?”

The blood on the floor. The philosopher’s stone shining in the doctor’s hand. Red, red, red.

“All right.” He’d never had another choice to begin with, not really. Not when… this was the alternative.

Roy would go through the gateway. He would become a sacrifice by sacrificing a piece of himself. He would do anything, as long as it kept his people safe. As long as Riza would live.

The doctor grinned at him.

Maes could barely breathe through the horror he felt. They had been effectively and irreversibly cornered within moments, and he grasped at straws in his mind for something, anything he could do to get all of them out of this alive.

But he was pinned down, a sword at his throat. He opened his mouth, but found he couldn’t speak. How could he bargain, though, when his life was worth nothing here? All the doctor cared about was sending Roy through the gateway, and of course Roy would do it if it meant keeping them safe.

More likely than not, if Maes spoke up now he would get stabbed for the trouble, too. Just like his words had gotten Riza hurt.

So, another protest died on Maes’ lips. The idea of Roy committing human transmutation took his mind right back to after Ishval, back when his best friend had almost attempted it of his own volition. Now, these people wanted to foce Roy through the gate, and Maes felt he might be sick, but what could he say? Hawkeye’s blood had already formed a puddle on the floor.

When Roy put his head down and acquiesced, Maes couldn’t fault him for it. If it were Gracia’s life, Maes would have done anything these people asked. Hell, Maes knew he’d never understand the bond between his best friend and the Lieutenant, but he loved Hawkeye, too. He would’ve gone through the gateway himself to stop this. If he could.

On that sunny day so long ago, Maes remembered thinking he would’ve done the same for Roy.

But Maes Hughes was no alchemist. He was just a man, hopeless to stop harm from coming to the people he loved most in the world. Not for the first time.

“So, you’ll do it?” the doctor asked, eyes only for Roy, who had refused to take his own off the ground. Roy nodded.

“Please,” Maes said, though he didn’t even know what he was asking for. What good it would do. He couldn’t lose Roy, not again, he just got him back. But he couldn’t lose Riza, either. Moments ago Maes had felt happier than he had in what felt like forever, and now everything was a mess all over again. “Please.”

No one looked at him. Riza was the only person who even reacted to his words, but she turned her gaze to the ceiling instead.

Roy’s voice was still a wreck. “What choice do I have? I’ll do it, as long as you promise you’ll save her life.”

“Of course, I’m a man of my word,” said the doctor, but made no move to do so. “I must admit, though, that I’m surprised at you giving in so easily. And after I’ve heard so much about your resolve.”

If Maes got the chance, he was going to kill him.

Roy’s only reaction was a rueful smile. “I’m not like you. I don’t treat the people fighting for me as sacrificial pawns.”

The doctor gave a pointed glance to Riza at this. “Well, they seem happy to serve as sacrificial pawns, as you should be.” He gestured at the soldiers around the room. “I fed these men, who were abandoned by their parents and would have died if I did nothing. I gave them a first-rate education, and a reason to exist. They are grateful to me.”

“They’re not grateful, they’re trained dogs.”

“Maybe, but you’d know all about that. Wouldn’t you, Mustang?”

Maes struggled in the soldiers’ hold again, but stopped when he felt Riza’s eyes on him. As he turned to look at her, her gaze shifted upward once again, and Maes’ breath caught.

“You’re a genius,” he mouthed, when she met his eyes once more. She smiled, full of pain and relief in equal measure.

Out loud, Maes cleared his throat. This finally made the doctor and Roy turn, just in time for Maes to offer a smile of his own. “I think you have a little too much faith in your guards, doctor,” he said. “It appears you’ve allowed yourself to be caught off balance.”

“What do you—”

His words dissolved into a scream as he vanished, and only a moment later a shower of blood descended from the ceiling. Maes didn’t even try to hide his satisfaction.

Above their heads, the doctor was kicking his feet and scrabbling at what appeared to be saliva. As long as it kept him from coming anywhere near Roy, Maes didn’t feel the need to ask questions.

“Let me go! I’m the only doctor who can use alchemy here. If you kill me, you’re killing the woman, too. Do you understand?”

‘The woman.’ Maes seriously debated shooting the doctor while he was restrained, just to provide a little extra motivation. But they did need him alive, and the only person who could have avoided hitting anything important even with the man thrashing around like that was bleeding out.

It was at this precise moment that the Xingese girl dropped from the ceiling. She threw her kunai before her feet hit the ground, and one of them found purchase in the side of one of the men holding Maes. He punched the other, and got to his feet as he took stock of the room.

Roy also had managed to shake off the swordsmen holding him— this girl and Zampano both had impeccable aim. Maes didn’t know where his best friend’s crutches had wound up in the scuffle, but that didn’t matter to Roy. He only had eyes for Riza, and the moment he was free he began crawling towards her.

Maes’ heart ached. He still hadn’t properly processed the fact that Roy was missing a leg, what that had to mean. What else he could have suffered at the homunculi’s hands. There just wasn’t time to dwell on those thoughts, and Maes certainly couldn’t afford to do so now.

Instead, he rushed to Roy’s side and helped him up.

“I’ve got you,” he said, for their ears alone, and started towards Hawkeye.

Roy’s face was still pale, and his eyes didn’t leave the spot where Riza lay on the ground. Still, Maes was rewarded with a reply, just as quiet— “You always do.”

Roy lunged forward the moment they were close to his Lieutenant, before Maes could answer, and lifted her off the ground and into his arms. He was covered in her blood within moments.

“Riza! Riza, open your eyes. Don’t you die on me! Riza, stay with me!”

He sounded so afraid that Maes had to look away. Seconds later, he was glad for it— one of the soldiers had apparently rushed at Roy’s back the moment he knelt on the floor, sword raised.

Maes flung a knife into the man’s throat without even thinking about it.

Roy was still calling to Riza, and Maes could feel his own desperation building. Surely someone could—

The girl from Xing. Mei Chang, with her alkahestry. Maes scanned the room again for her, but when he met her young eyes, she’d already started heading their way with her shoulders squared.

God. He got the same feeling then that he always had around the Elrics, even though he’d never exchanged two words with this kid. You’re too young to have seen so much.

“She comes first!” Mei said, more to herself than anything, but Maes saw the place on the floor where her gaze flitted unconsciously. The vial containing the philosopher’s stone had skittered across the floor.

He almost wanted to go after it himself, but as he stared it got kicked further away again, and there was no chance in hell he’d leave Roy’s side now.

Roy, who was still begging Riza to wake up, to answer him.

Mei shouldered past all the people in her way, Maes included. “Let me take care of this!” Before Roy could protest, she drew a circle in blood on the floor and positioned her kunai within it to form a star. Blue light sparked into the air from each of the five points when Mei clapped her hands to the floor, and sure enough Riza’s expression twitched.

“Riza!” Roy lifted her off the ground again in the space of a second, his face buried in her hair.

“I’ve stopped the bleeding for now, but you’ll have to get her to a proper doctor soon,” Mei said, sounding almost guilty for not being able to do more.

Roy just stared at her for a second, and Maes realized somewhat belatedly that his best friend would of course have no idea who she was. “I don’t know why you would help me,” he began, voice still a bit unsteady, “but thank you. I owe you my life.”

Maes stepped forward to object, but the girl lifted a hand before he could.

“You don’t owe me anything,” Mei said, with a small smile. “She’s a friend of Alphonse.”

It was evident from the look on Roy’s face that this explanation provided more questions rather than answers, questions that Roy might have spared a moment to ask had Riza not opened her eyes at that precise moment.

“Colonel, I… I’m sorry—”

Roy shook his head. “Don’t apologize, and don’t strain yourself. You should just rest.”

Maes highly doubted that Riza would listen to that, and she proved him right in the next moment.

“I hoped you would… understand the look I tried to give you,” she continued, and winced a little as she struggled to sit up. “I wanted you to see that help was coming.”

Roy smiled at her, soft and pained. “Maybe it’s because we’ve been apart so long. I’m afraid I may not pick up on our hidden messages as easily as I used to,” he said. “But if you meant the look that said ‘perform human transmutation and I’ll kill you myself,’ I did understand that one.”

“And you didn’t listen.” Riza looked unimpressed, and yet completely unsurprised.

Roy shrugged, a bit helpless. “It was a more acceptable risk than losing you.” He pressed a kiss to her temple.

Maes felt again as though he were intruding. This moment, these whispered words should be only for the two of them, but Maes wouldn’t chance a single step away. Riza wounded, Roy still weak… nothing mattered more than protecting them, even if the chimeras had made quick work of the soldiers.

He was so, so glad that Gracia had left, Maes wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on saving the world if she and their children were still in Amestris. They would be safe outside the country’s borders. Still, in moments like this, Maes longed to see her despite everything.

Maybe he would’ve been able to breathe easier with Gracia’s arms around him. Then again, it seemed he could barely keep the people in front of him safe.

He would be proven right all too soon.

“We need to move,” Maes said, even though he hated himself for it. Roy’s arms tensed around his Lieutenant, but he didn’t object, so Maes turned to Riza. “Can you stand?”

The fact that she didn’t respond immediately was answer enough.

Roy shifted as if to pull her to her feet, but then winced. It took Maes a moment to realize why— his crutches were on the ground a few paces away. Roy wouldn’t be able to stand on his own, let alone help Riza up. The expression on his face made Maes want to cry all over again.

Without a word, Maes brought the crutches over and helped Roy get situated on them. Mei stayed by Riza’s side while he did so, and once Roy had waved his hands off Maes helped Riza up, too. He wrapped an arm firmly around her shoulders and made sure she had a good hold on his waist.

Roy looked as if having Riza anywhere but at his side physically pained him, and Maes could understand why. “We won’t let anything else happen to her,” he promised, and Roy nodded.

“I know,” he said, though he barely looked reassured. “I trust you.” Those words, at least, rang true. Maes couldn’t understand how, after everything that had happened, Roy still had such unshakeable faith in him.

Maes turned away, eyes stinging. “Thank you for your help,” he told the chimera nearest to him, Darius, who only shook his head in dismissal of the gratitude. “And thank you.”

The latter he directed at Mei Chang, but she didn’t even glance his way, too busy scanning the room. He followed her gaze, and they both saw it at the same time— the small, stoppered glass vial that contained the secrets of life and death. It had been kicked all the way to the door during the fight, and its faint glow tinged the shadows around it blood red.

“The philosopher’s stone,” Mei whispered, voice thick with relief, and took a single step toward it. One step was all she had time for, however, before a figure emerged from the shrouded exit and snatched the bottle from the ground.

King Bradley. Completely covered in blood, breathing heavily, and a fire in his eyes.

Eyes which were, Maes realized with mounting horror, fixed directly on Roy. Judging by how pale his best friend had gone, Roy had realized it, too.

For several seconds, no one moved or spoke. Maes hardly dared breathe.

“Long time no see, Mustang,” Bradley said, finally. “I wondered where you’d run off to. Or limped, I suppose I should say.”

“You seem to have limped here yourself,” Roy replied, with a confidence Maes could tell he didn’t feel. “It appears your wounds aren’t regenerating.”

Bradley smiled, and it scared Maes more than the angry look he’d worn just moments prior. “I thought we made a deal.”

The words sent Maes back to that day with Scar in the rain, the day that had started everything. Somewhat hysterically, he wondered if his best friend would ever stop making deals with people who wanted to kill him.

Still, Maes’ rage threatened to eclipse his panic. Several homunculi had helped to fake Roy’s death, but only one of them had come to his funeral. Bradley had looked Maes in the eye and offered his condolences. And even after Maes had discovered the truth about the Fuhrer, Bradley had kept Roy a secret, though he could have easily used him as an additional bargaining chip.

“Do you even realize just how many ways I could get to you?”

Bradley had asked that, back when Maes had struck up his own deal with the devil. Maes felt the truth of it more keenly than ever, now, with Roy standing next to him.

“You’ve hardly held up your end,” Roy said. “Our deal was void when you started going after the people I care about.”

“Always so adamant that you’d do anything for your loved ones.” Bradley sounded almost bored. “Knowing you, I thought that when someone dear to you was bleeding before your eyes, you wouldn’t hesitate to turn to the taboo.” He looked pointedly at Hawkeye. “I suppose I stand corrected in regards to what you consider… sufficient motivation.”

Was that a threat? Maes tensed and tightened his hold on the Lieutenant, but Roy acted first— he positioned himself in front of them both.

In a panic, Maes seized Roy’s arm with his free hand. “What are you doing?” he hissed, fear clawing at the inside of his chest. “Stay behind me.” He didn’t want Roy and Bradley anywhere near each other.

Roy didn’t turn around, didn’t take his eyes off the Fuhrer to look at Maes. “She’s injured.”

“So are you.” But Roy ignored him. Typical.

“If you were always planning to try and make me perform human transmutation this way, then you have no right to bring up our deal,” he said. Maes wanted to scream.

“If I thought you would refuse, we would have made other attempts at ensuring your cooperation,” Bradley said. “You humans are usually such predictable, pathetic creatures. It infuriates me when you don’t act the way I think you will.”

Out of the corner of Maes’ eye, he saw Mei flinch. Scar turned to look at her, concerned, but Maes kept his attention on the threat.

“What’s wrong?” Scar asked. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides.

“He’s right under us,” Mei said, fear plain in every word. “Deep down.”

The doctor was shouting again, struggling in Jerso’s hold. Maes still didn’t want to look away from Bradley, but in the end he couldn’t help it.A splatter of blood hit the ground, and a thud echoed throughout the chamber as Jerso and the doctor followed suit.

Maes whirled around, wondering frantically what could have happened. The Lieutenant flinched in his arms, and Roy sucked in a sharp breath behind him.

The shadows emerged first, seeping out from the ceiling. Maes stared at them for several moments before he realized that the shadows were staring back— a half dozen eyes peered out of the darkness, narrowed and bloodshot and red.

A boy appeared out of thin air among the tendrils. Selim Bradley.

Pride.

The shadows seemed to puddle on the floor around the boy, pure inky blackness with a smile of sharp teeth. Pride’s own deceptively young face remained impassive, but his own eyes looked far too old and sinister when he opened them.

Maes hadn’t crossed Selim Bradley’s path since learning the truth, but he remembered the haunted look in Hawkeye’s eyes. Judging by the expression on Roy’s face, he’d encountered Pride before, too. One more thing his best friend had suffered that Maes didn’t know anything about. That he could have prevented.

Roy shifted his gaze warily back toward Bradley. Whatever he saw there scared him enough to put a hand on Maes’ arm. “Protect Riza.”

As soon as Roy said those words, the Fuhrer lunged, a sword in each hand and a look on his face that promised blood.

Roy tried to snap, but his gloves were useless— the swordsmen cut the fabric earlier. Scar started toward Bradley with a hand outstretched, and Maes drew his gun with his free hand. Neither of them were quick enough.

Bradley dodged both attempts, kicked Roy down to the ground, and raised both blades in what seemed like one movement. Riza began thrashing in his arms, but Maes couldn’t move. He could barely breathe. He felt as if he was watching everything happen in slow motion.

The swords came down, and Maes’ heart stuttered. Roy could die here, he thought, in the space of that missed beat. I could lose him again. He stared at the scene in front of him, and for a moment registered nothing but Bradley standing over his best friend on the ground.

When Roy screamed through gritted teeth, Maes came back to himself. In an awful way, the sound was almost a relief. Screaming meant alive.

But when Maes’ body allowed him to process what he was seeing past his shock and fear, any hope he may have held onto withered and died. Bradley had put a blade through each of Roy’s hands and into the floor. Butterfly wings pinned to a board.

“COLONEL!”

Maes winced at the anguished shout, but he didn’t let go even as Riza fought to get free with renewed vigor. He knew, with a certainty that chilled him to his core, that they would kill her if she tried to intervene. The homunculi would kill both of them if they even dared to get close.

But Riza either didn’t realize this or didn’t care. She clawed desperately at his arms, calling to Roy again, more sobs than speech. Maes just held her tighter, his stomach turning.

Knowing he couldn’t do anything but stand by and watch didn’t make doing it any easier. This was his worst nightmare. Roy was being taken from him again. He was powerless to stop it. Again.

Maes’ mind begged him to do something, anything, but he wouldn’t be able to. He had promised Gracia he would stop being reckless with his own life. And he’d promised his best friend this, too.

“Protect her.” He couldn’t protect Roy himself, that much was clear, but couldn’t Maes at least do this?

“Well done, Bradley. I taught you well—”

The doctor had still been smiling when he spoke, but his words were cut off as shadows emerged from his chest and blood from his mouth. Blood everywhere.

Pride lifted the man up slowly. Once positioned above Roy, the shadows dripped down onto the floor and began to form a familiar shape. A transmutation circle. Maes had seen it before.

“I didn’t want to have to resort to this, but you leave me no choice,” Pride said, voice flat. “We’re out of time.”

Riza’s panicked gasp brought tears immediately to his eyes, but he dragged her a few steps backward anyway. “No, no,” she said, still hardly able to catch her breath, “let go of me—”

“You’ll get caught up in it, too!” Mei Chang shouted back. She held her small arm out in front of the chimeras and Scar, as if she could shield them from having to witness what was about to happen.

Maes made some sort of strangled noise, then. He felt it tear out of him, even if he couldn’t quite hear it.

But Roy did, and he looked at him. Their eyes met immediately, Roy’s all but glazed over with pain and Maes’ full of tears, because what if this was the last time he ever—

Roy gave the smallest shake of his head.

The shadows had wrapped themselves around him, allowing Bradley to step back. He could barely move, but Maes saw it.

“Mustang,” Pride said, a sick sort of satisfaction in his voice that was nauseating to hear from a child. “You are the fifth.”

“ROY!”

Roy’s gaze jumped to Riza, an unspeakable sorrow in it.

Bradley smiled. “I wonder what will be taken from you in exchange.”

Crackling blue light filled the room, and Roy screamed as it consumed him, as the shadows around him tore him apart. And Maes stood there, and he held onto Riza, and he watched.

For months, he had been haunted by the what-ifs of Roy’s death. If he had picked up that phone, if he had been there, could he have changed anything? Could he have saved him? Could he at least have said goodbye?

Now, Roy was right there. Only a few steps away from him. And Maes still couldn’t do a goddamn thing.

Scar would not wish the agony of human transmutation on anyone, not even his worst enemy. And, baffling as it was to admit, Mustang had been more ally than enemy in this room, especially considering the other monsters in it.

Now, Mustang was gone. Disintegrated into nothing, exactly like the Fullmetal Alchemist.

Scar was acutely aware that no one who remained in this room stood a chance against the Fuhrer of Amestris apart from himself. The thought put a smile on his face.

He had searched for revenge for a long time. Though he had warned the Elric boy against turning down a dark path, Scar felt no hesitation or unease about what he must do now.

It was true that Scar had found little closure going after state alchemists, but he knew this would be different. In many ways the alchemists in Ishval had been puppets, and here was the man who had pulled the strings. Here was his chance at justice.

Killing the alchemists had felt like justice, for a time, though it had brought him no pleasure. But this? This fight he would enjoy.

Riza screamed.

She clawed at Hughes’ hands, wild and desperate, not caring whether she drew blood with her fingernails. She fought, trying to get to Roy’s side, but the blood loss had made her body sluggish and uncooperative. She screamed at the top of her lungs until her voice broke, and still Maes held her back.

He didn’t say anything, just stood there and watched with silent tears on his face as everything happened. She knew, in the part of her mind that always found a way to be rational even under the worst circumstances, that he had done the right thing.

But that voice in her head was quiet, while all the others screamed.

She had only felt this helpless once in her life before, and this was almost worse. When she’d found out about Roy’s murder, her grief had very nearly consumed her. But she pushed forward through it, and what had at first felt like a knife buried in her chest became a dull ache.

The overwhelming joy at discovering the truth was entirely eclipsed by this, the return of all that pain, seeming as fresh as it was on the very first day.

Her sorrow once again an open wound.

She’d had the love of her life back, actually held him in her arms, only for him to be ripped away from her again. A flash of light, an agonized scream, and Roy Mustang was gone. As if he’d never even returned to her in the first place.

Riza Hawkeye had cursed alchemy under her breath for most of her childhood, but she had never hated it as much as she did now.

Human transmutation.

If she ever did see him again, it would only be after he had something else taken from him. Another limb, perhaps, like Edward, but she wasn’t naive. The gate could take anything it wanted. Alphonse had lost his whole body. Izumi Curtis had lost internal organs. For all Riza knew, Truth would demand Roy’s heart.

The very thought nearly made her sick. He had already lost far too much. They both had.

Roy had grown familiar with pain in the past few months— not that it had ever really been a stranger to him. He’d never felt anything like this before, though.

Every individual atom lit up in agony as the shadows that pinned him in place dug into his skin. He wondered if this was what it felt like to be burned alive.He wondered if he deserved it.

He managed to catch Maes and Riza’s eyes for just a moment before he was blinded by the light of the transmutation. Roy wanted to mentally say goodbye, in case he didn’t survive this. Even with devastation plain on both of their faces, it gave him comfort to know that they had stayed back.

After what could’ve been seconds or hours of nothingness apart from the pain, Roy’s senses returned to him. He could move and breathe again, but the relief he felt was short-lived.

The white space he had found himself in was familiar, too. He recognized it from his dreams.

Roy turned slowly, but he already knew what he would see— Truth. Their face was entirely blank apart from that unsettling, enormous grin that grew wider when Roy faced them.

“I wondered when you would arrive,” they said. “Hello again, Roy Mustang.”

He had tried to convince himself, in the months since confronting Truth in a nightmare, that the whole thing had just been a product of his own subconscious. It made sense, after all. Roy didn’t often have pleasant dreams.

But according to Truth, that had been real. They had met before.

“I know who you are,” Roy had said. “I didn’t commit the taboo.”

“No. You have done nothing that comes with a price. Not yet.”

Roy took a step backwards, blood rushing in his ears. Terrifying as that dream had been, it still paled in comparison to this. Something more powerful than any homunculus stood before him. Something the Elrics had faced as mere children. Knowing them, they’d had more courage then than Roy felt in this moment.

He was on the other side of the gateway, now. This was happening, this was real. And Truth just kept smiling. It reminded him of Envy, which did nothing to slow the frantic beating of his heart.

“See you soon, Roy Mustang,” they had told him.

A cold, sinking sort of dread joined the fear. “You knew,” he whispered, horrified. “You knew.”

“I know everything. I am everything.” Roy remembered the words, but now Truth said nothing as the gate behind them opened up.

The last thing he saw was that haunting smile. Everything went white, and then black.

Edward had tried to prepare for everything. They had a good plan, and he felt confident in it.

But he hadn’t prepared himself for being forced to go through the gateway again, he hadn’t prepared himself for Al not waking up, and he had not, as it turned out, prepared himself for Colonel Mustang appearing out of thin air.

For several seconds, Ed just stared. It must have been Envy, using their favorite trick again, because Roy was dead.

Except Envy was dead, too. Or… he’d thought so, anyhow. He hadn’t exactly stuck around to watch. He couldn’t bear the gloating, or the screams. But Ed had only left Colonel Hughes and the Lieutenant alone with that monster because he’d known that they would kill it, something they were more than capable of. So how was Envy here?

Did that mean the others were hurt?

Pride appeared only seconds later, and Ed gritted his teeth. What did that mean for Alphonse, that the homunculus had escaped? Had the homunculus done something to him, wasthat why his brother wouldn’t wake up?

Focus, he told himself. He couldn’t afford to lose his temper.

“What are you playing at?” he demanded, briefly tearing his eyes away from this person who looked so much like Roy.

They sounded like the Colonel, too— the moment Ed spoke, the imposter tensed. “Fullmetal, is that you?”

The voice was strained, but Ed would still have recognized it anywhere. He resisted the impulse to take a step back.

Pride only smiled, and didn’t look at him. “I brought him to you. He’s our fifth.” This, they said to ‘Father.’

Ed narrowed his eyes. Pride had to be talking about the sacrifices, but that didn’t make any sense. Mustang was gone. Would the homunculi really ‘sacrifice’ someone disguised as the Colonel just to get a reaction? Did anyone besides Envy even have that power?

Thoughts going a mile a minute, Ed just sat and stared as his teacher, Izumi, ran over to help the imposter.

When she touched his arm, though, he jerked backward, and.

And Ed saw that this person’s left leg was missing from well above the knee. His own automail limb ached in sympathy.

“Fullmetal?” the fake whispered again, with a voice that sounded too soft, too broken to be Roy. “Edward?”

This person couldn’t be Roy. He refused to accept what that would mean.

But.

The homunculi had kept Ed alive all this time no matter how much he pushed them, calling him a “sacrifice.” If they’d wanted to use Roy as one, too…

Ed could hardly bear to consider it a possibility for fear of the answer, but now that the gears in his mind had begun turning he couldn’t stop them.

“…Colonel?”

Just the one word, but this stranger who looked so much like Roy Mustang froze. Izumi inched forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, and though he flinched again, he didn’t move away. Ed watched as they exchanged a few soft words, and frowned.

Before he could say anything else, Pride let out a laugh.

“Happy to see him?”

No. “Roy Mustang is dead.” Ed couldn’t let himself be happy, he couldn’t let himself hope. It couldn’t be true. Especially not like this.

If Roy had been alive this entire time, then Ed should have figured out what happened. But if this stranger lying broken on the ground was Roy Mustang, Ed didn’t really want to know.

If Roy was alive, how much had he suffered all this time? What had the homunculi put him through, during the months that Ed had shoved away grief constantly creeping at the edges of his mind? What would they do to him now?

If Roy was alive, Ed didn’t know if he could keep him that way, and he didn’t know if he could survive that loss a second time.

He wanted Roy back. Of course he did. But Ed knew better than anyone that loved ones didn’t return from the grave.

The man frowned, and looked as if he might reply, but Pride spoke again before he could.

“No,” the homunculus said. “We kept him alive long enough for him to go through the gate.”

The gate?

You’re lying, Ed wanted to scream, but the words failed him. Why would the homunculi need to lie about anything? They already had Ed exactly where they wanted. They had their sacrifices.

Every other alchemist in the room had performed human transmutation. Considering the cost, Ed couldn’t imagine many more people than the ones here had done it. If ‘Father’ needed a certain number of alchemists who had committed the taboo… well. The homunculi had already shown on plenty occasions what lengths they’d go to for their plan.

He’s our fifth, Pride had said.

Could it really be so impossible?

As much as Ed wanted to believe that Roy was alive, the idea of Roy having performed human transmutation was as horrifying as it was infuriating. But how he could he ignore Pride’s words, when the evidence stared him in the face?

His left leg. Ed had paid the exact same toll himself, at eleven years old. It was just the sort of sick joke Truth would have enjoyed.

Roy— could he really be here —looked pained.“Edward, it’s me.”

That was all he needed to hear. Ed moved so quickly that his feet skidded across the floor, but he didn’t care. He was kneeling at Roy’s side in the space of his next breath, and he immediately grabbed one of the Colonel’s hands in both of his own, needing a physical anchor.

Roy inhaled sharply. “Fullmetal?” he asked again, sounding unbearably unsure of himself, and Ed’s eyes stung as he squeezed the fingers intertwined with his own. “You’re really here?”

Ed huffed. “That’s my line.”

No sooner had he spoken than Roy nearly tackled him to the ground in a hug. Sort of new for them, but by no means unwelcome. Ed went to return the embrace, then froze.

Though reluctant, he pulled back to look at his hands. “You’re bleeding,” he said, stunned. “Where…?”

Both of the Colonel’s gloves were soaked with red, and for a moment Ed could do nothing but stare at them. Blood. It was all over Ed’s hands now, too.

He’d nearly bled out himself, when he lost his leg.

Edward immediately shrugged out of his coat, trying hard to breathe through his panic. “Your leg.” He pushed Roy back a little, gently, so he could see how bad it was. “We have to put pressure on it, otherwise—”

He stopped short when he pushed the Colonel’s pant leg out of the way, when he caught sight of the bandages. No fresh blood to be seen, only scar tissue that peaked out from the edge of the cloth.

Ed blinked, utterly uncomprehending. “I don’t… how is it already healed?” There was a sinking feeling in his chest. “What—”

But he couldn’t finish the question. What happened to you? Ed was less certain than before that he wanted to know.

Roy only frowned. “My leg? How can you tell that it’s healed?”

Well, Ed knew a thing or two about what to expect after losing a limb. “I don’t understand,” he continued. “If Truth took your leg as their toll, it would still be injured. This looks… old.” He supposed Truth could have healed it, though?

“Never mind that,” Roy said, which was just perfect. “Fullmetal, are you all right? I don’t know how you can see my condition, it’s pitch—”

Now, Roy was the one who cut himself off. Realization dawned on his face, but it didn’t make Ed feel better at all. He still felt totally in the dark.

“Edward,” Roy began, his voice just barely shaking, “can you see me?”

The question did absolutely nothing for Ed’s confusion. Or his fear. “Of course?” He hadn’t meant for the words to come out of a question. “Less limbs than you had the last time I saw you, but that’s sort of what happens when you perform human transmutation. I’ll have to take you to see Winry.” As angry as Ed wanted to be, he couldn’t manage it. He couldn’t resist the dig, but Roy had lost of a piece of himself, going through the gateway. Ed knew how that felt, and how desperate Roy must have felt to get to that point.

Fleetingly, he wondered if the Lieutenant and Colonel Hughes were okay, but he couldn’t really worry about that now.

Colonel Mustang, alive. To hell with lost pieces— Ed never imagined he’d get to have this again, that he’d get Roy back at all. That he’d be able to correct their last conversation. What did he even say?

How do you say “I’m so glad you’re alive” and “we’re both probably going to die here” and “I’m furious with you” and “I’m sorry for everything” and “I missed you so much I thought it might kill me” all in one breath?

“Edward, Truth didn’t take my leg,” Roy told him, with a grimace that said he was resigned to what he was about to say, but still didn’t want Ed to have to hear it. “I lost that… a long time ago.”

All of Ed’s thoughts ground to an abrupt, screeching halt. “What.”

“I didn’t lose my leg going through the gate,” Roy said, as if the clarification helped Edward at all. “I lost it… before.”

“Elaborate.”

Roy hesitated, and then simply said, “Envy.”

Ed felt something in him just… snap. His fingernails dug into the palms of his hand hard enough to draw blood. “Envy,” he echoed, his voice even by some miracle. “They’re the one that shot you. And then they did this?”

“I… tried to escape. They weren’t pleased.”

The rush of anger Ed felt then left him speechless, and he sucked in a sharp inhale. He had left Envy at the mercy of Lieutenant Hawkeye and Colonel Hughes, but if he ever came face to face with them again… Ed felt sure he wouldn’t have been so noble. Roy had tried to escape, to come back to them, and Envy had—

“Edward.” Roy reached out, fumbling for a moment before his his hand landed on Ed’s shoulder. “Envy is dead.”

Which meant Hawkeye and Hughes had taken care of them after all, which meant that Roy had reunited with them both. As glad as Edward was for both of these facts, he could hardly focus on either.

Ed’s anger receded just as quickly as it had rushed in, replaced by dread and fear in equal measure. His head had begun putting pieces together while he watched Roy blindly reach for him, and he didn’t much care for the resulting picture.

Roy’s eyes were grayer than Ed remembered them, and entirely unfocused. He hadn’t met Ed’s gaze properly, not once. It had only taken Ed this long to notice because he was still working through the shock of finding the Colonel alive.

“Fullmetal, is that you?” Roy had asked. “Edward, can you see me?”

“You can’t see anything,” Ed said, voice hollow. Suddenly, Roy asking if he was real made much more sense and was all the more devastating for it. “Truth took your eyesight.”

Roy grimaced. “It would seem so.”

Ed, in an abrupt return to the status quo even though they were so far from it, wasn’t sure whether he wanted to hug Mustang or hit him.

He certainly didn’t know what to say. What could he say? When he thought Truth had taken Roy’s leg he’d been horrified, but it was at least familiar territory. Ed had already resolved to take Roy to Resembool in his head and help him through the process of getting automail. But this?

Edward didn’t know how to fix this.

“Why the hell would you go through the gate?” Ed demanded, finally. He couldn’t hold the question in anymore, furious both for Roy and at him. “You knew what would happen, you saw what happened to me, and you knew it wouldn’t work. You could’ve died, and you knew better. Why—”

“You have every right to be angry at me,” Roy said. He hadn’t taken his hand off of Ed’s shoulder, and Ed hadn’t shaken it off, either. “They nearly killed Riza, and I would’ve done anything they asked me to. I would have, but… I didn’t.”

“What are you—”

“I didn’t perform human transmutation. They forced me through the gate.”

Forced him through?

Ed felt as if his understanding of the world around him shattered in that moment all over again. He felt the blood drain from his face. Was… was that even possible?

“Yes, we sent him through.”

He whirled around to look at Pride again, who was standing beside the thing the homunculi called ‘Father.’ Both were watching the exchange with a smile.

“So you can’t see, can you?” Pride asked, and Roy flinched. “That works out well. Your alchemy would have been troublesome to deal with, but now? The famous Colonel Mustang powerless in a fight.”

“The truth is cruel.” ‘Father’ smiled, eerily similar to Truth in his current form. The unnatural, wide grin was even more unnerving with the eyes staring out from all sides than on Truth’s blank face. “For those that tempted fate and sought their mother’s warmth by bringing the dead back to life, one lost the leg upon which he stood and the only family he had left. The other lost his entire body and lives as an empty suit of armor, feeling no warmth at all. The one who sought to bring her child back can never again have children.” Ed glanced at his teacher, who had rested a comforting hand on Roy’s back. He still hadn’t let go himself. “Roy Mustang, you have always looked tirelessly towards the future. And lately, the one thing you wanted was to see your loved ones again. So Truth blinded you.”

These words seemed to rattle Roy more than anything else, and Ed could tell that he was only just beginning to absorb the reality of what losing his eyesight would mean. He sucked in a sharp breath and lifted a hand to his face, fingertips pressed into the bags under his eyes.

“Truth gives you the despair you deserve to keep you from thinking you can be gods yourselves,” Father continued. “And that is what you humans choose to worship.”

Ed had heard enough. “Deserve?”

Everyone in the room turned toward him, even Roy, who looked devastatingly unmoored when Ed drew away from him. He had to, though— if Ed had stayed there, the other would have felt how badly he was shaking.

The way his automail rattled as Ed clenched his fists probably gave it away regardless, though.

“I might understand if he’d gone through on his own, like we did,” Ed began, even the whisper of his voice sounding harsh in the otherwise silent room. He had to take a heavy breath in before he continued. “But to… to force someone who didn’t do human transmutation through the gate, and take his eyesight?” Ed stood on shaking feet “You call that deserved?”

Father was still smiling, but no one spoke, and that just made Edward even angrier.

“I don’t accept your version of the Truth,” he spat. “He didn’t deserve it! He didn’t fucking deserve any of it!” Ed’s voice had risen to a scream, but he didn’t care. “How about I show you what you deserve, you—”

He cut himself off as he felt a small tug on his arm.

Roy had caught Edward’s sleeve, after evidently reaching out in the direction of his voice. Ed could see where all the blood came from, now— deep cuts had been driven into both of his hands. The uncertain look in Roy’s eyes was so wrong on his face, someone Ed had always known to be sure and steady.

Even more frightening than the realization that Roy had lost his sight was how… how clearly haunted he seemed. To Edward, Roy Mustang was not someone who would be daunted in the face of a threat like this.

In that moment, Ed was forced to reckon with the fact that the physical losses Roy had suffered might not be the worst of it. And he had no way of knowing what other damage had been done, not concretely. He could only guess at what living in near isolation with only the homunculi for company would do to a person. The idea of Roy being trapped in that hell for months while no one knew…

Ed hated the homunculi, he hated their ‘Father,’ and he hated himself for it, too. For not knowing that Roy had needed him. For not knowing what he needed now.

Well, Roy Mustang had given the Elrics a reason to keep going after they went through the gateway. He’d been their rock. Surely Edward could return the favor now.

I won’t let anything happen to you, he wanted to say, as he took Roy’s hand again. We’ll be okay. But Edward wouldn’t make a promise that he didn’t know if he could keep.

“I’m here,” Ed told him, voice soft. “I’m right here with you.”

For now, that would have to be enough.

Alphonse stared into his own eyes, golden in a gaunt face that had lost all familiarity, and felt nothing but dread. This— his body, whole and within arm’s reach —was everything he’d wanted for so long, and he might not have another chance to return to it. Why, then, did he hesitate?

It would kill him to turn this down, the outstretched hand, the weak smile. But Al knew it would kill him if he took it, too. If he entered back into the fray he would be a burden, relying on everyone else to keep him alive. He still didn’t know what else they were up against, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to help in the emaciated body before him.

Al didn’t recognize himself like this, so much older, so much more frail. This body seemed barely able to stand as it rose to its feet— Al couldn’t afford to lose his ability to fight.

But could he really afford to say no?

He took several shaky steps forward before he could control himself, desperate to reach back for that pale, extended hand. That’s me, he thought, that’s my body. Al was closer than he had ever been to getting it back, and it still somehow felt impossibly far away.

When his own face smiled at him, Al collapsed to his knees.

“I’ve been waiting a long time,” his body said, and took a deep breath. Al could’ve sworn he felt the air in his lungs, too. “Welcome home.”

Al seized the fragile arm before his body could come any closer. Before he lost his nerve. “You’re skin and bones,” he said, almost a whisper. “It’s all you can do to stand up, isn’t it?” It avoided Al’s gaze, but he didn’t need a confirmation when he was supporting most of its weight. “I… I can’t… I can’t fight in a body like this!”

They were both shaking, and Al’s voice had risen to a scream. He couldn’t help it. What a cruel joke, to be offered everything he wanted when he knew he couldn’t accept it without dooming himself and the people he cared about.

“Everyone else is fighting!” Al had to fight with them, he had to protect them, he had to help his brother, he’d sworn he wouldn’t let anyone else die.

And didn’t that thought just put a stop to all the rest of them. Thinking of death just made Al think of Roy. They’d sort of been inextricable from each other in his head now, for a while.

Except.

“I can assure you that Roy Mustang is very much alive. Though he might not be by the day’s end.”

Except Roy Mustang was alive, and had been all this time. Al tried very hard to find it comforting, but how could knowing do anything but introduce more fear? Yes, the Colonel was alive, but nobody else even knew and Roy was in trouble but Al didn’t know where he was and—

“You don’t want to become one with me?”

Al let go, even though he thought it might kill him, and buried his head in his hands. “That’s not it at all.” He did want that, of course he wanted that, but even more than that he wanted to keep everyone safe. “I’ve wanted my body back for a long, long time.” Since the moment he lost it, really. “Some days it’s all I can think about. But I can’t go with you, not right now. That body isn’t going to cut it.”

“You want to go back there, in that body?” Al said nothing, but he supposed his lack of a reply was answer enough. “If you do, I won’t stop you.”

The gates opened up behind it to reveal an enormous, all too familiar grey eye. Al watched as small, shadowed hands emerged and reached for his body, which turned its face away.

Al missed being able to feel, to taste, to breathe, but in that moment he didn’t envy it. He had been navigating the world as a soul without a body for years, but existing as a body with no soul might very well have been worse.

Before Al could second guess himself, he ran past his body and into the open gate. It didn’t scare him, this time— he knew it would bring him back, and he embraced it.

He did turn to look over his shoulder, though, and met those mournful golden eyes. “I’m sorry, but I’ll be back!” he told his body, and he meant it. “Just hang in there a little longer! I swear I’ll be back! I promise!”

The gates shut.

The first thing Alphonse saw when he jolted awake was the worried face of Mei Chang. Which… didn’t make a whole lot of sense, but he wasn’t complaining.

Al was glad to see her, but the rest of his surroundings— a cavernous, dark room —didn’t give him much comfort. He sat up, trying to regain his composure.

Mei gasped before he could say anything and beamed. “You’re awake!”

“Al!” His brother appeared at his side, too, panic clear in his expression. “Are you okay?! What happened?”

For just a moment, Al found himself at a loss. He hadn’t be able to properly talk to his older brother in months. After the fight with Pride, they’d been separated by a wall. He’d missed him so, so much. There were several things Al wanted to say, but one took priority over everything else.

Al hated to tell his brother something that he knew would hurt him, but he’d hate keeping it from him more. Ed needed to know. So his hesitation only lasted for that single moment.

“That doesn’t matter right now,” Al said, and it didn’t. He’d wanted his body back for years, and it didn’t matter half as much to him as finding and saving Roy Mustang. “I have to tell you something.”

This only made Ed look more concerned, but Al barreled on before his brother could speak, determined to get the words out.

“Colonel Mustang is alive,” Al told him, all in one breath. “He’s alive, and he’s in trouble. Kimblee told me— he’s the one who released Pride. We have to find him.”

Ed’s eyes widened, but otherwise Al couldn’t read much from the look on his face. He said nothing, just stared.

“I swear it’s the truth,” Al continued, desperate for his brother to believe him. “And he’s in danger, we have to—”

Ed placed a hand on his shoulder. “Al, it’s okay, calm down.”

Now Al was the one rendered speechless. Whatever response he had expected, this was far from it. “How can you say it’s—”

“I already know,” Ed told him. He seemed to try for a smile, but it wound up looking more like a grimace. “I just found out. Roy’s here.”

Here?

For the first time, Al noticed the other people in the room. He saw Pride and some other homunculus standing nearby, but he admittedly spent next to no time assessing the threat because of what he saw next.

His teacher, Izumi Curtis, was approaching slowly with a disheveled Roy Mustang in tow.

Al had spared no small amount of thought in the last couple hours wondering what he would say to him. He had spent a lot of time in the past several months wondering the same thing, even though he’d thought he’d never get the chance.

Every preconceived word flew from his mind. Mustang was limping, Al’s teacher half carrying him, because his left leg was just gone. Even more terrifying than that, however, was the haunted and almost vacant look in his eyes.

Al just watched him approach in horror.

“Alphonse,” Mustang said, and he sounded almost as terrible as he looked. “Are you alright?”

“Am I—?” Al all but choked on the words. “What did they do to you?”

He had a sinking feeling he already knew the answer to the question, though, as Kimblee’s words from earlier started ringing in his head.

Sacrifices. All of them.

Al understood the sullen look that he’d seen his own face wear on the other side of the gate all the better, now. He could only hope that the reverse transmutation circle worked, but even if it did, he had no guarantee that he would be able to make good on his promise to return. He had no guarantee he would live to see tomorrow.

The many-eyed thing looming next to Pride grinned, and Al recognized its voice as the one who called himself ‘Father’ when he spoke.

“That makes five.”

In the darkness and chaos that followed, voices were the only thing to keep Roy grounded. But even as he hung onto every word that the Elrics spoke at his side, he couldn’t gauge how much danger they were truly in without his sight.

He could feel the tension in the air, though. Taste it almost. Roy needed to help, to fight, but how could he? Truth had left him completely useless. Losing another limb would’ve been preferable to this— at least then he could’ve used his alchemy. Doing so when he couldn’t aim would be a death sentence for everyone in this room… not that whatever the homunculi had in store for them sounded much better.

Still, hearing the voices of Edward and Alphonse after so long apart while unable to see them was a new form of torture, especially because his mind had been conditioned to believe everything a trick. Rationally, he knew Envy was dead, but after months in a cell the marks they’d left on Roy’s mind remained.Even friendly voices made him flinch. All his other senses felt heightened, including a searing pain whenever he moved his hands from Bradley pinning him to the ground. Roy was thoroughly disoriented, not to mention how rattled everything he’d seen behind the gate left him.

“You might think you’ve won because you’ve got all of your ‘sacrifices’ together,” Edward was saying, somewhere to Roy’s left, “but we aren’t going to be so easily used.”

The arm around his waist tightened. “Hold on to me,” Izumi Curtis whispered in his ear. She had quietly identified herself when she first crouched beside him, perhaps guessing the loss of his sight sooner than Edward had. “We’re getting out of here.”

“No, you can’t get away. You are already inside my belly.” Blind or not, Roy could hear the smile in the thing’s voice.

He could do nothing but stand there and listen as the one voice he didn’t recognize— the young girl named Mei —vowed to take on the immortal ‘Father,’ leaving Pride to Edward and Alphonse. The idea of any of them fighting while he couldn’t made Roy feel sick with dread, but he knew the Elrics would hold their own better than he could right now. Not that he liked it.

Ed didn’t seem very fond of this plan, either, but then he hesitated. “If you can use such a strong-arm move, why haven’t you done it before now?”

Roy was wondering the same thing. He’d been the homunculi’s prisoner for months. If they needed him to go through the gate and they had the power to force him, why wait?

He already knew the answer, he realized.

“Fullmetal,” Roy started, and was proud when his voice only shook a little. “When I was caught up in the transmutation, he said that he didn’t want to resort to this method. That I’d left them no choice.”

“So it carries some sort of high risk for them?” Ed asked.The trust in his voice surprised Roy. They’d been separated for so long, but still Edward had so much faith in him. Roy had struggled to believe he deserved it before everything, and he certainly didn’t feel like he did now. If any of them got hurt while Roy stood on the sidelines…

“Probably,” Roy told him. “Be careful.”

“Teacher, stay with the Colonel,” Ed said, instead of answering him. “Let’s give it a shot.” And Roy listened as the fight began.

Maes Hughes thought he might be the worst friend in the world. Roy was gone, and Riza would hate him for this forever. He was certain of it, because he hated himself, too.

How many hours had Maes spent swearing he should’ve done more when he first lost Roy? How many times had he wished for a second chance at saving him?

“You won’t lose me,” Roy had assured him earlier, when Maes pleaded with him to stay out of danger. And like an idiot, Maes had believed him.

They had no way of knowing what had happened to Roy other than what Bradley said when Riza demanded answers— “Relax. Right about now, Mustang is with our father. I can’t vouch for his physical integrity, though.”

The mutilated form of the doctor that Pride had drawn into the ritual didn’t paint a comforting picture. He’d practically dragged Riza out of that room and left Bradley to Scar, but he still saw the aftermath of the transmutation every time he closed his eyes. Maes wouldn’t be able to get that image or Roy’s scream out of his head until he found him again.

But for the time being, it seemed that all they could do was wait.

Without alchemy, none of them would be able to get past this— the writhing mass of darkness that blocked off the level below them. Even Riza knew it. Maes was still half-carrying her, and she’d gone completely limp and quiet in his hold.

He wanted to say something to comfort her, but what could he say? Roy will be okay. We’ll get him back. Empty words, and Riza was no fool. She would’ve been able to hear how little he believed them. Saying it out loud wouldn’t even succeed to assure himself.

He just needed Roy, and Maes had let him slip through his fingers all over again.

But he’d asked one of the chimeras to bring Roy’s crutches with them. “Roy needs them,” he’d said, and received a pitying look in return. After Bradley’s words, no one was very optimistic about the state they’d find the Flame Alchemist in.

Roy had gone through the gate, and so he must’ve been forced to pay a toll. Maes knew that, but none of them knew what that toll was, and so if there was even a chance that Roy might need them…

Had it only been hours ago that he’d gotten his best friend back? Maes felt like he’d aged years. “Please don’t ever do that again. You scared the hell out of me.”

“As if you could get rid of me that easily,” Roy had said, with that familiar crooked smile.

Maes refused to believe that Roy might be gone without proof. He’d made that mistake before.

Edward actually felt good about his and Al’s odds against Pride for all of ten seconds. The homunculus seemed to be slipping— Ed had seen him try to cover up the way his skin flaked away after bringing Mustang through.

And it was clear in the first few seconds of fighting too, when he immediately went on the defensive, even going so far as to back away. The transmutation had weakened Pride. Maybe he and Al could actually subdue him, and eliminating even one threat would make a world of difference.

Of course, the second Ed started to feel the slightest bit optimistic he heard the scream.

Al whirled around immediately. “Mei!”

Ed wasn’t an idiot, okay? He knew how his brother felt about her. Sure, he hadn’t seen Al in what felt like forever, but he’d suspected back when they first met her. This just confirmed it.

“Damn it,” he muttered, but his mind was already made up. “Al, go help Mei.”

Al clearly wanted to, but he still hesitated to leave Ed alone. “What about Pride?”

“I can handle him myself,” Ed told him. Besides, he might not have known her as well, but he didn’t want to see Mei get hurt either. He charged forward again without waiting for an answer, deflecting blows with his automail arm.

Pride was clearly pulling his punches, and Ed had a feeling he knew why. “What’s the matter? Your attacks are pretty lackluster today.”

The homunculus scowled. “Don’t mistake my caution for weakness. Until you have fulfilled your purpose—”

“You have to keep me alive, huh?” Ed had heard it from Envy and Lust before. They had to keep him alive because they needed him for something. The idea had scared Edward even back when all he really had to go on was that word— ‘sacrifice.’ But now? “I’ll just have to defeat you before that happens, then.”

Now, Ed wasn’t just worried for himself. To know the homunculi had something sinister in store for him and Al was one thing, but now they were right in the middle of it. And this ‘Father’ had dragged other people Ed cared about into this mess, too.

Hohenheim, who Ed might not always have agreed with, but he was family. He’d been absorbed by that thing, and Ed just hoped he wasn’t hurt.

And the others were family, too, in every way that mattered.

Their teacher, who had shown them everything they knew about alchemy. Who had taken two children under her wing and hardly asked for anything in return. She was still hovering by Roy’s side, though she looked eager to join the fight.

And Colonel Mustang. Roy, who had helped them both find a purpose again when they were ready to give up. He was standing there with a hand over his unfocused eyes, as if there might be damage there he could feel or fix.Ed owed him a lot. Anew place to call home, a generous paycheck, and enough freedom to search for the answers they so desperately needed. Ed had no idea what his life would look like if he’d never become a State Alchemist.

He did know what his life looked like without Roy in it, though. He’d lived that life for months, and he wasn’t interested in doing it again.

The homunculi had called all of them sacrifices, too. And Ed would rather Pride kill him right now than see any of them hurt.

“Defeat us? Please. You have little experience fighting those smaller than you,” Pride said. “Always used to being the underdog, aren’t you, Fullmetal Alchemist?”

The idea that Pride would be the underdog in any situation was laughable, even if the homunculus existed in the form of a child. Before Ed could say as much, shadows surged upwards to pin him in place as if proving his point. He could feel several places where they had grazed his skin, but Pride had carefully avoided dealing any serious injuries.

Ed managed to wrench himself free and ran forward again. “You’re right,” he admitted. “I’m used to fighting opponents who are bigger than me. Which is why I know the attack patterns a kid like you will have!” And he headbutted him.

Pride clearly didn’t expect it. Ed had only attacked with his automail and alchemy so far, and the homunculus jerked back in surprise, slapping a hand over the side of his face when more skin began to flake away.

For a moment, Ed let himself feel triumphant. But he was so focused on Pride that he didn’t notice Father until his arm was seized out of midair in the midst of trying to land another blow.

He glanced over his shoulder just in time to see another shadowy tendril reaching for him and wrapping around his stomach. Panic rushed in— as Ed was dragged across the floor and slammed into the ground, he thought Truth’s hands pulling him into the gate.

The homunculi’s Father had grabbed every other so-called sacrifice as well. Despite the fact that they’d clearly also put up a fight, only Ed managed to shove himself onto his knees. The others were pinned to the ground.

Father stood in the center of all of them, a wide smile on his face as he tilted his head up towards the sky and the enormous eye that looked down on all of them. Ed’s fists clenched.

“No more playing around. It’s time for you to go to work for me, my sacrifices,” he said, and paused as if he saw something none of the rest of them could. Finally, he spread his arms wide. “The time has come… have you ever thought of the planet as a life form? Or perhaps I should say a system, rather than a life form. A system that can retain a vast amount of information about the universe, incomparable to the amount of information a single human has. Once one opens that gateway, how much power would they gain? Have you ever thought about that?”

Ed had not, in fact, thought about that, but he couldn’t help the sharp inhale that escaped him as he realized exactly what this monster was about to do. Exactly what ‘sacrifice’ meant.

Father’s voice, when he spoke next, seemed to fill the entire room. “I am going to open that gateway.”

“So that’s where the center is, then?”

Out of seemingly nowhere, something cleaved through Father’s form. It happened so quickly that Ed didn’t process anything until the dark substance that made up ‘Father’ had dissolved into a puddle on the floor. And standing where he had previously stood was—

“Greed!” Ed cried, hope igniting a flame in his chest. He wanted to call out to Ling, too, but he could tell just by looking at him that Greed was the one in control.

“The center of the world is mine!”

Yeah, definitely Greed.

“He got him,” Ed whispered, trying his hardest to feel relieved. He watched the dark ichor slink across the floor, watched its many eyes narrow as if in irritation and then shut. It couldn’t possibly be that easy, and Ed knew that, but he also knew firsthand how strong Greed was. The homunculus grinned, and for a moment Ed thought… maybe…

“I guessed you might be coming, my son Greed.”

Just as quickly as they closed, the many eyes opened again. This time Father’s smile stretched across the entire floor. Greed stood directly in the center of it, clearly unsettled. “You are the avarice that was born of me, after all. Anything that I want you are doomed to want as well.”

A split second pause. A moment of uncertainty where Greed looked to Edward.

Ed had time to meet his gaze, but not a moment longer— Father reformed already in motion and dragged all five of his precious sacrifices away over the rough ground. He crashed into his makeshift throne like a wave, finally setting Hohenheim free in the process.

“Ed!” Greed called, or maybe it was Ling, but he couldn’t afford to think about it right now. Pride had stayed to keep his fellow homunculus at bay.

When they came to a stop, Roy’s head cracked against the stone floor. Ed was terrified as things stood, but being dragged across the ground when he couldn’t even see where he was going must’ve been even worse. He’d never seen the Colonel look so scared and disoriented. Ed watched a thin trickle of blood form at Roy’s hairline, and he seethed.

He longed to shout some word of comfort, but what he could he say in this situation that wouldn’t be a lie? Ed couldn’t promise that they’d get out of this, and he didn’t know if Roy would have been able to hear him over Father’s unsettling laughter, anyway.

“THE CENTER OF THE WORLD… IS HERE!”

Father slapped a hand down onto a page of his notes, and the entire room immediately filled with crackling red lightning.

“NO!” Hohenheim screamed the word, and Ed turned toward him just in time to see a single grey eye open up in his torso. Like Gluttony, like the gateway, like the very ceiling above their heads.

It happened to each of them, one by one, and when Ed looked down at his stomach he felt as though he might be sick. There it was. The unforgiving eye of Truth.

A circle of light surrounded Father. Ed knew he was screaming, but he couldn’t stop himself as he watched familiar hands— hands that had once dragged him through the gate —emerge from the portal within him. They reached for Father, who did nothing but continue to smile and laugh as they drew nearer and nearer.

“Yes!” he called, and Ed struggled again to move backwards, but it was all he could do to just stay conscious. “Fight each other, gateways! Repel each other! With this power, I will open up the gateway of this planet!”

Ed could feel it, the energy building up all around them, the nationwide transmutation circle finally going into effect. His hair stood on end and he felt nearly consumed by fear, it overwhelmed him. He swore he could hear people all over Amestris screaming and calling for help, and Ed didn’t know whether it was all in his head or the opening gateway was somehow showing him all of it.

Either way he knew for a fact that Father was subjecting everyone to the same desperate, suffocating horror that Ed had experienced when he first performed human transmutation. The horror he felt right now.

Blinded by the red light, Ed could no longer make much sense of what was happening, but he could still hear Father’s voice, rising in volume and seeming to stretch over all of them. Just another thing keeping him trapped.

“GOD! Respond to the cry of my soul! Come to me! Come to me! I will continue to be bound by you no longer! I shall drag you down to the Earth and make you a part of me!”

Hm.

The last thing Ed remembered thinking before he finally fell unconscious was that he couldn’t imagine Truth liking that idea very much.

When everything finally stopped, it took Al some time to regain his senses. The room was filled with dust, and for several moments he could hear nothing but a faint ringing.

He looked down and found that whatever portal the homunculi’s ‘Father’ had opened up through him was gone. For the others, too— everyone was shakily getting to their feet.

Everyone except the Colonel.

Seeing his leg again made Al want to cry. Maybe he would already be crying, if he could. It reminded him of… well, of things he’d rather not remember. Of waking up in a suit of armor and finding his brother’s blood all over the floor.

Al had barely begun to process the fact that he’d seen his body. Touched it. But he’d been ready, when he came out of the gate, to shove it out of his mind. To focus on stopping the homunculi.

But then he’d woken up and found Roy Mustang alive. Even though Kimblee had told him before… to actually see him was something else entirely.

“Is everyone alright?” Roy asked, because of course he was worried about everyone else. “What happened?” His voice bordered on frantic, and Al realized with a sinking feeling that Roy asked because he had no other way of knowing.

Truth had taken his sight. Al had barely processed that, either, but he had to believe they could fix it later. As for right now, Mustang looked lost, and Al couldn’t stand it. He rushed over.

When Al grabbed his arm, though, Roy flinched.

“It’s me,” Al said quickly. “It’s just me, it’s Alphonse.” He helped Roy up, supporting almost all of his weight.

“Well done, my sacrifices.”

For the first time, Al turned to look at the homunculi’s Father, and he immediately found himself taking a step back. He still resembled their dad a little bit too much for Al’s liking, but now he appeared much younger. Healthier, stronger, as if he’d been reborn.

Al felt Roy tense, and took a step back. He wanted nothing more than to shield the Colonel, to keep anything bad from happening to him ever again. But this was still the Promised Day.

Hohenheim moved to stand between Father and the rest of them, and Al wasn’t sure whether he liked that either. “You actually did it.” His eyes were wide and angry.

“Yes, I have acquired God.” The way Father said it… he sounded almost bored. As if all of this were inevitable. As if he was always going to win.

Al despised him.

“You can’t have,” Ed insisted, but he didn’t sound certain.

“It’s possible, given a large enough amount of energy,” Hohenheim admitted. And Al exchanged a look with his brother. They both came to the same conclusion at the same time, and Al knew it because he saw the look of horror on Edward’s face.

“You can’t,” he repeated. “A philosopher’s stone?”

They’d known about the enormous transmutation circle for ages, and Ed had even recognized it as the one used for creating philosopher’s stones back in Briggs.They knew the circle was dangerous, nut never in a million years had Al thought… the entire country and everyone in it…

“How many people?” Al demanded, trying to stay calm. He had to believe that the counter-circle could still work, but it wasn’t meant to counter this. He had to have faith in Scar, in Mei and her alkahestry, but it was still unthinkable. “How many people?”

The ideal plan, going into today, had still been to try and stop the circle from being activated at all. And they’d failed. Al tried desperately to have faith, but how could he not panic in the face of what Father had just done?

For several moments, no one spoke. Roy’s voice was horrified when he finally broke the silence. “The population of Amestris is about fifty million.” Pure fact, blunt and clinical, but Al could plainly see fear in the Colonel’s expression.

Mei gasped, and Al felt a tiny, selfish burst of relief that she’d come down here with them, and not stayed up there to… to…

Guilt eclipsed the feeling immediately after. So many people he cared about were still up there, lives now hanging in the balance. Everyone’s fate was in their hands, now.

“You bastard,” Ed hissed, and clapped his hands together. Father, looking bored, tapped a single finger on his throne. A wave of energy shoved them all several steps backward, and Al immediately knew what was wrong. Just as his brother did. “Damn!”

“Your alchemy is bound, sacrifices,” Father said, and Al really couldn’t stand that he kept calling them that. He didn’t have long to stay angry, though— a ball of flame appeared in Father’s hand.

Hohenheim seemed to be the only one not stunned to silence. “What are you doing?”

“Now that I have obtained God, it is even possible for me to create suns in the palm of my hand,” Father told them. Hohenheim set his jaw and returned to his feet, prompting Al to do the same. “Shall I turn it loose in here?”

Suddenly, his eyes widened. A pulse of energy. Judging by the way Pride tensed, he felt it, too. And so did Al. Any alchemist still breathing would have felt it.

“From the moment you sacrificed us, we had already started to turn the tables on you,” Hohenheim said, and another pulse followed his words. “Over the years I have calculated everything, arranged the philosopher’s stones of the friends inside me in preparation for this day.” Pulse.

“You just drove in philosopher’s stones?” Father asked, incredulous. “They are nothing more than points. Without a circle to connect them, they will not activate. That is a fundamental of alchemy.”

“But we do have a circle,” Hohenheim said, and Al was only barely beginning to understand. Had his dad planned something else? Had he somehow predicted the extent of what the homunculi would do? “A circle with such enormous power it would activate on its own even if something were to happen to me! The shadow of the moon, cast upon the earth by the eclipse!”

Father placed a hand to his chest. A vein in his forehead looked as if it might burst, but his voice remained calm when he spoke. “You would block me no matter what, Hohenheim?”

“That is the reason I came here, dwarf in the flask,” he replied. “That, and for my sons.”

Al stared, first at Hohenheim and then at the homunculi’s ‘Father’ as he coughed. Red light had filled the room once again.

Then, with a bloodcurdling scream, the monster who had just absorbed Truth opened his mouth. More souls than Al could have possibly counted billowed out.

Gracia knew something was wrong the moment she startled awake.

Well, she’d known something was wrong for far longer than that, really. Her husband had told her as much as he deemed safe, and so she knew that a lot was at stake today. Yes, perhaps she hadn’t realized quite how much until she saw the plumes of smoke rising in the distance, but she was no fool.

And even if Maes hadn’t told her anything, something still would’ve felt off about the eclipse. The moment the moon moved in front of the sun a sudden chill went down her spine, and she found herself pulling Elicia back from the window.

Elicia started to protest, but choked on air, her small hands instinctively reaching out for help. Gracia reached for her daughter, too, but she suddenly couldn’t breathe, either.

This, she thought, this is why Maes wanted us to leave.

As afraid as Gracia was, she couldn’t let herself show it, because her daughter’s young eyes were also full of fear. So she folded Elicia up in her arms and held her close as they both ran out of air, whispering calming words with whatever strength she had left.

Gracia, truthfully, hadn’t expected to wake up again, after that. But when she did, she knew something was wrong.

Not the way she had when all the trains shut down, not the way she had when she’d seen the fights breaking out in the city, no. The sense of wrongness came from her body, this time. Maes had called today the ‘Promised Day,’ but what Gracia felt now didn’t relate that at all.

Except for the fact that maybe what had just happened set it in motion. After all, she wasn’t supposed to be due for a couple more weeks.

But Gracia had done this before, she knew what it felt like.

She allowed herself one brief moment of denial. Maes had been by her side last time, and she didn’t particularly want to face this alone. Well… not alone, she supposed, but she didn’t want to scare her three year old daughter, either.

But apparently, the baby didn’t much care for what Gracia wanted. Her water had just broke. She was giving birth today.

“Elicia, could you please help me over to the phone?” she said, far more calm than she felt. “You’re about to become a big sister.”

Chapter Text

If Scar died right here and now, it would be worth it as long as he took Bradley out with him.

“It might be interesting,” the Fuhrer of Amestris had said, “if we fellow nameless kill each other.”

Scar had stared at the man in front of him, the face of the country he had cursed for years. The country he was now trying to save.

He’d destroyed the ground beneath their feet to help the others get below, and he just kept destroying and reconstructing new obstacles in Bradley’s way. Normally this wouldn’t have slowed the Fuhrer down at all, but he was wounded. Unbalanced. Just minutes ago Scar had been devoting all of his attention to avoiding Bradley’s swords, and every attack took him just a little bit longer.

This was the best shot that Scar would ever have at killing him.

But it would still take everything he had. Bradley’s attacks grew sloppier, but that also made him less predictable.And he just kept coming, yelling about how by using alchemy he was abandoning his god. Scar didn’t see it that way, not anymore—he was holding onto a piece of his brother.

Bradley clocked Scar in the head with the butt of his sword, a solid hit. “I’m sure that at some point during the Ishavalan civil war—” and to even hear it called war instead of what it was still made Scar seethe, but he had long since stopped letting that anger control him “—when you were steeped in despair, you must have thought somewhere in your heart… that there was no god in this world at all.”

Scar couldn’t dispute this without lying, but he didn’t have to.In the following split second the sun shifted, the eclipse beginning to end. A ray of light reached down as if guided by a purposeful hand, and blinded the Fuhrer’s one good eye.

A chance.

Scar lunged forward without wasting a second. He pressed a hand to Bradley’s skull, activating his destructive alchemy immediately. The homunculus screamed, though Scar could not tell whether it was more from pain or rage. Blood was thick in the air around them—he’d managed to sever both of Bradley’s arms above the elbow. Foolishly, Scar thought this would make him less of a threat.

Before he could register much more than the fact that Bradley had caught his damaged sword in his teeth, the blade stabbed deep into Scar’s stomach.

He wrenched himself backwards on unsteady feet, and Bradley stood there, drenched in sweat and blood and shaking. The leader of Amestris toppled backwards, and Scar collapsed only a heartbeat after he hit the ground.

For a moment, they both just lay there. For a moment, they were both still breathing.

Scar stared up at the patch of sky that had just acted as his saving grace deliriously. He didn’t know whether what he felt now could be called relief, exactly, but it was close. Much closer than he’d gotten going after state alchemists.

Bradley laughed. He, too, was looking up at the heavens. “I never believed in fate, or God,” he said, “but I suppose it can be said of this that providence has taken no favor of me.”

Scar was no favorite of the universe, either. He almost pointed this out, when they were joined by an unexpected third party.

He didn’t know her name, the Xingese guard that walked through the door, but she was fleetingly familiar. Even more so when he saw that her face was twisted with hatred—Scar recognized himself in it. And it reminded him of Edward, too. The look on the Fullmetal Alchemist’s face when he spoke about that homunculus, Envy.

Scar had debated telling him the truth, then. He knew they might all very well hate him for not saying anything. But despite the path he had gone down, despite everything he wished he had done differently, he didn’t regret lying. He didn’t regret keeping his promise to Mustang.

Promises, plural, if you counted their original deal. “Please, just swear to me that you won’t hurt him.” Both Edward and Colonel Mustang had been pulled through the gateway, and Scar could only assume that they’d been taken to the same place. He hoped it would offer some small comfort for whatever awaited them on the other side.

Other battles surely still needed to be fought. They still needed Scar’s help, whether or not they could stand to see him after learning of his deception. The Promised Day, as the others called it, was far from over, and yet he felt spent.

At the very least, Bradley was in the same boat.

“The heavens have sent me a rather dashing visitor,” the Fuhrer said, and the girl’s eyes narrowed with fury. “Here to avenge your grandfather? Very well.”

“Any last words?”

“None.”

Scar sat up to get a better look at them both. The guard held a kunai in her hand, her expression still wary but resolute. Bradley had to die.

And after forcing Roy Mustang through the gate, it was going to happen regardless of whether she or Scar finished him off. He knew firsthand how protective the Flame Alchemist’s people were of him— the only reason they’d even left him to deal with the Fuhrer alone was because the Lieutenant was injured, and because Scar had a better shot with his alchemy.

But they didn’t need alchemy, now. Bradley looked like one more hit would do him in, lying there in a pool of his own blood.

“You’ve lived a sad life, King Bradley,” said Lan Fan. “Was there no one that you loved? Your friends? Your wife? Are you saying you have nothing to say to her? When she finds out—”

“‘Sad’ and ‘love’ are such trivial words,” the Fuhrer interrupted, though a cough choked the words. “Do not mock me, young lady. She is the woman that I chose. There is no need for any last words between us. That is what it means to be the wife of a king.” Lan Fan’s expression shuttered, and Scar could see plainly that the words felt personal, though unrelated to the reasons for her hatred.

Bradley made a sound that, if he were in better shape, might have been a laugh. Before Scar’s eyes, the Fuhrer’s hair began to turn grey, and then white.

“It would seem that while engaging yourself in pointless questions, you’ve missed your chance at vengeance,” Bradley continued. With a pained exhale, he tore his eyes away from Lan Fan and stared up again at the small section of sky above them all. The sun moving out from behind the moon. “My life was lived on the rails laid out for me, but thanks to you humans it was, to some degree, a good life. Certainly one worth living.”

He aged rapidly as he spoke, his voice growing older and older, and the last word was barely more than a whisper. Bradley breathed his last right along with it, and those all-seeing eyes slid shut.

Lan Fan crouched beside the body, but she kept her blade in her hand, and tensed again the moment she drew close. “I’m sensing life,” she warned, and pulled a small vial out of his pocket.

Scar recognized the red liquid inside immediately. “It’s a philosopher’s stone.” Her eyes widened, but speaking had apparently aggravated his injuries, and Scar began to cough.

She was at his side instead in an instant. “Are you all right?”

No, but that didn’t matter. He had a job to do. “Take me over there.”

Lan Fan looked where he had pointed a shaking hand, and her eyebrows drew together. “The transmutation circle is broken.”

Scar tried to move his legs, determined to reach it even if he had to crawl over himself, but only wound up doubling over with a fresh burst of pain. “It doesn’t matter,” he managed, through gritted teeth. “Over there is where the center is.”

She didn’t look thrilled about it, but she helped maneuver him into the center of the circle, then stood a fair distance back. Scar didn’t blame her.

He stared down at his hands, the blood on them, the blood on the floor. The tattoos crawling up his arms, only one of which was his own. He clenched his fists, and thought of his brother. That loss was where everything began and ended, after all. At least for him.

His brother was dead. His hatred lived on. These would always be the fundamental facts of his life, but he still wanted to live.

He wanted to help Amestris, despite it all.

Brother, you spoke always of positive and negative streams. As I paradoxically carry them both, I wonder which way I will flow.

And he activated the circle.

Edward’s alchemy came back with a vengeance, and he felt it immediately.

He grinned at the monster in front of him, this thing the homunculi called ‘Father’ who looked like Ed’s own and thought he could swallow God. The god that Edward had stood toe to toe with at eleven years old.

He could do this, now. He could fight, and with his alchemy restored, he could win. And he started by destroying the thing’s ugly excuse for a throne.

“Take that!” Ed yelled, and even though ‘Father’ just stared impassively back at him, he did enjoy the look on Pride’s face as the homunculus crouched there in the dust. “I’ve reduced the symbol of your arrogance to rubble. Now all that’s left to do is kick your ass, you and Truth.”

Easier said than done, Ed knew, and there would be much more to do even after that, but the words weren’t just bluster. With Al and Izumi standing behind him, Ed felt confident.

And with Roy returned to him? Ed felt like he could do just about anything.

So far, though, the best he could come up with didn’t seem to be having an effect. Every blow Ed aimed at ‘Father’ broke apart in midair, destroyed before they even made contact. And he remained entirely unfazed.

He blocked Al’s attempt, too, and sent a wave of red energy outward that destroyed all the rocks in his path. Hohenheim moved in front of Edward to meet the attack before it could reach them.

“Keep piling it on! Make him use his philosopher’s stone!” Hohenheim yelled. “At some point he’ll run out of energy!”

‘At some point’ didn’t inspire a lot of confidence, as far as Edward was concerned. They couldn’t hold Father back for long. “Like when?!”

“I don’t know, but you have to keep it up!”

Ed narrowly resisted rolling his eyes. Instead, he glanced over at his teacher, who was still hovering by Mustang’s side. Roy seeming so lost disturbed him, but at least Izumi knew how to hold her own.

Her next attack was apparently too powerful for Father to stop outright, so instead he redirected it. The rocks hit some form of machinery instead, and a stone vat of bubbling liquid began to rise from the floor as the gears turned.

Just as suddenly, Greed appeared as if from nowhere— though this had ceased to surprise Edward from any of the homunculi, least of all the one that used to be Ling. Besides, under these circumstances, the surprise was welcome.

Greed was eying the smoldering stone. “That takes me back! If it isn’t the tub I took a bath in earlier,” he said. “You have one too, old man!” He swung a metal beam at Father— Ed had no idea where this came from, either, he just hoped it wasn’t structurally important. But the makeshift weapon broke and smoked at the edges rather than finding purchase, and Greed leaped back.

Ed had a better idea. “MOVE, GREED!” With a clap of his hands, he moved the floor under the vat up to tip it over onto Father and Pride.

Father looked bored with this turn of events, and simply parted the lava in a circle around him. Then, to Edward’s horror, the ground underneath his feet shot upwards like a bullet, lifting him to the surface. Where he could do… so much more damage.

Hohenheim knew it, too, and followed yelling, “He’s going to make a philosopher’s stone!” Greed was right at his heels.

“We have to go after him!” Izumi shouted, and Ed nodded, struck a bit dumb. Everything was happening so fast. She nodded back at him, then turned to Roy. “We’ll… get you somewhere safe while we’re at it.”

“Sorry,” Roy said, sounding equally apologetic and furious with himself. “I didn’t expect to be useless at such a critical time.” He still had a hand raised to hover near his eyes, blood weeping out of a cut in the center.

Ed ached. He opened his mouth, wanting to say… what? He’d spent such a long time wanting a do-over of his last words to Mustang, but even now he couldn’t stop coming up short. He was the useless one, not Roy.

He nearly insisted as much, but then he felt something grip his arm.

“Brother!”

Roy’s unseeing eyes widened immediately at Al’s scream. “What is it? What happened to him?”

“You all go on ahead,” Ed told them, and kept his voice steady. “Pride appears to want something with me.” They needed to stop Father. And his teacher was right— they also needed to get Roy out of here. Preferably as far from the battle as possible, though Ed knew the Colonel wouldn’t allow it.

Even now, he clearly looked distressed at the idea of leaving Edward behind with a homunculus. Despite the obvious worry on his face, though, Roy didn’t disagree.

Ed almost expected it. How many times had he received lectures about staying out of danger? But instead, Mustang just took a deep breath and told him, “Be careful.”

One the one hand, the words made Edward’s eyes sting. On the other, he found it severely hypocritical. “I can’t believe you’re telling me that,” he said, and then locked eyes with Izumi. “Protect him?” The question sounded so small.

“Of course,” she agreed, without hesitation. “Don’t let yourself get beaten, Ed.” And then she, Alphonse, Mei, and Roy were all heading skyward.

Ed turned to face Pride in the shadows.

Between the chaos around her, the blood loss, and the panic that had clawed at the inside of her rib cage from the moment Roy was ripped from her side, Riza was having a bit of trouble focusing.

Unlike her, yes, but she felt quite certain these counted as extenuating circumstances.

And then—Roy. Miraculously returned to her, again.

Tunnel vision. Everything, everyone else around Riza faded to white noise. In that moment, nothing mattered half so much as having him in her arms, not even the end of the world.

She jostled herself out of Hughes’ hold, and this time he let her go. “Colonel!” More of an exhale than actual speech, but Roy turned toward her immediately anyway.

“Riza.” He said her name like entire religions could be founded on it. Love worth worshipping. She sank to her knees in front of him. Kept his face in between her hands, but said nothing. His… his eyes.

Izumi clasped Roy’s shoulder tightly, then let go. “We’ve got to keep going up,” she said, and caught Riza’s gaze. “Edward told me to protect him. I trust he’ll be safe with you.”

Riza nodded once, firm, though Izumi didn’t wait for an answer before pressing on. “He’ll be safe with us,” Riza echoed, more for herself than anyone else. A prayer of her own. A plea.

Maes took half a step backward at her words, as if he didn’t really believe it. Not anymore.

Riza could worry about and fix that later. For now, only one thing mattered to her.

“Are you okay?”

She startled a bit, at Roy’s question, because shouldn’t she be asking? Before she could collect her thoughts enough to respond, he seized one of her hands in his own.

“Riza,” and his voice cracked horribly on the word, “I can’t see your condition. There was blood everywhere. Are you okay?”

Maes inhaled sharply behind her, but Riza had guessed it already after looking at Roy’s eyes. She had noticed the change in their color immediately.

But she’d so desperately wanted to be wrong.

“I’m fine,” she told him, though it couldn’t be further from the truth. Tears welled up and spilled over onto her cheeks. “Even after everything, you still refuse to worry about yourself.”

Roy leaned forward and pressed his face into her shoulder. “I thought I’d lose you,” he whispered, just for the two of them to hear.

I did lose you, Riza wanted to scream. You were dead. You were taken from me. And they’ve taken so much from you.

Roy pulled back again before she could voice any of it, though, and turned his vacant gaze behind her. “Hughes?”

He didn’t need to say anything else. Hearing Roy call for him seemed to finally break Maes out of his stupor, at least enough for him to approach. “Right here,” he said, but didn’t make a move to touch Roy. Devastation was all over his face.

Though Roy couldn’t see the expression, his brows furrowed. “And you’re safe, too?”

“As safe as I can be,” Maes told him, “but you’re hurt.”

To Riza, ‘hurt’ seemed like a severe understatement, but she understood it. They couldn’t talk about everything that had happened to Roy in more detail, right now. She couldn’t bear to, herself.

Her Colonel just shook his head. “I’m fine. My hands will heal.” Maes hadn’t been talking about his hands, though they were still covered in blood, and all three of them knew it. “What… what about everyone else? Havoc, Fuery, Breda, Falman? They weren’t in the tunnels, are they also fighting?”

Riza exchanged a look with Maes. “They’re all helping,” she settled on, finally. “Just not here. If we’d known you were…”

“I just wanted to make sure they were all right, too,” Roy said, and got a wistful look in his vacant eyes. “I would have liked to see them before… well. I guess it doesn’t matter now.”

Riza just stared at him, rendered speechless with her horror. The reality of what Roy had lost was only beginning to sink in for her, and it seemed for him as well. After being confined is those dark, cold, comfortless halls for months, Roy must have desperately longed for a friendly face. Especially after seeing so many false ones from Envy—a thought that still made Riza’s blood boil.

And the homunculi had trapped him in darkness all over again.

Maes placed a hand on Roy’s shoulder and squeezed, but someone else broke the silence.

“Well Mustang,” Olivier Armstrong drawled from behind them, “your stubbornness transcends even the grave, it seems. Coming back from the dead doesn’t entitle you to the top spot, so don’t get any ideas.”

Roy jumped at the sound of her voice, but then his lips twitched upwards in what was almost a smile. “General?”

“You may not have your team with you, but there are plenty of good men here who are ready to fight,” Olivier continued. She too, shockingly, had the beginnings of a smile on her face. “As long as you’re here, you may as well pull your weight.”

Riza opened her mouth in indignation, a protest on her lips, but paused when she saw the look on Roy’s face. It seemed this small return to normalcy was exactly what he needed to ground him.

He turned back to Riza, and covered her hands with his own. “I can still fight, if you can,” he whispered. “If you’ll be my eyes.”

Of course she would. He didn’t even have to ask, but since he had? “Always.”

Maes had failed his best friend, his brother, twice now. For some reason, he had been awarded a second chance each time. The universe had returned Roy to him, though far from in one piece.

He could hardly stand his own powerlessness. Maes felt as if Roy might disappear if he touched him. Then, once he got past that and made his feet move, he put a hand on Roy’s shoulder and feared the same would happen if he ever let go.

Roy turned towards Maes, though his gaze remained vacant. No recognition in those eyes whatsoever. He really couldn’t see him. He couldn’t see anything.

“I’m sorry,” Roy began, with a grimace, “I—”

“Don’t say that,” Maes cut him off completely, feeling ill. “Please don’t say that. I thought I told you, don’t apologize. Not to me, not now, probably not ever. I don’t ever want to hear you say ‘sorry’ again.” Or maybe he did, because Roy had always taken on more than his fair share of guilt, and at least offering unnecessary apologies meant Roy was still alive to offer them. At any rate, “None of this is your fault. I’m the one who should—”

“Hughes,” Roy said, with an almost unbearable earnestness, “none of this is your fault, either.”

A sob tore out of Maes’ throat before he could stop it, and he wrapped Roy up in a hug. It still didn’t feel like enough. How could he let Roy go back into the fight? Maesclearly couldn’t protect him.

Roy pressed his face into Maes’ shoulder, the fabric there already turning wet.

Over his head, Maes met Riza’s eyes. She shot him a very pointed look, then stood and pulled Olivier Armstrong aside, beginning to explain.

“If you won’t accept a sorry, maybe you’ll accept a thank you.” The words were muffled into the fabric of Maes’ jacket. He shook his head, but even if Roy could feel the motion he kept talking. “I know it can’t have been easy to hold Riza back, or to stay back yourself for that matter, and I have to thank you for it. Thank you for keeping both of you alive. If I had been sent through the gate only to find one of you gone in the aftermath… I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost either of you.”

Maes held him tighter. “I know.”

“Then you understand why I wanted to—”

“No, I mean. I know,” Maes said. His voice thick, throat tight. “I know exactly what it feels like to lose you. I can’t go through that again.”

That was the crux of it, wasn’t it? Maes lost his best friend, and he mourned him, and now Roy was back, but Maes still had an intimate understanding of that grief. And their lives were dangerous at the best of times, and it was the Promised Day, and Maes found himself staring down the barrel of that feeling again, and… he couldn’t. He couldn’t do it, because he knew that it would destroy him. Because it already had.

Roy pulled back a little bit, expression faintly confused. As if, after all this time, he still couldn’t comprehend that people cared about him this much. Enough to burn the world to ash.

“I know you have to fight,” Maes said. “I’d try and talk you out of it if I thought there was half a chance of you listening to me. As it is, I’ll ask for one thing.” He took a deep breath. “Just stay alive. We can deal with everything else later, after we’ve won, but only if you’re still breathing. Promise me.”

Roy’s eyes looked familiar to Maes again, in that moment. Alight with resolve. “I promise.”

When Ed finally headed up to the surface, the tension from his fight with Pride bled out of his shoulders the moment he saw Roy.

Mustang was kneeling on the ground, and Hughes was right beside him with his hands on his shoulders. Just a few paces away, still within arm’s reach of her Colonel, stood Lieutenant Hawkeye. She seemed to be filling General Armstrong in on what had happened to Roy, judging from their hushed tones and the way Hawkeye kept glancing over. Or maybe she just didn’t want to take her eyes off of him.

Edward could hardly blame her. He hadn’t been prepared for the jolt of anxiety he felt when Mustang was out of his sight, even if he wouldn’t have wanted the Colonel anywhere near Pride.

The fight with the homunculus left Ed feeling disquieted, to say the least, but seeing Roy reunited with the others soothed some of that lingering anxiety.

Some, but not all. They still had a lot of work to do. And even more unsettling than Pride was the surprise appearance of Kimblee among those souls… and the parting words he offered with a wave.

“Give my regards to Mustang, won’t you? I so enjoyed our last chat, it’s a shame I didn’t get to give him a proper goodbye.”

Ed most certainly would not be passing that message along. The smugness in Kimblee’s voice alone had made his blood boil, let alone the actual words. Taunting about a ‘proper goodbye’ when Kimblee knew very well that Ed himself had spent months grieving without one.

Looking at Mustang now, Edward didn’t want to shatter the small moment of peace he’d managed to find with Hughes in the midst of all this chaos. If that meant taking Kimblee’s parting words to his own grave, then so be it.

Then again, chances were that Ed would die within the next several hours, so maybe he wouldn’t have to hold onto Kimblee’s disturbing message past today.

Always a silver lining somewhere. Usually, Al had to point them out to him.

At the moment, however, Al was preoccupied. And Ed should be right there with him, so rather than stop to speak to Mustang again, he continued on his way up.

No sooner had he reached the surface than all hell broke loose.

Ed scarcely had a moment to process the horrific scene in front of him— soldiers gasping for breath, lost souls reaching for his brother and Hohenheim, a smile creeping across Father’s face —before he was blinded by white light.

Roy had anticipated needing to convince Riza and Hughes that he could still fight— and thankfully they knew him well enough to know he would do it whether they were convinced or not —but he couldn’t fathom why a complete stranger would object.

The platform they were on stopped rising as one of the chimeras spoke to someone joining their party, and he recognized the voice somewhat. This person had also tried to stop the homunculi’s Father earlier.

Roy had hardly been able to listen to everything everyone was saying then, and he didn’t much care to listen now as long as whoever it was would help. He tuned in, though, when they began ordering everyone around.

“Leave everyone who can no longer fight behind,” the stranger began. “That means you, crutches, the frog, and the two women. You’re all injured, right?”

“‘Crutches?’” Roy echoed, almost too mystified to be insulted.

“Don’t be absurd,” said General Armstrong, who clearly was insulted. Roy hadn’t even known she was injured. “If I don’t lead our forces, who will?”

“Who cares? Get off, now. This is no time to be talking about who’s in charge!”

“And yet you’re giving all of us orders,” Roy pointed out, then turned to Hughes. “Who am I even speaking to?”

“The homunculus Greed.” Roy’s face must have done something, because he quickly continued. “Don’t worry, he’s on our side. He’s friends with Edward.”

“Of course he is,” Roy said. As if that statement didn’t give him more cause to worry. He turned back to the voice. “Well, I’m afraid I’m not going anywhere.” Riza squeezed his hand, clearly she shared the sentiment.

So did Olivier. “If Mustang is going up there with only one working leg, I’m damn well going up there even with only one working arm.”

Roy considered this. “Is the injured arm the one you use to wield a sword? Because then—”

“Mustang, even if you’re an invalid now, I still won’t hesitate to punch you in the face.”

“I would expect nothing less,” he said, “but it seems we’re both invalids, at present.”

“You—”

“Sir! Transmission from headquarters.”

As she presumably went to listen, Hughes muttered, “It’s comforting to know you still have your talent for pissing people off.” He spoke low enough that only the two of them could hear. Roy grinned. The smile disappeared from his face rather quickly, though, as they all heard someone speak on the other end of the line.

“Sir, half of Central Command… has been blown away.”

“What?!” The Major sounded, understandably, stunned.

“We can’t make contact with the northern gate,” the voice continued.

Greed’s voice was somber when he spoke. “That’s the power he has.” It didn’t surprise him as much as the rest of them, clearly.

“What sort of monster is he?” asked Major Armstrong.

“By all appearances, he is an ordinary man,” said the homunculus. “However, he has a several-thousand-person sized philosopher’s stone inside of him, and with that energy, he has taken in what he calls the power of God. You alchemists understand the kind of trouble that is, right?”

Truth, Roy’s mind supplied, and he shuddered just thinking about it. Just remembering the things he had seen beyond the gate. The last things he would ever see. Yes, he understood.

And he didn’t have to look at Armstrong to know that he did, too. “A philosopher’s stone...”

“You can stay.” Greed didn’t let them stand frozen in shock for long. “And you’re also an alchemist, right, crutches? You can stay, too, if you must. But you regular humans, get off here.”

Hughes didn’t entertain this for a second. “Not a chance in hell.”

Riza squeezed Roy’s hand again. “We’re not leaving his side.”

“And I’m not leaving, either,” Olivier snapped. “My men are still fighting up above. I’m their commanding officer.” She sounded like she was prepared to say more, but someone interrupted her before she could.

“Sir, headquarters wishes to speak with you.”

Roy listened as she walked over toward the phone, a small frown on his face. He turned his head slightly towards Riza so that he could whisper to her. “How badly is the General injured?”

“Worse than me,” she told him, and Roy’s frown deepened. “And with an arm out of commission… she shouldn’t go up there. I think the General knows that, too, but to sit out when her men are still fighting? She’s warring with herself.”

Roy didn’t need his vision intact to see that.

Thankfully, whatever Olivier Armstrong heard on the other line apparently convinced her, even if she didn’t sound happy about it when she shoved the radio into her brother’s chest, insisting he take it with him. And insisting that he won.

“General Armstrong!” Roy called, as he heard her step off the platform. He also heard her stop.

“What now, Mustang?”

He didn’t know what possessed him to do it. Maybe being “dead” for so long had left him wary of loose ends, just in case of a repeat performance.

“If everything goes to hell up there, someone decent needs to stay alive to seize control of whatever mess is left over,” he said. “And I do think you’d make an excellent Fuhrer.”

Roy was greeted with nothing but stunned silence, which normally wouldn’t bother him, but he found he enjoyed leaving people dumbfounded a lot less when he couldn’t enjoy the looks on their faces. He supposed he’d have to get used to it.

Well, for now, Roy just did what he always did when left at a loss for what to do next. He turned to Riza. “Let’s go, Lieutenant!”

This false confidence once again prompted Greed. “Even if you’re an alchemist, you’re an injured one,” he pointed out, as if Roy could possibly be unaware of this. “And one of your humans is injured, too. Should you all really—?”

“My humans?” Roy echoed, beyond amused. He mourned his inability to see whatever expressions Riza and Hughes were making, but just imagining it was enough to put a smile back on his face. “Hardly. If anything, they keep me on a leash.”

“Just see if I don’t, after this,” Hughes muttered. Riza coughed, the precise noise she made when she was neatly disguising a laugh.

“Alchemists really are the dogs of the military, huh?” Greed said, somewhat absentmindedly. Roy still froze. That particular epithet… when Greed spoke again, he heard another homunculus’ voice in his head. “I don’t remember asking for your input, Mustang. Speak when spoken to, like a good little dog of the military.”

Roy blinked, hard, but it didn’t do much to help ground him. The obtrusive darkness was so similar to that of the cell he’d been kept in, and just like in that room, he could hear Envy’s voice. And his head filled with static.

“ I like my pets obedient. It’d be such a shame if we went to all this trouble just to have to put you down, wouldn’t it?

Envy was supposed to be dead, Roy had seen it with his own eyes. But he didn’t have his eyes anymore, and how many times had the homunculus fooled him before? What if Envy was just mimicking the voices of the people he loved again?

“Roy?”

Someone touched his shoulder, someone who sounded like Hughes, and Roy flinched backwards. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t breathe. What if he had never actually escaped? What if he never would?

He heard Envy again, over the ringing in his ears. “Good boy.”

The hands were back. “Roy, hey, you need to breathe—”

“Don’t touch me.” Roy jerked away, the words were barely more than a gasp. Maes had been one of Envy’s favorite disguises. “Don’t—”

He cut himself off as he stumbled. Roy’s foot brushed the edge of the platform, which caused several panicked shouts, but Roy couldn’t distinguish one voice from another, couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything. More hands were on him, righting him, and he still couldn’t get his breathing under control. His lungs hurt, and he felt as if he might faint or fall entirely apart.

“What the hell’s going—”

“Move, give him space—”

Roy sunk to the ground and dug his fingers into it, needing something real. Something to stop feeling removed from his body. Sounds drifted in and out of his ears, and though Roy caught a few words he may as well have been underwater.

“I know that cards are a formality—”

The only thing he could properly hear was Envy’s voice, even though they sounded like a friend. It still echoed in his mind, refusing to be drowned out.

“And I know letters aren’t actually gifts, either, but—”

The unending darkness seemed to Roy like walls closing in on him. His lungs constricted further, too, and he wondered if he would pass out. Wondered if that would be better or worse. He… didn’t have very pleasant dreams, these days.

“I suppose anyone who tries to be friends with you will always be outdone. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. Maybe I should—”

Finally, something reached Roy’s ears that gave him pause. The voice was familiar, and while he couldn’t convince his mind that meant safety anymore, the words themselves were familiar, too. But why did he know them?

“Because your company can cheer me up even at the worst of times. You’ve always been able to get me to laugh, regardless of the situation, and I’m extremely thankful for it. I don’t know how you—”

This… these were his words. It felt like a lifetime ago, but Roy remembered writing them down. In a letter to Hughes.

“For instance, at the hospital, when you called me your brother.” Maes’ voice was thick. “You said you loved me. I love you too, you insufferable idiot, but I just couldn’t say it. So, I’m saying it now, in the hopes that you won’t mention this letter at all the next time you see me. Maybe I won’t even end up giving this to you. Who knows.”

The faint rustling of paper. Roy had seen the letter himself, mere hours ago.

“ Do you want me to read it word for word? Because I’ve kept this with me every day since I found it.”

“I don’t know why I feel—”

“Hughes?”

A long, shuddering exhale, and then his best friend spoke again. “Are you back with me?”

Roy wasn’t sure. “Envy...”

But he couldn’t bring himself to explain, to finish the sentence. He didn’t have the strength to talk or think about the homunculus right now, let alone the time.

As if to prove him right, Greed cleared his throat. “Are you sure you’re—”

“I’m fine,” Roy snapped, even though he knew no one would believe it. And how could he blame them, really, after that display?

“For God’s sake, Roy—”

“I’m fine,” he said again, as if repeating it enough times could make it true. He was, for the first time, glad he’d been blinded. It meant he didn’t have to see the look on Maes’ face. Riza, too. Her silence was almost worse than the other’s anger. Instead of concentrating on either, he turned toward where Greed’s voice was coming from. “We already told you, we’re all going up there.”

“And what are you going to do?” the homunculus asked, with thinly veiled disbelief. You can’t walk, you can’t see. How can you possibly fight? Greed didn’t say the words, but Roy heard them.

No matter. Roy knew what he was good for. What made him useful as a soldier, as a sacrifice.

“I’m going to burn up his philosopher’s stone,” he said. “I just need their eyes to do it.”

“If everything goes to hell up there, someone decent needs to stay alive to seize control of whatever mess is left over. And I do think you’d make an excellent Fuhrer.”

Olivier knew the shock on her face must be apparent to everyone but Mustang himself. She had no idea what to say. So she absorbed the words silently, made momentary eye contact with Lieutenant Hawkeye, and then walked away from the stone platform that would take everyone else to the surface. To the rest of the fight.

If she waited a moment longer, she wouldn’t be able to convince herself to stay back.

Instead, she found herself walking over to Bradley’s body. The remains of the Fuhrer. The man who seemed so insurmountable had already begun to wither before her eyes. Greying hair, flaking skin, and a pool of blood.

Olivier had known it could be done, but the sight before her still took time to believe. She almost didn’t notice the footsteps, because Bradley might spring back up if she dared to turn her head.

“So, this is where you died,” she said to the corpse, and then without glancing behind her, “and you’re the one that did it?”

Scar, as she knew he was called, was also covered in blood. Evidence of a victory hard won, which meant he had earned Olivier’s respect. “He was already mortally wounded when he came here,” the Ishvalan said. “If he hadn’t been, our fight would have been… a close call.”

Looked pretty close already, Olivier thought, but didn’t comment on it. Scar would live, she would personally ensure it. Instead of responding to him, she refocused her attention on the corpse.

“Well, what do you say Bradley?” she asked, and found the silence more satisfying than any reply he would’ve given if he still had breath to do so. “My men are strong, aren’t they?” Because she knew who had inflicted that first mortal wound.

Her men were strong, and they’d proven that far before the Promised Day. The average General in Central didn’t have half the resolve of any soldier in Briggs. She missed being surrounded by that, by people she could trust rather than a pit of vipers.

Bradley, for all his allies here, had died alone. Olivier didn’t pity him, and even if he were a less evil man she would feel the same, but she didn’t envy him, either.

Staring at the Fuhrer’s body, Olivier realized for perhaps the first time that she didn’t want any part of this for herself. Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown, and all that. Maybe she was fit for it, but she didn’t want to claim the top spot.

She thought of Mustang’s words, and the look in Lieutenant Hawkeye’s eyes when he said them, and realized something else. Maybe she knew who should.

Though Scar had a lot he should discuss with Roy Mustang, he couldn’t bring himself to say anything when he returned after his brush with Truth.

Maybe because of the vitriol in the eyes of Mustang’s Lieutenant, maybe because Mustang’s own eyes were vacant, Scar had kept quiet. The Flame Alchemist had no idea he’d even been standing there.

So much the better. Especially once Mustang began to break down, it became clear to Scar that his assistance was neither required nor wanted.

Worst case, if he had decided to speak, he could have triggered another flashback. Scar was no stranger to them himself. He had tried to kill the man once, and clearly Mustang already couldn’t tell friend from foe. Best case, that Lieutenant Colonel Hughes punched Scar in the face. He had no illusions that Mustang’s people would ever look favorably upon him, even if an olive branch were well received by Roy himself.

But he needed to extend the olive branch at some point, of this Scar was certain. Not here, not now— Scar wasn’t faring much better than Mustang himself —but when the time was right. When he could actually be of assistance. He would go to see Mustang, and he knew what he would do.

Scar had nearly asked for the philosopher’s stone from Lan Fan, and only stayed his hand because he knew Doctor Marcoh still had one in his possession.

He couldn’t be sure, but… perhaps it could restore Mustang’s eyesight. Or even his leg. Scar would never in a million years have guessed that he’d feel like he owed the Hero of Ishval something, but after not helping him to escape… after not saying anything for months, he had to at least try.

Maybe ‘owed’ wasn’t quite right. For the most part, he just wanted to. Mustang wanted to make amends in Amestris, and after everything he’d already been through, Scar thought he might actually manage it. Why not give him a better shot at doing so? At molding this country into something better?

After all, there would be no better time to do it than after today. If they all made it out alive.

Which reminded him— Scar needed to get his injuries tended to, or none of his other conflicting thoughts would even matter. He couldn’t continue to fight, as much as he wished to, which meant putting his faith in the hands of alchemists. Something he still wasn’t quite used to, even though he didn’t regret choosing it.

His brother would have chosen the same, if he were still here.

When Ed came to, he kept his eyes squeezed shut. He needed a moment to catalogue and process the pain. He could already tell his automail arm was damaged, which meant he’d earned himself a scolding from Winry.

Well, at this point, he’d earned himself several. Ed didn’t care, as long as he got to see her again.

Trying to twitch the fingers of that hand proved successful, though, so at least he wasn’t out of commission yet. Not far from it, though— his arms could barely support his weight as he shoved himself upright. But when he opened his eyes, how much everything hurt immediately faded from his mind, because Izumi was on the ground only a few feet away from him. And she wasn’t moving.

“Teacher!” Ed, still unable to stand, crawled over to her. Her head wound looked even worse up close. “Teacher!”

He feared the worst when she didn’t react, but then she opened her eyes. “I’m alive,” she managed to get out, and thank hell for that. Ed didn’t know what he would’ve done if… if. “Your dad protected me, right in time.”

“My…?”

Admittedly, Ed still didn’t really associate the word with Hohenheim. Still, when he turned his head, of course that was who he saw. His father, with his arms outstretched to protect them both, his back to the danger.

“Hohenheim!” He had absorbed some of hit, clearly— the destruction was much worse to either side of him. His eyes were shut. His skin had begun to flake slightly at the edges, and Ed’s stomach turned at the sight. Because he knew what that meant. He had just seen it happen to Pride. “Hey, stay with me. Hey!”

Hohenheim didn’t react, not to Edward’s screams, and not when the homunculus tossed him aside like he was nothing. Ed turned his gaze to the glowing red eyes of ‘Father,’ and felt the futility descending on him. This monster wore no expression on his face, a face that resembled Hohenheim so much, and therefore resembled himself so much. It disturbed him to see the apathy there.

“I’ll start with you two,” the homunculus said, and with another crackle of red light all of Edward’s senses dissolved into pain.

He clutched his throat, choking on a sudden lack of air. He could hear his teacher coughing beside him as she also struggled to breathe, and though Ed wanted to help her he couldn’t think past his own agony. Ed’s throat was already raw, but he couldn’t tell whether or not it came from screaming. He could hardly hear anything over the ringing in his ears. Hohenheim yelled something, he thought, but he couldn’t be sure of what.

Then, abruptly, Ed heard a gunshot. It made everything stop. He could move and think and breathe again, and as he gasped for air he turned to look at the Briggs soldier who had fired. He only allowed himself a second of watching more Briggs men rush forward, setting up rifles and explosives, and then he made himself stand.

Ed knew the homunculi’s Father wouldn’t stay down long, and in fact the hole in the side of his head already seemed to be repairing itself. He needed to get his teacher out of here. So, he helped her up, and together they rushed toward Hohenheim.

“Come on, come on,” Ed found himself whispering, and only held on tighter when she made a noise of pain. She wouldn’t die here, and neither would Hohenheim, and everything would be fine. If they could just get through today.

Not long after they began running he heard Father stand, and Edward risked a glance backward. His face was no longer blank, but he didn’t look threatened by the attack. He looked, Ed noted with mounting horror, as if he had just discovered a piece of gum stuck to his shoe. Mildly inconvenienced at best, even as the Briggs men fired their rockets.

The explosions made Edward stumble and nearly fall, but he knew they wouldn’t even slow the homunculus down. He told the men carrying Hohenheim as much, but he was barely able to get the words out before another blast of energy crashed into them.

Ed grit his teeth to stifle a scream. Gunfire and more explosions echoed around him, and his panic rose, because none of it would do anything. How the hell were they supposed to get out of this?

And then—

“ Cease fire! Everyone get down!”

Familiar flames licked the air, soaring harmlessly over the heads of the Briggs soldiers as they all hit the ground. Ed knew what he would see even before the smoke cleared, but he followed the homunculus’ narrowed gaze anyway. Father looked more than mildly inconvenienced now.

Roy Mustang, leaning heavily on Hawkeye’s shoulder and one of his crutches but still somehow standing, stood there with his fingers still poised to snap. He had his eyes firmly shut, but his precision remained remarkable even without his sight— the hit blew the homunculus back several paces.

The Lieutenant had a hand on his arm to guide his path, and Hughes positioned himself in front of them both the moment Father turned toward them. Major Armstrong rushed forward to go on the offensive next. Surrounded by people who so clearly adored him, Ed thought the Flame Alchemist had never looked stronger, and he could feel his eyes sting.

As much as he hadn’t wanted Roy in more danger, Ed felt instantly safer with him there. He always did. And he knew they couldn’t win without flame alchemy. They needed him. Ed needed him, and there he was, like he always had been before.

A spark of hope ignited in his chest.

Riza wondered whether she still hated flame alchemy.

Watching Roy use it now brought her nothing but joy. He was without a doubt the bravest person she had ever known. The fact that he found the strength to fight made her admire him impossibly more. Not that she had expected anything less. Of course he could still fight, and watching him do it? She believed he could win.

They would win, together.

“Did I hit him?” Roy asked her. His voice was almost a shout so she could hear it over the flames, and it held an exhilaration she recognized from countless battles fought side by side. She’d missed this. She’d missed him, and now she had him back, and she had to remember to stop looking at him so that she could actually be his eyes.

“Yes, but we were off by just a bit,” she said, as the homunculus regained his footing. He looked a little singed, but was healing already. “Adjust targeting to twelve o’clock!” She moved his arm accordingly.

“I can’t see,” he said, as if she needed a reminder, “so I can’t really throttle the flames. Where are Fullmetal and Alphonse? Are they okay?”

“They’re not in the way, you have a clear shot,” she told him, in lieu of answering his second question. With just a cursory glance in the brothers’ direction, she knew he wouldn’t like the answer. But they wouldn’t be in the line of fire, at least. “You don’t have to throttle the flames at all. Range fifty… no, fifty-three!”

“I have no idea why I’m surprised that you already know how to do this!” Hughes moved back behind Roy as he clapped his hands together, preparing to fire another blast.

“Riza’s always been my eyes,” Roy said. “It’s this clapping transmutation that feels unfamiliar.”

She let out a nearly hysterical laugh. The fact that he could joke after everything that had happened to him, with everything still happening around them… God, she adored him.

Roy’s head turned slightly towards her, as if he wanted to look and only remembered he couldn’t after he’d already moved. “What?”

“I love you,” she said, with it’s nothing on her lips. Because she’d already decided— like hell would she waste any more time lying to him about it. Lying to herself. Neither of them had ever believed anything else, anyhow.

Roy grinned, and snapped his fingers.

‘Father’ was quickly eclipsed by flame, but this time he had prepared for it. He held out his hand, absorbed all the flame into it, and fired it back out.

“Incoming attack, dead ahead!” Riza yelled.

Hughes had already moved as if to tackle them both to the ground, but Roy clapped his hands again before he could and brought a wall up between the three of them and the fire.

Riza smiled, using a hand to shield her eyes. “Nicely done.”

“I take it back,” Roy said, still grinning “This is pretty handy.”

I love you. She very nearly told him again.

Hughes gave her a long-suffering look, no doubt having guessed what she was thinking. “You know I think the world of you both, but would it be too much to ask that you save the flirting for after said world is no longer ending?”

“Hughes, you underestimate my ability to multitask.” The smile hadn’t left Roy’s face yet, and neither had Riza’s own.

How could it, with him next to her? Even if the world was ending?

Alphonse watched as everyone else fought. He couldn’t move, let alone help— exactly what he’d wanted to avoid when he’d left his body behind. He tried to have faith, and when Roy joined the fray it seemed for a moment like they might have the upper hand, but even flame alchemy barely made a dent.

At least he had been able to protect Mei. If he’d done that after getting his body back, the homunculi’s Father would have killed them both with his first attack. But Al couldn’t bear to sit on the sidelines, not when everyone else was giving the fight their all.

Major Armstrong had moved away from Roy’s group to attack from another angle. Their teacher, though she looked to have sustained a head injury, wasn’t letting up with her alchemy either. She formed a wall around Father with only one opening, into which Roy sent his fire. The chimeras and the soldiers from Briggs hurled every attack they had, and Al could see Lan Fan flitting among them, hurling her kunai. And of course Ed was there, too, in the center of it all.

Al knew everyone had to be exhausted already, running on adrenaline more than anything else. They couldn’t go on like this forever, but their enemy remained unfazed and unaffected through it all.

“How futile,” Father said, and his voice carried though he hadn’t bothered to raise it. “You humans cannot lay a finger on me.”

“If humans can’t, how about a homunculus?”

Al startled as a familiar face appeared out of the smoke. Ling— no, Greed landed heavily on his father’s shoulders, and punched him the face with a feral grin. His arm sunk in elbow deep.

The two struggled, each trying to absorb the other, and frankly Al couldn’t tell from this distance which of them was succeeding. At the very least, with Greed there, Father couldn’t block hits as effectively. But who stood a chance at defeating him if even another homunculus couldn’t do it?

“Greed!”

With the lack of barrier apparent to everyone, Ed wasted no time before he rushed forward. The others followed, but Father fielded each attempted blow one by one. He put up walls in each alchemist’s path and pushed all of them backwards with another blast of energy when that didn’t work. Al watched as the force of it destroyed Ed’s automail arm.

That didn’t stop his brother, though. Nothing could.

“Don’t give up!” Ed shouted, but Al knew continuing to attack would only get him injured again. Unable to use alchemy with an arm out of commission, Ed aimed a kick at Father’s head.

The homunculus blocked it with an arm rather than his own alchemy, and in that moment, Al realized. Who, he had wondered, if not Greed? The answer stared him in the face.

His brother could do it. Al knew he could. It had to be Ed.

“He’s at his breaking point!” Hohenheim was screaming— he knew it, too. “He can’t keep God or whatever it is under his control anymore!”

It was the truth. The homunculi’s Father had started to emit black smoke. He put his hands over his face and screamed at the sky. Al could see the unforgiving grey eye of the gateway staring out of his open mouth, and he thought it’ll be over soon. The pressure would surely destroy him.

Father collapsed to his hands and knees, and when he hit the earth it shattered.

The resulting blast was like nothing they had seen so far, and it was all Al could do to shield Mei from the worst of it again. When the dust from the upheaval cleared, his armor was even more broken than before, and everyone else had been thrown off their feet. Tossed away like dolls the homunculus had grown tired of playing with. None of them would survive another hit like that.

Father looked like he might not, either. He breathed heavily as he stood, the only one still capable of doing so, and his eyes seemed to bug out of his head as he looked around him. “Stone!” he called out, his voice grating and warped, and at first Al didn’t understand what he meant. “Stone!Philosopher’s stone!” Then, he stopped moving. His gaze latched onto something.

Edward.

Al’s brother, his arm pinned in place by rebar that jutted out from a piece of rubble. He looked livid, but when the homunculus took a stumbling step towards him, Al could see fear beginning to eclipse the fury in Ed’s eyes. His own horror seemed to consume him.

Hohenheim screamed, voice desperate. “GET OUT OF THERE, EDWARD!”

“Brother! RUN!” Al yelled, even though he knew it was no use. Ed couldn’t move, but he tried anyway, and blood gushed from his arm. His expression twisted with pain.

Al struggled forward, willing his armor to cooperate, but it was too badly damaged. He could hear it breaking further as clawed his way forward, and he kept trying anyway, but Father would make it there long before he would. “STOP!” Al cried. “DAMN IT!”

The homunculus didn’t even react.

“Alphonse—”

He could hear the warning in Mei’s voice, even over the screeching of his automail, but he ignored it. “STOP, STOP IT!” This monster was going to kill his brother, and Al couldn’t think past the need to not let that happen. He was not above begging. “STOP, PLEASE, DON’T—”

And then he froze. Because he felt it.

He had felt it since Briggs, the connection weakening, and he felt it now. And he knew it was about to snap. The cracks in his splintering armor… he could sense them at the edges of the seal.

Al felt, for the first time on the Promised Day, calm. Suddenly, he knew what he had to do, and he knew he had the strength to do it. While the idea should have terrified him, he was almost relieved at the realization that he could do something. And nothing scared him more than Ed getting hurt.

“Mei.” His voice betrayed his certainty. “I need a favor.”

He looked at her, and he knew it might be the last time, and that was okay.

“My brother sacrificed his right arm to bring my soul back,” he said. “So, it follows that the reverse should be possible.”

He watched as it dawned on her, the reality of what he was asking her to do, and she opened her mouth in a knee jerk protest. He spoke before she could.

“All you have to do is clear a path for me. You can do that, right?”

She didn’t say no. “But if you do that, Alphonse—”

“There’s no time! Please!” Only a handful of paces now stood between his brother and certain death. Al would take this gamble over that in a heartbeat. And he knew Mei would understand. “You’re the only one I can ask to do this.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, and her bottom lip trembled. But she nodded, and quickly began placing her kunai around him.

Even in that moment, Al had no fear for himself. His armor was spent, anyway, and without his brother Al had nothing. So it wouldn’t matter if he became nothing, now.

“STONE… GIVE ME… YOUR ENERGY—”

“ EDWARD!”

The homunculus’ voice had risen to a shriek, and Hohenheim wasn’t the only one calling out to Ed. Al could see his brother still trying to move, but he froze when Mei threw the rest of her kunai. A pentagram in the space where Ed’s right arm should be.

Ed looked at it out of the corner of his eye. There was only a split second of confusion that followed, before Ed’s face drained entirely of color and he started to tremble. He whispered something to himself in his horror, but Al was too far away to hear. He did hear it, however, when his brother started to scream.

“No… don’t,” Ed pleaded. “Don’t. AL!” Al couldn’t bear to hear his brother sound like that, but nothing would dissuade him now. Not the anguish in Edward’s voice, not the tears on Mei’s face. “ALPHONSE, DON’T!”

Al focused on the sky, so he didn’t have to see the grief on his brother’s face. He clapped his hands, and the air began to shimmer with blue light.

“AL, STOP—”

“Beat him, brother,” Al said, and he knew only Ed could. He knew that by givingEda chance at winning, he was giving the entire world a chance at making it to tomorrow. But he would’ve done it just for his brother.

When he touched his hands to the seal, the world went white.

Al couldn’t be sure how much time passed before he regained awareness, but when he did, a familiar gateway materialized out of the white space. With a familiar figure in front of the doors.

His body. Sitting right where Al had left it.

It tilted its head, as if surprised that Al had actually managed to return. “Are you ready now?”

“Yes. Now we put our faith in brother.” Ed had never let him down before.

His body smiled and held out its hand. This time, Al took it. He watched from his own eyes as the suit of armor dissolved into nothing. He couldn’t really feel much, yet, in this in-between space, but every sensation was still surreal.

“Your soul has entered you?” Truth asked, who now sat before him instead. They had a human arm and leg. His brother’s. “Will he be coming to get you back?”

Not a moment of hesitation, not a shred of doubt. “He will. Absolutely.”

“Well.” Truth opened the palm of their flesh hand, which also began to dissolve as it returned to its rightful owner. “I can’t wait to see what he will sacrifice.”

An all too familiar pain settled in Maes’ chest. He wondered if this was the alchemists’ equivalent exchange at work, replacing one source of grief with another.

Everything about this moment resembled when Roy was forced through the gateway. Al’s acceptance of his fate, Edward’s agonized screams, everyone else’s silent horror. Alchemy in the air. And Maes, once again, found himself holding someone back.

Everything had happened so quickly. The enormous blast of energy had knocked them all clean off their feet, and the next several moments passed in a panicked haze as Maes checked the others for further injuries. Riza had already lost too much blood, after all, and Roy… he had lost too much in general. His leg, and now his eyesight, and so much time, to say nothing of his mental state.

So, Maes didn’t register Alphonse’s screams right away. Not that it would have mattered. When he looked up and saw the homunculi’s Father striding purposefully towards Edward, he wanted nothing more than to intervene. But the Elrics were halfway across the battlefield— they’d never make it.

Roy, damn him, seemed intent on trying anyway. “What’s happening?” he demanded, unseeing eyes wild. He knew nothing, apart from that the brothers were in danger. “Riza, where do I aim?”

“You can’t, the fire would hit Edward!” Hawkeye told him, and she sounded just as frantic. “He’s too close to the Elrics for flame alchemy, and we’re too far to put up a barrier.”

Ed was the one screaming, now, though that didn’t quite make sense to Maes. “ALPHONSE, DON’T!”

Roy flinched at the words as if he’d been struck. “We have to do something,” he spat. This was familiar to Maes, too. The anger that came with being powerless. He could hear it in his best friend’s voice, as well as in Edward’s.

“AL, STOP—”

A flash of blue light, and then Alphonse’s arms clattered to the ground. No, not his arms. Just the arms of an empty suit of armor, now. Maes realized what Al had done a moment too late.

He wrapped his arms around Roy’s middle before he could try to move any closer. But Roy would have none of it.

“Why did Fullmetal stop yelling? What’s going on?” he asked, and only grew more agitated when neither of them answered him. “Goddamn it, what happened?”

Maes knew it would destroy him to know the truth, but he had to tell him anyway. “Alphonse… Alphonse is gone.”

Roy’s knee gave out, and Maes didn’t let go of him, so they both hit the ground.

“Alphonse is…?” He couldn’t seem to get the final word out.

“Ed’s automail arm was destroyed in the fight,” Riza explained, sinking down beside them, her voice no less wrecked. “The arm he gave up to tie Alphonse’s soul to the armor. Al reversed the deal, so Ed could still fight.”

Roy’s face was a war of emotions, and Maes watched him try to process this before evidently shoving it all into a mental box. As he had no doubt been doing all day. “Fullmetal still needs our help, then,” he said, once again attempting to move. “We can figure out how to bring Alphonse back later, but right now we need to act. Ed’s in trouble.”

Maes hesitated, but Hawkeye was already helping Roy up. “We need to get closer to have a better angle with flame alchemy,” she said, and glanced at Edward again. “And then—”

She broke off, nothing short of startled.

“What?”

Maes couldn’t blame Roy for being antsy to move, but when he followed Riza’s gaze… he couldn’t blame her for her surprise, either. The look on Edward’s face…

“On second thought,” Maes said, “we might not want to get closer just yet.”

How many months had Edward spent swearing he wouldn’t lose another loved one? How many times had he risked everything just to keep Al safe?

He didn’t even want to look at his arm, didn’t want to take his eyes off of his little brother, but he could feel it. And he knew what that meant. Ed swore he could feel his alchemy, too, scratching under the surface of his skin. He risked a glance, and his fingers twitched.

Without Alphonse, he no longer cared if he lost. No longer feared the risk. His vision tunneled on the now truthfully empty suit of armor and the homunculus that stood blocking his path.

“You… you…”

He couldn’t seem to put his fury into words, so instead he clapped his hands. A spike shot up from the Earth and knocked Father backwards. With a wordless scream, equal parts grief and rage, Ed yanked the piece of metal out of his injured arm and launched to his feet.

The homunculus still hadn’t righted himself, but Ed refused to let up. He summoned his alchemy again, and splintered the ground under their feet. Before Father could recover from that, Ed hurled a spear at him made from the same rock. When it hit, a black ooze erupted from the side of the head rather than blood. Disgusting as the sight was, Ed felt only satisfaction.

For a fleeting moment, Ed longed for flame alchemy. He didn’t know what would happen if he tried it without Roy’s gloves, but he almost attempted it anyway.

But no. He had managed to hurt this monster. Ed could kill it, and he could do it with his own power. He resolutely ignored the voice in his head that asked, and what would Roy think?

Now, Father was screaming, too. And he wasn’t the only one.Ed could hear other voices, scattered across the battlefield, shouting his name and their support. The Briggs soldiers, the chimeras, Armstrong, Hawkeye, his teacher, Mei, Hohenheim, Lan Fan. He didn’t care, didn’t stop, and then—

“Fullmetal!”

Ed’s eyes stung. Even without the nickname, he would’ve recognized the voice. Roy, who couldn’t see what was going on, who must be disoriented and afraid, had still called out to him. Even though Ed knew they were all encouraging him to keep fighting, part of him wanted to run to Mustang, wanted to believe that he could still fix everything.

But Alphonse’s voice was missing from the cacophony, an absence that felt louder than any of the other voices. People had shouted his name, called him ‘kid,’ but not ‘brother.’

Ed abandoned alchemy entirely for a moment when Father lunged again, and opted instead to punch the homunculus in the face. Exactly where he’d already landed a blow. Veins had begun to pop out of Father’s skin, and his eyes were bulged and bloodshot. The hit knocked him flat on his back, and Ed moved after him.

“GET UP!” he yelled. Alphonse was gone, and with him all of Edward’s patience, all of his sympathy. “YOU TOOK MY BROTHER FROM ME, GET UP AND FIGHT!”

Greed watched the Fullmetal Alchemist, and while everyone else shouted their support of the kid, he remained silent. Uncharacteristic of him, enough so that Ling took notice. Because the Xingese prince never knew when to shut up either, always prattling on inside his head.

“Greed… what you actually wanted so badly… is this, right?”

Well, he wanted a lot of things. He wanted money to fill his pockets, power to conquer any obstacle, and renown across the world. No matter how much he gained of any of these things, though, he’d never felt like he had enough. Infuriatingly, Greed felt wealthiest in those foggy memories of a past life, a version of himself he couldn’t get back to. Didn’t want to, because everything had been taken from him.

But before he lost it all, he had been rich in a way that truly mattered. Rich in the company he kept, rich in love. Worst of all, he could almost remember what it had felt like.

Almost, but not quite.

“You’re right,” he said, though it pained him to admit it. “All that I wanted… was to have friends like this.” This battlefield was full of people who would so clearly do anything for each other. Who would fight tooth and nail to keep their loved ones alive.

Ling hummed inside Greed’s head as he considered this. “You do,” he pointed out, and Greed tensed. “He might appreciate your help right now. Well, our help, I suppose. He’s my friend, too.”

Somehow, it had not previously occurred to Greed that Edward Elric considered him, a homunculus, a friend. He had assumed that the kid needed a powerful ally and perhaps wanted to keep tabs on what became of Ling, nothing more. But looking at the Fullmetal Alchemist right now, he didn’t seem to need any help. Maybe he never did. He’d taken on Greed’s father by himself, and he made it look easy.

“I didn’t say he needed us,” Ling said, in response to these thoughts. “But shouldn’t we help, all the same?”

Rather than answer the question, Greed opted to throw himself into the battle.

No sooner had he reached Edward’s side than Father lurched to his feet. The force of Truth’s power and his desperate efforts to keep it under control created a shockwave that knocked several men around them backwards.

“PHILOSOPHER’S STONE!”

Greed only had time to shove himself in front of Edward before Father was upon them. He plunged his arm into Greed’s stomach, teeth bared.

“Give me your philosopher’s stone!”

And Greed… well, when he started getting pulled away, he had an idea. If the idiot prince would actually let him go, anyway.

He didn’t want to lie to the kid, but Ling kept insisting that they had to fight together. That he needed him, even though Greed knew that he didn’t.

None of them needed him. Well, not past this fight, anyway. But the fact that they wanted him anyway was enough to satisfy Greed, and more than enough to convince him of what he had to do. So, he lied to Ling to make him loosen his grip just enough that a well-placed punch made him let go. There would be no sense in letting the future emperor of Xing get taken out here, too.

“Lan Fan has a philosopher’s stone,” he told Ling. “Take it and go home, kid.” He called out to Lan Fan, who didn’t hesitate before severing Father’s arm, severing the connection along with it and leaving Ling unharmed.

“Greed!” he yelled, and his voice sounded pained anyway as he watched the ourobourus on the back of his hand dissolve.

“Greed!” Ed was yelling, too, but he stopped short when he saw Ling’s face. Greed had finally managed to separate himself from these annoying kids.

He wasted no time before beginning to encase his Father’s body in carbon. As it slowly consumed him, Greed peered and smiled out of his mouth. All the while the other yelled in protest.

“GREED! Why do you turn on your father?”

Greed thought that was rich, considering who had destroyed his past life. Who was now throwing a wrench in this one. “Call it my delayed rebellious phase,” he said. “With the abilities you gave me, I’ll transform us into the weakest, most fragile carbon there is.”

Father screamed in rage, and yanked Greed out of his mouth in one white knuckled fist. He didn’t care one way or the other— Greed knew he had no way out from the moment he formed this plan. But at least now he could see the sky.

He could also see the horrified faces of the friends he’d made. Ling Yao, prince of Xing. Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist. Even though he was a monster, made of the same stuff as the creatures that had caused them both so much pain, they still looked sorry to see him go.

Because this was it, wasn’t it? The end.

Greed greeted it with a smile. “What are you looking at me like that for?” He wanted them to be happy, too. Didn’t they understand? They’d won, and what a worthy price to pay. Greed felt that his own life had never been worth more than in this moment, as he used it to save the lives of friends.

It had taken him a long time to realize it, but now that Ling had opened his eyes it seemed crystal clear. He had friends. And he’d had them for a while, whether he’d asked for it or not. And it should have stung that he could only fully appreciate it now that he would lose it all But it didn’t.

As he closed his eyes for the last time, he watched Edward Elric punch a hole straight through what had become of Father’s body. The blow easily destroyed the brittle carbon, and Greed was just one of many in a sea of souls released.

Perhaps for the first time in his life, he didn’t want anything more.

Ed watched as the familiar hands of Truth tore into the dwarf in the flask, the homunculus, Father. He listened as this monster in front of him lamented about wanting to know the world without limits, and to the horrible noise he made when he was finally consumed, finally gone, with nothing but dust and death in his wake.

Only then, when he knew for certain that the threat was over, did Edward allow himself to fall to his knees next to what remained of his Alphonse.

They’d won. Edward had won, and he didn’t care. He stared blankly at the empty suit of armor, waiting for it to wake up, to move, to be his little brother again. They’d won, and yet Edward couldn’t help but feel like he had lost the only thing that really mattered in all of this.

Everyone else around him stood stricken. He could hear others’ shouts and sobs as some drew closer, and Ed wished they would all stay away.

Only Mei Chang had joined him on the ground. She crumpled across from him on the other side of Al, inconsolable, and wept into her hands. Ed would have been furious with her, if this wasn’t clearly breaking her heart, too.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she sobbed, and Ed couldn’t be sure whether the apology was to him, Al, or herself. Either way, it didn’t matter.

“It’s not your fault,” Ed told her, and wished he believed it of himself. He wished it’s not my fault wouldn’t have been a lie. “It was Al’s decision.” This, at the very least, was a truth neither of them could argue with. But it just hurt more, that way.

“Ed, I’ve got the toll.” Ed’s gaze snapped up and landed on Ling, who held a bottle of red liquid out to him. He recognized it immediately, and was stunned. Both by the offer, and by Lan Fan’s complete lack of protest. “It’s a philosopher’s stone. Get Al back with it.”

And… he wanted to. God, Ed wanted to, but he made himself look away from it. “I can’t. I promised Al that I wouldn’t use a philosopher’s stone to get our bodies back.” He didn’t know if he could forgive Al for doing this in the first place, but he knew Al would never forgive him for breaking that promise. He’d sooner use his own life force as a stone again… though Al wouldn’t be pleased with that, either.

Ling without Greed. Armor without a soul. And nothing he could do about it.

Think. There must be a way. Ed dug a hand into his hair and pulled, as if he could force a solution from his brain. There has to be, come on, think!

“Edward.” Hohenheim stepped forward as he spoke, still half supported by Izumi. “Use my life, and bring Alphonse back.” Ed blanched, and his teacher looked just as shocked. “There’s exactly one person’s worth remaining.”

Even hearing it made Ed furious. Though he hated to admit it, the stone had tempted him. But this? Trading one family member for another? He couldn’t fathom it. “You dumbass, there’s no way I could do something like that!” Because really, how the hell could Hohenheim even ask that of him? “It’s my fault that we lost our bodies, and I’m not going to use human lives to get Al back! Why the hell should you want to put your life on the line, anyway?”

“Because I’m your father.”

And that shut Ed right up.

“This isn’t about need or reason. I love you both, and I want you to be happy. By neglecting you, I do bear some responsibility for your bodies ending up the way they are. I’m sorry.” He met Edward’s eyes. “I’ve lived long enough. At least let me act like a father at the end.”

The look on his face, the lines on his skin… in that moment, Ed knew. He knew that no matter what, Hohenheim was going to die anyway.But he still couldn’t do it.

For years, Ed had resented their father for not being there, and he sometimes resented him still. But in the question of responsibility, of blame? Maybe Hohenheim was responsible for the homunculi’s Father, but Ed had no illusions about where the fault lay for this, no matter how many times Al had tried to convince him otherwise.

Edward had carried a ceaseless guilt with him ever since he was eleven years old, and he just kept adding to the weight. For Al trading back his soul, for shooting Scar, for fighting Hughes, for ever accepting Roy’s help that day at the hospital… and the things he’d said.

For Nina. For Al losing his body in the first place.

Tears welled up in Ed’s eyes. “Don’t b ridiculous, you rotten father! Don’t say anything like that ever again, I’ll—”

He broke off as the first real sob escaped. Was he really going to lose Hohenheim anyway, before he even properly knew him? For the longest time, Ed had thought of his brother as the only family he had left, but… but…

“I’m sorry, Edward.”

Ed tore his gaze away. Think, think, he demanded in his head. You’re the youngest state alchemist in history, one of the only ones who has seen the Truth. You can do this, you can solve this. Think!

Looking at Alphonse wasn’t helping him focus, and he couldn’t bear to look at Hohenheim, either. He needed help, and so without even really thinking about it Ed did what he must have done dozens of times before. He looked for Mustang in the crowd, even though Roy couldn’t look back.

The Flame Alchemist was steadily moving forward, Hughes and Hawkeye each with one of his arms around their shoulders. His lips were moving, and the group was still far enough away that Ed couldn’t make out what Roy was saying, but they were clearly coming to help. Or at least console him.

Ed grimaced at the thought. He didn’t want anyone to have to offer up anything else, not for him, and not even for Alphonse. He had to do this himself.

But what could Truth possibly value as much as Ed valued his brother? What would Truth deem equivalent exchange?

He stared down at his clenched fists, and then. He froze.

Because… while Edward wouldn’t agree, while Alphonse was more important to him than anything, he did have an idea.

His alchemy.

Admittedly, Ed relied on it. He didn’t know how to fight without it, but now it looked like the fight might be over. He had used it as an outlet for his rage, but if he got to have both Roy and his brother back at the end of the day, Ed didn’t think he’d be very angry anymore. If he was right, if this worked, would he need it, still?

Would he even want to use it?

Restoring Alphonse as his last transmutation. Ed saw the justice in it, and he had no doubt that Truth would, too. Especially after today… after using flame alchemy. He had been tempted against Father, and he couldn’t quite promise himself that he wouldn’t be tempted to tap into that power again. Better to give it up, to leave it in Roy’s hands alone. Better to lose anything other than Alphonse.

“Mei, stand back a bit.” Ed stood up, a small smile on his face that grew wider as he began drawing the circle. A gasp from nearby— Ling, recognizing the shape —but Ed didn’t slow down, even as others began to catch on. He couldn’t give anyone enough time to stop him. He knew this would work, it had to. “I’ll be right back! This is the Fullmetal Alchemist’s last transmutation!” Ed was grinning from ear to ear when he clapped his hands together. He saw Hohenheim smile, too.

He heard several others call out to him, but the world had already started to fade.

When he opened his eyes, there was Truth. Ed stood beyond the gate, again, and stared them down. The thing that had taken his brother from him all those years ago, and took him again today. Truth had taken so much else, too. Ed felt a flare of anger for Roy’s eyesight, but he knew by now he had to tread carefully here.

“You’re here to bring your brother back, are you?” they asked. “But how can you hope to do so? What price will you pay? What are you willing to sacrifice? Will you offer your body?” Truth gestured at Edward, bruised and bloodied as he was.

Ed would have offered his body, he would have offered anything, but he didn’t need to. He jerked a thumb behind him at the gate. “I’ve got your price right here,” he said. “This huge thing. This is my gateway of truth, which means it’s up to me how I use it. Am I wrong?”

In all his encounters with Truth, Ed had never before seen them look surprised. It only lasted a moment before they started to laugh.

“Is that what it’s come to?”They covered their face with a pristine white hand, no longer Edward’s own arm. “Are you sure about this? If you give up your gateway, you’ll never be able to use alchemy again.”

“You’re right.” Ed turned to look at the doors over his shoulder. He felt, for the first time since having the idea, almost wistful. “Everything about alchemy lies beyond this gateway. However, I’ve been manipulated by it. After being shown the so-called truth, I was convinced that I could solve everything with alchemy. But I was wrong. That was just arrogance.”

In some ways, alchemy had saved Ed’s life. Becoming a state alchemist had given him purpose again, but he wouldn’t have needed that if he hadn’t attempted alchemy’s taboo in the first place.

Truth had an eerie smile on their face. “You would lower yourself to become a normal person? Unable to use alchemy?”

“Lower myself?” Ed echoed. “I’ve been just a person from the start. An insignificant human who, time and time again, couldn’t bring the people I loved back.” Nina. Roy. His mom. Even Alphonse— he’d traded an arm to keep Al’s soul tethered to the armor, but alchemy hadn’t helped him to restore his brother’s body. Not yet.

Ed felt that he’d finally found the answer they’d spent years searching for. If he’d known all along that he could get Al’s body back by surrendering his alchemy, he would’ve done so years earlier.

“You sure you’ll be okay without it?” Truth’s voice was almost teasing.

Ed felt as though he could hear everyone’s voices again, calling out to support him. The echoes of his own mind? Or were they calling out to him again, now, on the other side? He beamed back at Truth, in spite of himself.

“Without alchemy, I’ll still have them.”

Laughter had entered into Truth’s voice again. “That’s the right answer, Fullmetal Alchemist.” Ed clapped his hands together for what he knew would be the final time, and slammed them into the gate. “Take it with you, all of it!” The gate dissolved in a familiar burst of energy, and Ed turned to face Truth once more. They began to dissolve as well, and said, “The back door is over here, Edward Elric.”

Perhaps Truth’s last words to him, as they became nothing more than dust in this in-between place. Ed didn’t care to know— all that mattered was his brother.

Alphonse, after all this time, back in his body again. He sat curled up on the floor, staring at Ed with soft eyes the exact same color as his own.

In an instant, all of Ed’s anger at the bargain Al struck evaporated. They could question each other’s decision making later, but for now? Ed grabbed one of Al’s hands and lifted him to his feet.

“That was a crazy thing to do,” he said, and what an understatement. He felt the scolding must also have been undermined by the tears in his eyes.

“You too, brother,” Al replied, and offered him a soft smile. God, but he’d missed that smile. And I missed this, too, Ed thought, holding him close. Hearing the sound of his little brother’s breathing again, his heartbeat.

“Let’s go home, now. Together.” Ed helped him take the first step.

When Al opened his eyes to the world for the first time in years, Ed watched him. He hovered as he helped Al sit up, as Hohenheim took one of Al’s hands, as Mei all but tackled him in a hug. Edward stayed within arm’s length of his brother for it all, still not quite believing he’d done it. Still worried that something else could go wrong.

Even so. Ed looked around at the other people rushing in from all sides, and he allowed himself to feel relieved. If something else happened, the two of them wouldn’t be alone.

He looked past the crowd immediately surrounding them, and smiled when he saw that Roy was still stumbling forward. His voice was one of the louder ones above the din, demanding to know what had happened. Demanding to know if the Elrics were all right.

Al wasn’t the only family Edward had left, after all. He had to remember that.

They had suffered losses in this fight, but somehow, this moment still felt perfect. Ed had thought he miss his alchemy, if only in the physical sense, like a phantom limb. He had accepted the possibility gladly, had been prepared for it. But he felt nothing of the kind. In fact, Ed felt more whole than he had in a long time.

Roy had not been without his eyesight long, yet already he felt as though he might lose his mind. If he hadn’t lost it already.

“What is it, what?!” he demanded, once again trying to wrestle out of Hughes’ hold. He and Riza had started moving again once the fight ended, each with one of Roy’s arms slung over their shoulders to help him along, but now they had stopped again— Riza’s grip slackened, while Hughes’ grew tighter —and he couldn’t stand it. Edward might need his help, and Alphonse was… “What’s happened?”

No matter what, Roy was not about to stand by out of some misguided attempt to keep him safe.

He still was not prepared for the answer, though. “Ed brought Alphonse back,” Hughes said, his voice barely a whisper. As if he could scarcely believe it himself.

Even as Roy’s heart lifted, his stomach sunk with dread. “How?” he asked, whispering now himself. “What… what did he trade?”

“He said it would be his last transmutation,” Riza told him, and Roy couldn’t remember if he’d heard that or not. Everything had started to go a bit fuzzy as the adrenaline wore off. “I think… I think he traded his alchemy.”

Hughes had a smile in his voice. “He looks so happy.”

Roy felt a surge of pride. He’d known, these long years, that Edward would make a better alchemist than him, and this only further confirmed it. To hear that the kid had given his power up? It spoke volumes to his strength.

Still, Roy’s head spun with anxiety. “But they’re both okay?” He would need to talk to the Elrics himself to make sure, of course, to feel the truth of it. Preferably right now.

“Yes,” Riza promised. “They’re both okay. It’s over.”

“Well,” Roy said, suddenly breathless, “good. Let’s… let’s get over there, then.” And he promptly collapsed.

He felt hands catch him before hit the ground, but then he knew no more.

Chapter Text

Riza did not think she had let go of Roy’s hand from the moment he lost consciousness on the battlefield, and even as nurses flitted in and out of the room she refused to do so.

The thought of him waking up without his eyesight… without being able to see where he was or assess any danger… she wanted to spare him any pain she could, after everything. And that meant she had to be here whenever he woke up.

She needed to for herself, as well. She couldn’t quite make herself believe that something horrible wouldn’t happen to him the moment she turned her back, no matter how many times she tried to convince herself that he was safe, now. They all were.

Hughes hadn’t wanted to leave Roy’s side either, at first, but then they got to the hospital, and. Well, he’d been urgently needed elsewhere.

A baby born on the Promised Day. Another miracle to add to her list, another bright spot to block out all the suffering they’d endured.

“You’ll be so excited,” Riza whispered, though she knew Roy couldn’t hear her. It didn’t matter, though—how many things had she said or screamed into the air when she believed him gone? She kept her eyes trained on the steady rise and fall of his chest to remind herself that he was only asleep, and kept speaking. “So much has changed, since you left.”

Since you were taken from us, her mind corrected. The rage hadn’t quite ebbed out of her, even though there was no one left to be angry at, but she wouldn’t let the homunculi sour this moment. Not after they’d taken so much time from them already.

Riza had the love of her life back, and there would be time to feel everything that came with that later. Right now, though she knew he needed the rest, all she wanted was for Roy to wake up again.

So much had changed. She had so much she wanted to tell him. Needed to, and she knew she wasn’t the only one. But at least this, his hand held tight in hers, was familiar. She had always loved him, and she would always love him, she had even when she thought he was gone.

But… in a way, this long unspoken thing that existed between them had changed, too. For a start, they’d spoken of it now, in more blunt terms than they ever had, and now that the words were out in the open Riza didn’t want to put them away again.

She loved him, and she couldn’t possibly go back to pretending that she didn’t. Not to Roy, though she knew she’d never fooled him, and not to anyone else, either. How could she? If, after the wonder of getting him back, Riza still couldn’t be with him the way she wanted to, she thought she might go mad.

Then again, maybe she’d gone mad already. Roy Mustang had always made her feel like she’d lost her mind, and now more than ever. She felt as though she might be dreaming, might wake up to find him gone again, and she had a feeling he would struggle with that feeling as well.

So, she disregarded the doctors who said she should also get some rest, who wanted to take a look at her injuries, who tried to make her let go of his hand. Riza would not leave his side.

Maybe some things would always stay the same.

When Roy passed out, Maes very nearly followed suit.

But even as the adrenaline wore off, he couldn’t shake the surreal feeling, the worry that maybe he would wake up and find out he’d dreamed it all. That Roy was still dead.

Besides, even Roy losing consciousness felt like too much for his nerves. He couldn’t sleep now, they still needed to get Roy to a doctor, have his injuries seen to, make sure he wasn’t in immediate danger. He couldn’t sleep until he knew Roy would be okay, and since he didn’t know whether he would be able to assure himself of that fact ever again without being next to him, maybe Maes would never sleep at all.

So, when Roy passed out, Maes caught him instead. He didn’t need to think about it before he moved to do so—muscle memory, maybe. They’d done this song and dance before, and even though nothing about this day felt normal, Maes still knew how to follow the familiar steps.

He helped get Roy to a stretcher, and then that stretcher to the back of an ambulance, and then that ambulance to the hospital. Maes shadowed his best friend for every moment of it and Riza was right there with him. Because of course she was.

Never mind his multiple pleas that she see a doctor, too. Maes had thought she would bleed out in front of him mere hours ago, but she only waved off his concern. “We’re both injured,” she said. “Are you going to leave his side?”

He found it difficult to argue with her at the best of times, and… well. When she put it like that.

Maes had no interest whatsoever in leaving Roy’s side. So, he kept pace with the stretcher again as nurses wheeled Roy down white linoleum hallways overcrowded with patients. They didn’t seem to question whether or not Maes and Riza should follow them, but maybe on the Promised Day those sorts of rules had gone out the window. Maybe the hospital staff could just see the desperation on their faces.

Either way, as long as they didn’t take Roy away from him, he couldn’t bring himself to care about much else.

Or rather… he didn’t, until he heard a voice he would recognize anywhere.

“DADDY!”

Maes immediately froze in his tracks. Hawkeye stopped, too, and whatever she saw on his face made her press her lips into a thin line and place a hand on Roy’s stretcher to stall the nurse wheeling it.

“Maes,” Riza whispered, or maybe she shouted it, it didn’t matter. He could barely hear her. He was already turning away, already scanning every other face in the room, already dreading what he would find.

In the end, he didn’t have to look long. She found him—a small body barreled into his legs, with another shout. “Daddy!”

“Elicia.” Her name felt as though it had been punched out of him. Maes wrapped his arms around his daughter in turn, lifting her up and holding her close, muscle memory all over again. Faintly, he could hear Riza explaining their relation to the nurses, and he understood the shock plain on their faces, because this left him just as unmoored. His daughter, here. His daughter, in a hospital on the Promised Day. “Elicia, sweetheart, are you okay? Are you hurt? What are you doing here?”

She was supposed to be out of Amestris, safe where the transmutation circle couldn’t touch her. All day long, Maes had worried for the wellbeing of almost everyone he held dear, but he had taken comfort in knowing that at the very least his wife and daughter were out of harm’s way. So he thought.

Anything could have happened to them, and he hadn’t known, he hadn’t even wondered. How could he have… just assumed they’d be safe? Had he learned nothing, after losing Roy? He knew better, now, and he’d still left them alone. Gracia must have been so—

Gracia.

Oh, god. The fact that she wasn’t with their daughter, wasn’t at his side already… Maes didn’t even want to think about what that meant. Elicia hadn’t answered his questions, her face buried in the crook of his arm. She seemed unharmed, but if she was here, then Gracia… Gracia…

“Where’s your mother?” Maes asked. He pulled back slightly so he could look at his daughter’s face, and his stomach turned when he saw the tears in her eyes. “Elicia, angel, where’s mommy?”

Elicia’s lower lip wobbled. “The baby’s coming,” she told him. “They made me leave, and sit outside, and that’s where I saw you!”

Her words echoed in Maes’ head, and he could barely comprehend them. The baby’s coming. Gracia was due soon, yes, but Elicia had come late. He’d never thought… he’d never imagined…

God, the transmutation circle. Which his wife, daughter, and unborn child had all apparently been affected by. Would the baby be okay, after that? Would Gracia, giving birth under these conditions?

Though he’d assured himself that Elicia was uninjured by now, she certainly didn’t look okay.

Maes was beginning to believe that the Promised Day might not ever end.

“I believe your wife is in a room just down the hall,” the nurse began to explain. “We didn’t want to scare your daughter, so we—”

“So you separated her from her mother,” Maes interrupted, his voice flat. He didn’t mean for it to come out as rude as it did, he understood she was just doing her job, but he could only handle so much. No, he didn’t want Elicia to see her mother in pain, and he couldn’t imagine Gracia would want her in the room, either. But he certainly didn’t want her left alone in this chaos.

The nurse frowned at his tone. “We’ve had an influx of patience in the last several hours,” she told him, equally unimpressed. “Normally we’d have nurses available to wait with her, but...”

She trailed off, and gestured at the throng around them. She also gave a pointed look down at Roy, not seeming pleased that they’d stopped his stretcher in the middle of the hall.

Unfortunately, this drew Elicia’s attention down as well. Her eyes, still welling up, went huge. “UNCLE ROY?!”

More a shriek than anything else, and Maes winced both at the volume and the question of how the hell he would explain this to his three year-old. Roy had been her first experience with death, and Maes had tried to make her understand so carefully that he wouldn’t come back.

“Not ever?” she had asked him back then, what felt like a lifetime ago, her eyes just as wide in that moment as they were right now.

Except Roy had come back, and Maes couldn’t begin to explain that to his daughter when he still couldn’t make sense of it himself.

As always, Riza swooped in to help immediately. “It’s a very long story, Elicia, and I promise we’ll explain, but Uncle Roy’s doing okay right now,” she said. “Is your mommy okay?”

Maes was, in that moment, perhaps more grateful to Riza Hawkeye than he’d ever been. She’d been a rock for him, in these months without Roy, and it seemed like that would still be the case going forward, as they navigated this new tragedy.

The tragedy of not having lost Roy at all, and now knowing that instead he’d been suffering the whole time.

“She’s okay,” Elicia said, her voice soft. She kept staring at Roy, unconscious on the gurney. “She said it hurt really bad, but that it’s normal for a new baby to hurt when it’s on the way.” Finally, she lifted her eyes back up to Maes. “Did I hurt mommy that much?”

Maes nearly staggered under the weight of his love for her. “No, I’m sure you didn’t, sweetie,” he promised, but in truth… Gracia going into labor for the first time was, up until these last few months, the most scared he’d ever been in his life. He needed to be at his wife’s side. Now.

Hawkeye must have seen it in his face. “I can watch her,” she said, even as she laced her and Roy’s fingers together. Maes knew in a heartbeat that he couldn’t ask this of her.

“No, stay with Roy. He’ll need you there when he wakes up.” They both clearly needed it, if the immediate relief on her face was any indication. And if Maes was going to leave Roy right now, he frankly wouldn’t trust anyone else with him. Not when he still remembered watching Roy be wheeled away from him while he stood at that phone booth.

Maes dismissed the thought as soon as it came. He couldn’t think about missing that phone call right now, about leaving Roy alone in that moment. He had no doubt that it would show up in his nightmares for the rest of his life, even if Roy forgave him for it, but as long as this wasn’t a dream, as long as he got to wake up and still have Roy back tomorrow, then the phone booth didn’t matter.

Roy was alone, then, but he wasn’t now. Right now, Gracia was alone. And if Maes couldn’t let himself trust Hawkeye with Roy, would he ever really trust anybody?

He couldn’t miss the birth of his chid. Gracia would kill him, and so would Hawkeye for that matter. His wife needed him more, plain and simple, and after months where he knew he’d fallen short as a husband, he refused to do that here.

“She can wait with us for a bit,” Riza told him, “but I… don’t think Elicia should be with us when Roy wakes up.” She didn’t elaborate further, but she didn’t need to. Maes agreed. They’d both seen Roy’s panic attack earlier, and they didn’t know what condition Roy would be in when he woke up. Elicia didn’t need to see that, but… “Who do you want to watch her?”

Maes hesitated. It was an impossible ask, but everyone else he would trust—Gracia’s family, another member of Team Mustang, Winry—were too far away. “Armstrong?”

Riza, to her credit, did not blink. She only nodded. “I believe he’s assisting with clearing rubble right now, but as far as I’m aware the majority of the injured are already being tended to.” Maes believed it, with how crowded the halls of the hospital were becoming. “I’ll have someone radio him to come here as soon as they’re finished.”

Maes let out a deep breath. “Thank you.”

She let go of Roy’s hand, just for the briefest of moments, to squeeze his own. “Come along Elicia, we’re going to wait with Uncle Roy for a little while.”

He set his daughter down on her feet, but she seemed reluctant to let go. He understood the feeling. “Where are you going, daddy?”

“Your mom needs me right now,” he told her, “but we’ll both see you real soon, okay? For now, you need to wait with Aunt Riza.”

The name just slipped out, but neither Hawkeye nor his daughter reacted as if he’d said anything out of the ordinary. Elicia only nodded, gave him one last hug, and promptly attached herself to Hawkeye’s legs instead.

Maes watched them go, then raced in the direction the nurse had pointed.

Ed held his brother’s hand, and he stared at his brother’s sleeping face, and he tried to convince himself to calm down.

He tried to convince himself that Al had his body back. Even as Ed felt for his brother’s pulse with fingers no longer made of metal, he couldn’t quite make himself believe it. In this precise moment, Ed was forced to reckon with the fact that a small part of him had... never believed.

Every time Ed had sworn up and down that he would get his brother’s body back, no matter how determined he was to keep that promise, no matter how much Al believed it, a little voice in the back of his mind had always whispered and what if you can’t? What then?

Fortunately, they’d never had to find out. Al had his body back, but instead the voice whispered what now? For so long, rectifying their mistake and restoring Alphonse had been the driving force in Ed’s life. After years of trial and error, they’d finally succeeded.

Ed should have been happy, and he was, but he also didn’t really know what to do with himself. In large part because of that little voice who had convinced Edward that he’d be working towards this goal forever.

Ever since Al’s identity crisis and their resulting fight after the Fifth Laboratory fiasco, his brother’s faith in him had never wavered. Alphonse had cut his soul’s tether with full confidence Ed would find him again.

That moment… it could’ve been a goodbye. Ed had thought, screaming at his brother to stop, that it would be. Ed was still half waiting to wake up— the fact that Al was still here, and not only that, but in his body? It felt like a dream. Too good to be true.

A lot of things about today felt too good to be true. The fight over, their enemies defeated, and Roy returned to them.

Ed wouldn’t have left Al’s side for anything, but for Mustang’s sake he wished he could be in two places at once. Or… maybe just for his own peace of mind. Roy would be okay as long as he had Hughes and Hawkeye with him, but Ed’s mind was still reeling, still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He’d need to convince himself for years to come that another world-ending threat wasn’t right around the corner. But at least for right now, Ed didn’t worry about the world. He’d saved it already, and maybe next time it needed saving it could be somebody else’s turn.

Ed’s family was safe, and more whole than it had been in a long time. That was enough for him.

Roy registered the darkness before he remembered everything, which made for a rude awakening. He caught on pretty quickly, though, after opening his eyes.

Truth really had stolen his sight, then. That hadn’t been another nightmare. He was blind.

Jarring, to see more vivid images in his sleep than upon regaining consciousness. Seeing as his dreams weren’t usually pleasant these days— not that they had been before —Roy didn’t much see the appeal of relying on the images his mind conjured up.

But… though he knew he’d dreamt something, he found his mind didn’t hang onto it. Whatever he'd seen while asleep slipped away upon waking this time, and left nothing but vague images and fleeting warmth in its wake. When he tried to latch onto a thought, he could only remember Riza’s face.

Someone squeezed his arm, which made Roy realize he’d completely overlooked the fingers he could feel resting there. He didn’t startle, though. He knew whose hand it was.

“We’re safe,” Riza told him, even so. “You’re in the hospital so that they can get a look at your injuries, and I’ve been with you the whole time.”

“What about your injuries?” Roy asked, with a frown. She had promised him that she would be fine, that she could still fight, and she had. But it was difficult to shake the image of the blood on her neck, more so because he couldn’t replace it with an image of her now.

Riza only scoffed. “I could’ve guessed that would be your first question. Worry about yourself first, please, sir.”

Roy wrinkled his nose. Hearing Riza call him sir again rankled, but he took stock of himself for a moment anyway. Because she had asked it of him, and he’d never learned how to say no to her.

Never wanted to, and he wasn’t about to start now, even if the honorific felt much more out of place after everything they’d been through today.

Speaking of which… he didn’t feel great, but even without eyesight waking up in a hospital beat waking up in an underground cell. And with Riza beside him, that meant he was faring leagues better than he had been.

Still, it… wasn’t exactly a high bar, and Roy wasn’t exactly in good shape.

His head smarted— the fight got fuzzy, towards the end, but he remembered taking a few knocks. He also remembered Bradley stabbing clean through the palms of both his hands, which were now thoroughly bandaged. They still hurt every time he moved them. And then, of course, the matter of his eyesight.

Roy tried to focus his thoughts elsewhere, for the moment. He had long since gotten used to the loss of his left leg and the phantom pain that came with it, so he’d been a little startled to see how much it horrified his loved ones, how much it added to their hatred of Envy.

He’d never confess it to Riza, or Hughes for that matter, but… Roy felt that he’d sort of earned it for trying to escape. It made sense— Envy hadn’t wanted him to run again, and as horrible as they were, Roy could understand the reasoning behind it.

Truth taking his eyesight, though? He didn’t know how to make sense of that. He didn’t know how he was supposed to move forward if he couldn’t see the way. The more he dwelled on Father’s words, the more they stung.

“Roy Mustang, you have always looked tirelessly towards the future. And lately, the one thing you wanted was to see your loved ones again. So Truth blinded you.”

A reason, supposedly. Roy hadn’t gone through the gate, but maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe he deserved it anyhow.

Even if, for the first time in his life, a small voice in the back of Roy’s mind thought maybe he’d been punished enough.

After the fighting was supposedly over, after months with next to nothing to provide him comfort, Roy still didn’t see an end in sight. He was out, yes, but without his vision, how was he supposed to believe that?

“Sir?” Riza asked, and then, more tentatively, “Roy?”

He couldn’t let his thoughts show on his face, couldn’t tell her how messed up Truth had left him. Not after she’d already done so much. Not after he’d died and she’d mourned him already.

They’d all wanted Roy back. Now, they needed him. He had to return as someone they recognized, even though he no longer felt like the same person.

“I’m fine,” he said, and the words almost sounded true, this time. “What about everyone else? The Elrics?”

Not being able to see her face made the pause nerve-wracking, but she didn’t leave his question unanswered long. “Resting,” she said. “Or at least Alphonse is, and Ed won’t leave his side. Much like yourself, Al is dealing with some serious malnutrition and muscle atrophy, so he wasn’t awake for long. The price of being back in his body, it seems, but I don’t think he minded. I don’t think I’d ever seen Ed smile that big before, and Alphonse… well, I’d never seen him smile at all.”

A beat of silence, during which Roy tried not to fall apart again and Riza quickly realized what she said.

“I’m… sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Roy lied. He still felt far from it, in fact. Still felt as though something else were missing from him, besides his leg or his eyesight, something else irreparably damaged. Something deeper. “I can’t see them myself, it’s why I asked.”

He was so glad Al had his body back, and so devastated that he’d never be able to see that smile for himself. His own feelings on the matter weren’t important, though.

”So, they’re both okay?” he pressed. “How’s Fullmetal? At the end of the fight—”

Roy cut himself off, unsure how to continue. In the chaos and confusion he’d only partially been able to follow what happened after the battle ended, but Riza had told him… that Edward had given up his alchemy.

As if able to read his thoughts, because she’d always been able to do that, Riza answered the question before he could ask it. “We were right. He gave up his alchemy for his brother.”

Roy nodded. He relied on his alchemy, and as much as the things he’d done haunted him, he couldn’t ever bring himself to fully hate it. But he knew what a terrible burden alchemy could be, and he’d seen firsthand that Edward carried it with him, too.

What it must have felt like, to have that weight off his shoulders, Roy could only imagine. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to convince himself to let his alchemy go, especially not after everything that had happened. Everything he’d already lost.

Roy felt like a shell of his former self, but he was still the Flame Alchemist, and maybe that didn’t have to be such a bad thing. His alchemy had gotten him out of the Promised Day alive, and Fullmetal’s alchemy had saved the world.

And his brother. Which Roy knew would mean much more to Edward.

He’d been right earlier, then. Fullmetal was stronger than he’d ever be. He supposed that his title might be revoked by whatever government rose from the ashes of this mess— Ed couldn’t remain on the payroll without alchemy, could he? Even if he’d saved the world?

Surely he’d be honored, but most likely as Edward Elric rather than the Fullmetal Alchemist.

Well, to Roy he would always be Fullmetal, alchemy or no.

“Speaking of the Elrics, you… have another visitor,” Riza said. “One you’d best talk to without either of them here, I think.”

Roy wracked his brain. “Hughes?” He was mildly surprised that Maes hadn’t been in the room when he woke up, but he didn’t know why Riza would phrase it that way if it were him.

“No. It’s the Elrics’ father. Hohenheim. He told Major Armstrong he wanted to talk to you.”

Roy opened his mouth, then closed it. By the time he got his wits about him again, all he could manage was, “Well, if he’s anything like Fullmetal, we probably shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

Footsteps, and then a new voice. “Colonel Roy Mustang.”

Roy offered a somewhat forced smile. He hadn’t heard much from the Elrics about their father, but what he had heard left something to be desired.

This man was the reason the Elric brothers had taken up alchemy in the first place, he knew. Because of Hohenheim and his books, the books that his children had turned to in his absence, they’d dared to try human transmutation. Roy could never quite forgive that, but upon finally meeting him he found clinging to that residual anger rather difficult.

If they’d never tried to bring their mother back, would Roy have met the Elrics at all? Would they have become State Alchemists? And if not, what then?

“I believe it’s Major General, now, if my promotion for dying in the line of duty holds,” he said, just to make the man uncomfortable, then turned to where he guessed Riza would be standing. “It’s a good thing you told me it was the Elrcis’ father, Lieutenant, because the homunculi’s father sounds awfully similar.”

Roy had heard both voices earlier, which hadn’t exactly helped with the confusion that came with the loss of his eyesight. And honestly, he should probably ask about that, but one thing at a time.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?”

A pause, then, “I wanted to meet the man who raised my children in my stead.”

Roy’s mind went completely blank. He supposed he deserved that, after being deliberately difficult, but. “Raised them?” he repeated, and hearing himself say the words out loud made them even more laughable. As if he’d ever been able to control the Elric brothers. He perished the thought. “They raised themselves.”

And if he meant that last bit as a little bit of an insult, nobody had to know but him. Well, him and Riza, if her small sigh was any indication.

“You helped,” Hohenheim insisted, and kept speaking through Roy’s impulse to deny it. “You gave them direction, you made sure they weren’t alone.”

“They were never alone,” Roy said, an immediate reply made without thinking, because they’d always had each other. And even when Roy found them, it was clear that Winry and her grandmother would have moved heaven and earth for those two. Roy understood it. He’d felt much the same himself, much faster than he should ever have allowed himself to.

In no world would the Elrics have faced all of this entirely alone. They had a stubborn habit of worming their way into the hearts of anyone they met, and collected parental figures with frankly impressive speed. Roy had only grown up with his Aunt Chris, and he’d always been quietly comforted that the Elrics had such a talent for making fast friends, one he’d never shared.

“No, I suppose they weren’t,” Hohenheim said, something bittersweet in his voice. “Do I have your word that you will continue to watch over them, now that you are returned?”

‘Returned,’ as if Roy had simply been on vacation. He didn’t want to get hung up on that phrasing, though, when a different choice of words pissed him off more. “Watch over them,” Roy echoed, deadpan. “As you might have noticed, I no longer have working eyes.”

“Roy,” Riza said, sounding pained, and he winced. Probably too soon to make those jokes, huh? Well, it wasn’t worth it anyway, not if he couldn’t even see Hohenheim squirm. And especially not if it upset her.

“Even if they leave the military, I’ll still feel somewhat responsible for them,” Roy told the Elrics’ father. He couldn’t imagine a scenario in which Ed and Al kept working for the military, and he couldn’t blame them, but he also couldn’t help but selfishly want them to stay close. “But they don’t need me.” Roy needed them more, and he’d begun to realize that that had always been the case.

“Yes, they do,” Hohenheim said. “Now more than ever, after they thought they lost you. It’s me they don’t need. But that’s alright.”

Roy immediately wanted to object on both points, but a sudden thought stopped him. He’d… he’d consciously thought of the Elrics as his kids before, and tried to rationalize it in the sense that they were his responsibility, but it had always gone much deeper than that. He cared, no matter how much he’d tried to pretend he didn’t.

He hadn’t thought about what the reverse of that would mean, the implications it held for the Elrics, until now. When he’d ‘died,’ was Roy just another adult that had failed to take care of them? No, he hadn’t chosen to leave, but hadn’t he abandoned them anyway?

Instead of voicing any of those thoughts, Roy frowned. Because from the way Hohenheim spoke… “You’re leaving them again. Without saying goodbye?”

Roy wanted to demand why Hohenheim would take the time to speak to him when his sons were in the same hospital, but he couldn’t rid himself of the horrible sinking feeling in his chest. When Hohenheim responded, he confirmed it.

“I think it’s better this way.”

The words of a dying man. Roy could tell when he heard them, as someone who was convinced not that long ago that he wouldn’t escape the homunculi’s clutches alive. As someone who had, for months on end, felt like he was slowly dying, if not actually dead. Slowly losing himself.

“I’m not sure that Edward and Alphonse would agree,” Roy said, his voice suddenly tight. “You clearly care about them—” though Roy didn’t exactly agree with his way of showing it “—and they’ve been through far too much already. Why would you deprive of them of your last words?”

Roy couldn’t see the expression on Hohenheim’s face, but he could hear a bittersweet sort of sadness in his words when he spoke again. “Edward called me ‘father’ today,” he said. “And Alphonse has his body back. Those are the only last words I need.”

Roy couldn’t think of an objection to that.

He had wished, time and time again while imprisoned, that he’d been able to speak with the Elrics, with Hughes, with Riza, with the rest of his team, with anyone just one more time. But despite wanting it so badly, Roy thought— with a clarity of mind only possible now that he was out —that Hohenheim could have been right. That the chance to talk to any of his loved ones back there would’ve only hurt more.

True, Roy’s own last conversation with Fullmetal before his disappearance had turned sour, and he hoped the kid hadn’t been beating himself up over that. But as much as Roy had wanted to see him again, especially after Envy’s first trick… he preferred that to the alternative where Ed found out Roy was in trouble and couldn’t do anything about it. That would have hurt Fullmetal far worse, Roy knew.

Much like Hughes and that dreaded phone call. As Roy had already told his best friend, he was glad that Maes never picked up. If he’d answered that phone, what he heard on the other end would have haunted him all his life, much more than not answering it at all. As things stood, their ‘final’ conversation had been a happy one. Something positive to hold onto in those months of darkness.

“I’ll see you soon. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“I’ll do my best, just because you asked so nicely. Goodbye, Hughes.”

“Goodbye, Roy.”

He… hadn’t really listened to the ‘don’t do anything stupid’ part, but when did he ever?

Roy could look back and be grateful for it now in retrospect, though he didn’t know if he would feel the same if he hadn’t managed to escape. If those had, in fact, been his last words with the people he loved. Luckily, he’d never have to find out. Because, in the end, he had more time.

Hohenheim did not.

“Like you said, they’ve been through so much,” he said to Roy. “They have each other, and they won the day. This should be a happy moment. They don’t need it ruined by their old man.”

Roy opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

“I just wanted to make sure they would still have you in their corner,” Hohenheim continued. “After I go.”

“They’ll always have me in their corner, whether they need me there or not,” Roy said, finally finding the words. Because these words were just the truth. “And not just me, either. I think all of Amestris would go to war for those boys if need be, after today.”

“Before today, for some of us,” Riza added, and Roy felt her hand on his shoulder. He leaned into the touch.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Hohenheim said. “Sometimes it’s easy to forget that they’re still so young. Not yet adults, and still both better men than I could ever hope to be.”

This got Roy to smile. “I know the feeling.”

“I am glad you’re back, Roy Mustang. I am glad that my sons had your support when they did not have mine, and I am glad they will still have you after I am gone. I am glad I got to meet you.” Before Roy could make a reply, he heard footsteps heading to the door. Then, they paused. “One final question, before I take my leave. I offered to use the last of my strength to try and bargain for Alphonse’s body, but Edward refused, choosing instead to resolve it himself. Though I cannot guarantee it would work, I assume if I offered to attempt the same in order to recover your eyesight, you would refuse?”

Roy’s mouth went dry, and he felt Riza’s hand stiffen. But no matter what her counsel would be, no matter how badly Roy wanted his vision back, he knew what his answer would be.

“I’m sorry,” he said, more for Riza at his side than the man in front of him. “I couldn’t do that to the Elrics.”

“Either way, I won’t live to see the sunset.”

Roy shook his head. “Even so.”

A hand grasped his own— not Riza’s —and shook it once. “Then farewell, Major General Mustang. There is one final visit I must make.”

Roy wondered who Hohenheim would speak to, if not his sons, as he listened to the man’s receding footsteps. He felt Riza’s arms weave around him.

“I can’t imagine that my promotion will hold,” Roy said, trying to make light of the situation as he always did, even as his eyes stung. “I only corrected him to be difficult, though… I regret my determination to do so now.”

This earned him a suspiciously wet sounding chuckle from Riza, and sure enough he could feel the tears on her face when she bent to kiss his forehead.

When she had first realized that she was pregnant, Gracia took some comfort in the fact that she had done this before. She felt more than a little foolish for that, now.

Elicia’s birth was an education in the amount of pain a person could feel at once, a level of pain she had never previously imagined, but of course it hadn’t mattered to her in the long run. At the end of the day, after long hours spent in labor, she’d held her child in her arms and known everything was worth it. And on that day, nothing else had gone wrong.

Gracia thought that experience would make bringing her second child into the world easier, except she must have forgotten just how much it hurt. And the hospital was crowded with those injured in the battle, and the doctor had said he didn’t have enough nurses at his disposal for the delivery within her earshot, and she’d been separated from her daughter, and her husband wasn’t there, and—

And then he was.

Maes threw the door open, and even with all the chaos in the room and back out in the hall, he had eyes only for her.

In that moment, Gracia’s heart lifted, and everything seemed to hurt a little less. Despite it all, she found the strength to smile at him.

He was at her side in the space of her next struggling breath. His fingers laced through hers and his other hand pushed a sweaty strand of hair back behind her ear. Gracia could see the questions in his eyes—what happened why are you here are you okay—and she wanted to answer him, but she couldn’t find the words. Maybe she should apologize for not managing to escape the danger, but then again… how glad she was that she hadn’t been able to leave, after all, because—

“I’m here,” Maes told her, as if that were the only thing that mattered right now, and it was. He was. “Whatever you need, I’m here.”

“That’s exactly what I needed,” Gracia managed, and her breathing felt like it grew just a little bit lighter. Him, right beside her and safe, the battle won. But, just to be sure, “It’s over?”

“It’s over,” Maes echoed, and smiled back even as if his eyes filled with tears. She squeezed his hand. “It’s over. I’ll tell you everything, but right now we have something much more important to worry about.” He squeezed back. “Our baby.”

Gracia melted in the face of that smile, she always did. Still, she couldn’t fully let herself stop worrying about the world outside the room, not yet. “Elicia—”

“She’s with Hawkeye,” Maes said, before she could even fully voice her concern, and kissed their joined hands. “She’s safe. Right now, my priority is you.”

She loved him. She loved him so much. “Our baby… is being born on the Promised Day,” she said, halfway delirious. Gracia still didn’t entirely know what that meant, only what little he’d told her.

“I think spring birthdays are beautiful,” he joked, and Gracia laughed even through all the pain. That was one of the first things she’d fallen for— he could always make her laugh. “New beginnings and all that.” He paused, expression going serious as he squeezed her hand again. “Are you ready?”

She loved that he asked her, as if she had a choice. As if she could say the word, and he’d stop all the pain. This baby was coming now, no matter what.

But with him at her side again, Gracia was ready. She was ready to hold their second child, to begin this new stage of their lives in a world that was no longer in danger of ending. She kissed his hand in answer. “I think spring birthdays are beautiful, too.”

Scar would never have expected to have his wounds treated in an Amestris military hospital, but more unlikely things had happened. In the past twenty four hours, even.

He’d helped to save Amestris, which he still had difficulty wrapping his mind around, but at least he’d gotten to kill Bradley. Not that anyone could know that— the story being spun by the rest of Mustang’s team was that the Fuhrer had died a hero. And Scar didn’t particularly want to shatter the tentative truce he had with what remained of the country’s government.

Tentative enough that he was surprised to wake up at all, let alone in a hospital. When his surroundings came into focus around him, Scar saw that the man standing over him and tending to his wounds was none other than Doctor Marcoh. Otherwise, his room was empty. This made more sense.

Scar’s mind unwillingly went to the blonde-haired, blue-eyed doctors he had killed back in Ishval, the terrified looks on their faces. The anger in their daughter’s eyes, and in the Fullmetal Alchemist’s.

Yes. If Marcoh was the only doctor in the entire building willing to assist him, Scar found that a little less confusing.

But—

He jolted up. The thought had struck him so suddenly that he could do nothing else but seize the doctor’s hand where it reached for his bandages.

Marcoh startled, but recovered quick enough. “It’s good to see you awake,” he said, “but try not to move too much. Your injuries were severe.”

Scar knew this, and had known even while facing Bradley that he was pushing his body too far. He’d considered taking the Fuhrer out with him as worth dying for, but he remained alive. And, in the time he’d spent unconscious...

He searched the doctor’s face, and could not find the answer there. “Tell me you did not use the philosopher’s stone.”

“To heal you?” Marcoh frowned. “I knew it would be against your wishes, and still I admit I considered it. But… I did not have to. That Xingese girl, the alkahestrist, she assisted me. She’s very fond of you, I think.”

It warmed Scar to think that Mei Chang valued him enough to check up on him in the aftermath of the battle and offer her services, but he needed Marcoh to understand why he had asked, first. “We must use it on Mustang.”

Something else he’d never anticipated—the respect he now held for Roy Mustang, in spite of everything he had done. The man wanted to right the wrongs he’d done in Ishval, and in order to so, Scar thought the Flame Alchemist deserved his eyesight back.

To Scar, it felt as though they each owed the other a great deal. Any real friendship would be impossible between them, but he wanted to take this step to make the truce a little less unsteady.

Marcoh did not look surprised, though Scar had surprised himself. “I had the same thought,” he said, and Scar knew they shared the same guilt. For leaving Mustang behind. “I’m not the one you’ll need to convince.”

Ah. Scar had not thought of this, in his haste to make sure that Marcoh still had the stone, but he knew in an instant that it was the truth. Mustang would, with absolute certainty, try to refuse the help of a philosopher’s stone.

No matter. If he alone could not convince him, Scar knew of several other people in the hospital who would help.

Alphonse woke up, and was for a moment so wrapped up in the thought that he could wake up that he didn’t stop to think about much else.

When he first returned to his body on the battlefield, with so much still uncertain and his mind demanding did we win? on a loop, Al hand’t found the time to fully appreciate the feeling.

So many feelings, finally restored to him. Before he opened his eyes, before he reconciled with all the work he still had to do, Al gave himself a moment to get lost in that sensation. In truly being alive again.

The faint smell of antiseptic in his nose, the scratchy hospital sheets against his skin, the need for water building in his throat— Al felt all of this keenly. All of the senses he’d had stolen from him. He felt as though he were experiencing them for the very first time.

Even the act of waking up at all felt like a novelty to Alphonse, who had gone so long without needing sleep.

And, of course, when he opened his eyes, his brother was there. Ed sat in a chair beside Al’s bed, looking for all the world like he’d never move from that spot. When their gazes met, Al found he couldn’t quite decipher the expression on his brother’s face. Something unreadable warred with Edward’s visible relief.

They had… a lot to talk about, but as far as Alphonse was concerned, all of it could wait just a few more minutes.

“Hey brother,” he began, and his voice came out scratchy with disuse. “Can… I have a hug?”

Ed, though Al knew he didn’t much care for hugs generally, didn’t hesitate. He didn’t hold on quite as tightly as Al did, but he suspected that had more to do with the shape he was in than any reluctance on his brother’s part.

Alphonse supposed he’d have to get used to it, being handled so delicately. Being fully human again.

A little frustrating, but more than worth it to have his body back. Besides, Al would be a pretty big hypocrite if he tried to get his brother to stop worrying about him.

Ed pulled back, stared him down. “Don’t ever do anything like that again,” he said, his voice unsteady though he tried to sound firm. His gaze flickered down to his own hand on Al’s shoulder, the one that Al had bargained for with his soul. “Not for me.”

Al only smiled. “I can’t promise you that.”

It seemed like the answer Ed had expected, and so he didn’t fight it. He simply sat down on Al’s bed with a heavy sigh—apparently even the chair was too far, now.

“Is it…?”

Al hesitated on the question, almost afraid to ask. Afraid of what the answer might be. But he had to make sure.

“Is it really over? We really won?”

“We won,” Ed told him, and almost sounded like he believed it. “It’s real. This is real.” He squeezed Al’s shoulder, which he still hadn’t let go of, as if to further convince himself.

Al nodded, absorbing this fact. “And… everyone else?” All of the people who had risked their lives, their faces ran through his memory. “Is Mei okay?”

Ed’s answering look was knowing, and Al’s body rushed to betray him by blushing to the roots of his hair. So what if he’d thought of her first? Al knew for a fact that Ed was probably worrying about Winry, and she wasn’t even here! Besides—

“I tried to shield her from that blast,” Al said, not sure why he felt the need to explain himself, “but I wasn’t sure how well it worked.”

“She’s fine,” Ed assured him. “She’s more worried about you. She was here, for a bit, but she went to help some of the other patients. I’m sure she’ll be back the second she finds out you’re awake.”

Of course she was helping other patients. Al should have known that before he asked. Still. It felt good to know that she was okay.

Ed’s smirk was only part of the reason that Al quickly moved on. He hadn’t just wanted to know about Mei, after all.

“And teacher, and Hohenheim? They were right near us for that attack, too.”

The humor vanished from Ed’s expression, but he replied before Al could start to panic. “Teacher’s fine, for the most part. She’s got her own room here somewhere too, I think, but just for minor stuff. She’ll probably be back on her feet before you are.”

“I’m not hurt!”

“No, just severely malnourished, and sleep deprived. Deprived of pretty much everything, more like. It turns out you weren’t getting a whole lot of sun or time to stretch your legs on the other side of the gate, go figure. You’ve probably got about a thousand new deficiencies.”

Al rolled his eyes. Another thing he hadn’t really thought about missing, but he knew he’d enjoy getting to do again. Ed seemed less enthused by this development. “I’m not worried about me!”

“Well, I am!” Ed nearly shouted it, despite the fact that they weren’t even sitting an arm’s length apart, because he still hadn’t quite let go of Alphonse. “I’m worried about you right now, not Hohenheim.” Al heard the lie in his voice. “But since you asked, he left.” That time, Al heard the unspoken again. “While you were… he left. I don’t think anyone knows where he’s gone. Armstrong saw him last.”

“I’m sure he’ll be back,” Al said, and he knew his brother could tell when he was lying, too. “When he’s ready to see us.”

The silence stretched between them for a moment, unhappy but not uncomfortable.

Al’s next thought came with such urgency that he jolted a little, this body and the way it reacted to his emotions still unfamiliar to him. “What about Roy?”

The anger in Ed’s eyes faded, replaced by a confusing mix of feelings that Al knew all too well, because he felt them himself. Roy Mustang, alive, but at the cost of having endured isolation the depths of which Al couldn’t imagine, and hurt that he didn’t want to. He knew the homunculi and what they were capable of, he knew they must’ve put Roy through hell, and maybe that was all the detail that he could stomach, at least in this moment.

“He’s… he’ll be okay.” Ed sounded more certain of it than Al expected. Despite what Kimblee told him, Al had still barely been able to process the fact that Roy was alive because of the chaos that ensued immediately after their reunion, let alone talk to him. And he had so much he wanted to say. “He will. We’ll make sure of it.”

Ah. Al had seen that fire in his brother’s eyes before. “You want to take him to Winry.” He didn’t phrase it as a question, because he didn’t need to.

Ed looked down, and rubbed absentmindedly at the place where his automail leg met flesh. “Truth took his sight, Alphonse,” he whispered, and Al knew this, but the words and the way his brother said them still made his heart ache. “The least I can do is help him through getting automail fitted for his leg. Envy took that, so he wouldn’t run.”

Al had not known that last part, but Ed looked furious and he himself felt almost sick thinking about it, and so he latched onto another thought. “I’m sorry we couldn’t get your leg back.”

Ed just stared at him with a sort of fond exasperation, but he didn’t look surprised. “You have to know that I never really cared about my leg. All this time, all this talk about getting our bodies back, I just wanted you back, Alphonse. You have to know that.”

“I know,” Al told him, “but I cared about it.”

Ed shrugged. “Well, now Roy and I match,” he said, with a sour twist of his mouth. Al knew it was for Roy’s leg, rather than his own. “And I won’t be depriving Winry of her favorite customer.”

Al tried to smile again, but it must have fallen flat, because Ed continued more seriously.

“You’d already traded your soul for my arm, Al. Bargaining with Truth… asking for too much is dangerous, and so I wasn’t about to ask for anything but you.”

This, finally, brought them to the subject Al had dreaded. He didn’t remember everything from beyond the gate, and maybe it would return to him in time like it had before, but he remembered enough. “You gave up your alchemy.”

Ed scoffed. “Good riddance.”

“Brother—”

“I mean it,” he interrupted, before Al could fully protest. “The only reason I kept up with alchemy when we were kids was to get your body back. Now that’s done, and the fighting is over, and everyone’s safe. Why the hell would I still want it?”

Al frowned. He knew that, in spite of everything, Ed had still always loved alchemy. He knew that choosing to give it up couldn’t have possibly been that easy. Unless… “Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

Ed jumped, and then let out a huff of surprised laughter. “How do you always do that?”

“We haven’t had a chance to really talk since Briggs, brother,” Al pointed out. “I’m sure there’s a lot that we need to catch up on, but something’s bothering you, isn’t it? Something to do with your alchemy?”

Ed took a deep breath, and spoke in a rush on the exhale. “I used flame alchemy.”

Whatever Al had expected, it wasn’t this. When and why and how swirled around in his mind, but when he opened his mouth, no sound came out. He knew his brother well enough to know that he’d only use flame alchemy as a last resort. Before he’d gotten there, had the fight really been so bad…?

Mistaking his shock and concern for judgment, Ed quickly continued. “The homunculi made some sort of… unkillable army. Mindless mannequins made from a philosopher’s stone, just focused on killing, but sometimes they still seemed so human. I don’t know if any made it out of headquarters, so I don’t know if you saw them yourself, but… everything we tried barely slowed them down. And more of them just kept coming. And we had to do something, and Hawkeye had Roy’s gloves, and...”

He trailed off, and he shook his head.

“It was the only way,” he said, and he seemed certain of this, but no less miserable for it. “The Lieutenant told me Roy wouldn’t have minded, and I wanted to believe her, but now he’s back.” His voice broke on the word. “I’m so grateful to have him back, but. How the hell am I going to tell him? He never would have wanted me to… he never would have wanted that.”

Al watched his brother with mounting sorrow. This has been weighing on him all day, he thought, and his heart seemed to sink further in his chest. On top of everything else, he’s been worried that Roy will hate him for this. That he’ll lose him again, just in a different way.

He had to reassure Ed somehow, convince him of what he knew to be true—that Roy would never hold this against him. But Al didn’t know what to do to make Ed believe it, short of making him go talk to Roy.

Or… actually, maybe he did have something. Before he could reconsider the thought, Al pushed forward. He’d be a hypocrite if he told his brother to just tell Roy without getting these words out.

“I used a philosopher’s stone against Kimblee and Pride,” Al confessed, and resisted the impulse to squeeze his eyes shut so that he could avoid the look on his brother’s face. “Marcoh had one, and we couldn’t have won the fight without it. Like you said, it was the only way. I didn’t want to, but I don’t regret it, and neither should you.” He took a deep breath. “And I wasn’t sure how I would tell you, but I knew you wouldn’t be mad.” At least, he’d hoped not.

“Of course not,” Ed replied immediately. He seemed surprised, but sincere. “Al, I could never be mad at you for doing what you needed to do to stay alive. But that’s different.”

Al narrowed his eyes at him. “How is it different?

Ed withered a little under the scrutiny.

“Exactly.”

A knock at the door startled them both, and Al’s gaze snapped up to see Lieutenant Hawkeye in the doorway of his hospital room with a soft smile on her face. Much like his brother, she was still in her clothes from the battle, and Al couldn’t be sure whether the blood on her coat was hers, someone else’s, or a mixture of both.

“I hope I’m not interrupting you two,” she said, “but Edward, Roy’s asking for you.”

Ed moved as if to get up immediately, then hesitated, glancing at Alphonse. “Oh. I should… I should probably stay here.” He didn’t think he should leave Alphonse alone, clearly, but his lingering concern for Roy was equally as evident.

Al rolled his eyes again. Honestly. He was fine, and they’d just established he’d need to talk to Roy. No time like the present. “You should go,” Al told him, and made a shooing gesture with his hand to emphasize the point in response to his brother’s look. “Really. I… I can’t check on him myself, so if you could, I’ll hang out here with the Lieutenant.” It was the truth. Al doubted he’d be able to walk without a little help for a few days yet, though he also longed to see Roy for himself.

Riza nodded her agreement. “Roy’s in the same boat. He wanted to come see you both, but he’s confined to bedrest for now while his body recovers. As you can imagine, he’s thrilled about that.” Her smile turned bittersweet. “But he told me he’d settle for me to report on your condition, Alphonse, since he doesn’t want you straining yourself either.”

Ed hugged him again—this time without needing to be asked. “I’ll be right back,” he said into Al’s shoulder, with conviction, and held on a little tighter before he let go. Ed turned to Hawkeye. “Come get me if anything about his condition changes?”

“I will,” she promised. “And I trust you to do the same for Roy.”

Ed’s shoulders straightened at her words, at I trust you. “Of course.” And Al knew Ed would take to this bedside vigil with just as much fervor. Because, of course, Roy was their family, too.

In the wake of Hohenheim’s visit, Roy resumed asking after everyone else’s wellbeing. Because of course he did. Riza, who considered his wellbeing her priority, didn’t like to see him working himself up with worry, but she still answered every question.

Because of course she would.

“Is Hughes alright?” Despite assurances that everyone was most concerned for Roy, he still looked nervous as he posed the question, and Riza… she found it more than a little charming. Not that she would ever tell him so. “I… I didn’t think he was injured, in the fight, but if he’s not here…”

Riza should have expected this. Roy knew nothing short of a miracle would prompt his best friend to leave his side, so he wondered whether something bad had happened. She understood the concern—they’d had more than their fair share of bad luck, lately.

But in this case, it really was a miracle.

“He’s perfectly fine,” she began, because she wanted to convince Roy of that, first. “We both came to the hospital with you, and… we ran into Elicia.”

“Elicia?” Roy echoed, voice sharp with equal parts alarm and disbelief. “Why in the world—?”

“Gracia’s in labor,” Riza cut him off, before he strained himself. “The Promised Day had one last surprise in store.”

Roy’s eyes, though unseeing, had gone very wide. “Right now? Today?”

“I’m not sure when we can expect the baby to arrive, but last I heard from the nurses, she’s doing well. No complications, although I know it’s no easy thing, to bring a child into this world.” Hopefully, this day had brought with it a better world for the Hughes’ child to be born into. But Roy didn’t seem as surprised as she might have expected. “Did he tell you that Gracia was pregnant?”

“Envy told me,” he said, almost absentmindedly, and oh, Riza seethed.

She wanted to demand why, but she had a horrible feeling she already knew, what with Envy’s tendency to taunt. Riza reminded herself that the homunculus was dead, though with every new detail she learned of Roy’s imprisonment she wished Envy had died slower.

“I didn’t know how far along,” Roy continued, oblivious to the raging tempest in her mind. “I struggled to keep track of the days without sunlight, but I never thought… why was Hughes fighting today? With Gracia so close to giving birth?”

“The baby decided to come a couple weeks early,” Riza told him, in what she hoped was a placating voice, but Roy only looked more frustrated.

“You know what I mean, Lieutenant,” he said, and the title—when he’d barely used it all day—stung just a little. “He has two children now who need him, he shouldn’t have been out there risking his life. Why would he—?”

“For you.”

And it wasn’t that simple, because Hughes had also joined the fight for her, and for the rest of Roy’s former team, and for the Elrics, because they needed him. And he’d also done it in part for Gracia, and Elicia, and the baby, and their future.

And yet, at the same time, it also was that simple. Roy’s presumed death was the crux of it all. Not just for Hughes, either.

Roy shut his mouth, clearly a bit dumbstruck, and Riza’s heart ached in her chest.

“He considers you family, too, Roy,” she told him, though he had to know that already. But he still seemed unconvinced.

“Before today, he thought I was dead.”

Riza allowedherself a fond shake of her head. “Exactly.”

“Well.” Roy still seemed uncomfortable with the idea, but he absorbed her words with a small nod. “I’m glad they’re okay, him and Gracia both. Is Elicia…?”

“She’s perfect,” Riza said. “Armstrong is watching her.”

Roy blanched. “General Armstrong is—”

“Major Armstrong,” Riza cut him off, because really, no one in their right mind would ask Olivier to babysit. “But they’re both alright, as well.”

“And the rest of our team?” Roy asked. Evidently, he wouldn’t be satisfied until he asked after everyone. The dread Riza had felt when he’d first wanted to know rushed back to her, but she found it more difficult to pick the right words.“You told me they were all helping, too, but elsewhere. Have you heard from them?”

Riza took a slow breath in, exhaled. He deserved the truth, she knew, and though she’d wanted to wait until he had a moment of peace… she now found herself loath to shatter it. Still, she hated having anything secret between them even more.

“Roy, there’s something you should know,” she said. How to begin? “The team… we were getting close to figuring out what the homunculi had planned, and Bradley… he split us all up. Told us to stop digging.”

Roy’s face fell, but he quickly tried to cover it with a smile. “I supposed that’s better than him faking your murders as well.”

Riza winced, but pressed on. “He sent Breda south, Fuery west, and Falman north.” No sense in trying catch Roy up on what they’d all endured in those respective places— he could talk to each of them himself shortly. “They’re all here in Central now, though. They all wanted to help. Falman came with the other men from Briggs, while Fuery and Breda are helping spin the story in your favor.”

“The story?” Roy echoed, and she couldn’t blame him for the uneasy edge in his voice.

He needed to be caught up, and Riza wanted to tell him all of it, but she worried it would be too much too quickly. She worried that he might disagree with their tactics, with how much they’d risked— reckless though he could be, Roy had always preferred to take the brunt of the danger on himself. In his shoes, she would have hated to learn of everything she missed.

“Your death was widely reported on,” Riza said. “People will start to ask questions, some have started already, but we can fit you in to the version of all of this that we’re feeding to the public, since we laid that groundwork already.”

“Groundwork,” he repeated. “Do I want to ask?”

“You know I’ll tell you anyway, sir,” Riza said, and proceeded to do just that.

“You kidnapped Bradley’s wife?”

Riza knew how the plan must have sounded from an outside perspective—and didn’t it just kill her that now Roy was an outsider to the work of his own team—so she couldn’t fault him for his incredulity. “We had to stay a step ahead,” she explained. “Bradley’s men called her expendable in front of her, and we made ourselves look like the Fuhrer’s supporters in the midst of an attempted coup. Mrs. Bradley herself has gone on air to talk about the attempts on her life and her husband’s.”

“Successful attempt?” Roy clarified. “Bradley is gone, right?”

“...Scar killed him,” Riza said, at length. “But I would try to avoid looking too pleased by that. Since we can’t very well tell the public the real reason you were held captive, the official story is that you discovered the plot to overthrow Bradley while it was still in the works, months ago. They kidnapped you and faked your death to make sure you couldn’t foil their plans.”

Roy wrinkled his nose, in that way of his that Riza refused to admit she found endearing. “They would be idiots to keep me alive, unless they had some reason for it.”

“Perhaps they wanted you to give up the secrets of Flame Alchemy, or they thought they could convince you to join their cause. Those details can be added later. I knew you’d have some notes, and I’m sure at some point the press will want to talk to you directly, but we don’t have to worry about that quite yet. Right now, the people are calling you a hero.”

But Roy didn’t seem to much like this, either. “They’ve done that before,” he muttered. “What did Hughes have to say about this plan you all cooked up, anyway?”

“Kidnapping Mrs. Bradley was actually his idea.” Bradley had threatened his pregnant wife, after all. Riza could hardly blame him.

Roy shook his head in disbelief, but he didn’t question it. “I assume you both also had to desert to take part in the fight?” he asked..

“No,” Riza said, with a grimace he couldn’t see. “We were both allowed to stay in Central, after Bradley transferred the others. Hughes stayed in his regular position and I… I became the Fuhrer’s personal assistant.”

“What?!” She was at his side in an instant, curbing his immediate impulse to get out of the hospital bed. “You became a hostage, you mean. What did he—?”

“I’m fine,” she reminded him. “It’s how we found out about Pride, anyway, and the Fuhrer is already dead. You can’t very well go after him in hell.”

Roy seemed to consider this. “I suppose I’ll see him there eventually, at any rate.”

“Then I suppose I’ll be following you there.” Her old promise. She may as well have made it a lifetime ago.

Roy looked amused. Remembering his words to her upon their reunion, no doubt. “You already did that,” he told her, and continued in response to her confused silence. “Followed me into hell? That’s what I’d call the underground room they kept me in. You followed me down there and you got me out.”

No one else had the power to make her speechless quite like he did.

“And the others did, too,” Roy said, still smiling, then paused. “Well, what about Havoc? You didn’t mention him, before. Did they send him back East?”

Now, Riza found herself speechless for an entirely different reason. How could she tell him what had happened to Havoc? She still felt responsible.

“…Riza?”

Of course Roy knew her silence could only mean bad news. She’d known she would have to tell him when this conversation began, and dreaded it, and delayed, but now it would be cruel to do anything other than explain. She could already see him starting to assume the worst.

“Havoc will be here soon,” she told him, and at least some of the tension left his shoulders. “You said Envy told you about Hughes and I killing another homunculus? The one they called Lust?”

“Yes, we met,” he said, deadpan.

“Havoc came to the Third Laboratory with us, when we ran into her,” Riza continued. It was difficult to get the words out past the lump in her throat—both because she knew they would hurt Roy, and because they still hurt her, even after all this time. “Lust attacked Havoc and Hughes, injured them both. Maes made a full recovery, but Jean… she severed his spine. He… he can’t walk, Roy.”

The instant devastation on his face as he absorbed this made her own eyes sting, but even worse was the hurt in his voice. “He can’t… how long?”

She shook her head, a little helplessly. “Months ago, now. But he’s—”

Riza would never know what small comfort had been about to leave her mouth, because Roy didn’t want to hear it.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He whispered it, still with that anguished look, and Riza would have preferred he shouted at her. “Earlier, when I asked about everyone else, you said they were all fine. All helping, just not here.”

“I planned to tell you everything once we got you out of there,” Riza said. She understood that he felt lied to, but she would not apologize for putting his safety first, even if she knew that he would care more about his team. Even if she hated to see him like this. “And Havoc is fine. He supplied us with weapons for the fight, and he’s on his way here now.”

“He’s not fine, I promise you that,” Roy insisted. “I lost my leg months ago, and I’m—”

His voice broke, and with it Riza’s heart.

She reached for him. She couldn’t help it, she would always be drawn to him, even if he didn’t want her there. “Roy…”

Maybe he could hear the pain in her own voice, and as always, he seemed to know without thinking what she needed. He held his bandaged hand out, palm up, and she took it gently in both of her own. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles, and Riza forced her breathing to remain steady.

She had wondered, after escaping the tunnels, whether things would go back to the way they were— the Flame Alchemist and his silent second in command. Now, she was beginning to understand that they never would.

She’d have to rewrite the version of Roy she knew, the man she had first fallen for, with who he was now. His experience had changed him in ways she knew she’d only just begun to understand But she also knew she’d fall in love with him all over again, and she’d do it happily if with this Roy she could have moments like these. And she’d always loved any version of him, anyhow.

The child learning alchemy from her father, the hopeful military cadet, the jaded soldier in Ishval, the cocksure Colonel determined to move up through the ranks. And whoever he was now. And whoever he’d become after this. Riza would be at his side, and she would be in love with him.

“I love you,” Roy told her, as if he could hear the thoughts inside her head. Because he always could. This remained a constant between them. “I love you. And I understand why you kept it from me, and I understand that it was the right call. But there’s so much that I missed, and it’s just. It’s hard to hear about it all.”

All at once, Riza understood. He wasn’t angry at her for not telling him what happened to Havoc, not really. He was angry at himself for not being there to stop it. He was, after all, after everything, still Roy Mustang.

She closed the distance between them, because suddenly the brush of a kiss against her fingers—while more than they’d been able to do in public in the past—was far from enough. His eyes widened, slightly, when he felt her hands move to his face, and then she was on the hospital bed, too, crashing into him like she needed him for air. She let herself get lost in the feel of his lips, his hands moving around her waist, her fingers tangling in his hair.

Riza knew he didn’t want to hear it, but she hoped he would keep up his talent for reading her mind, because didn’t he understand? I love you, she thought at him furiously. You’re worried about what we had to go through without you? Can’t you see how I feel, knowing that you were alone all that time? What about what you went through without me?

Well, he’d never be without her again. Riza promised it to them both with that kiss.

Of course, when she finally pulled away, it became clear that he hadn’t guessed her thoughts. He didn’t seem like he’d been thinking about much at all. Roy’s unseeing eyes were still wide open. The fact that he had the nerve to look so disbelieving when he was the one who’d come back from the dead sent a spike of affection through her chest.

She let her head fall to his shoulder, and his arms tightened around her as he buried his face in her hair. She’d have to tell him all those things, but in this moment they didn’t speak.

Riza didn’t know how much time passed like that, but when she eventually convinced herself to loosen her own hold on him, she did so with an idea.

“I think you should talk to Edward,” she said. “I can go sit with Alphonse, and send Ed in.”

Roy hesitated. “You can’t possibly think I want you to leave?”

More so, Riza was afraid of what she might do if she stayed. It had already taken a significant amount of willpower just to stop kissing him. Roy didn’t seem to care right now whether a nurse or doctor or even someone from the military walked in on them, but he was exhausted and injured. She was both of those things herself, yes, but one of them had to have better judgment and it was usually her.

Besides, she knew the only reason Ed hadn’t barged in here already was because he didn’t want to leave his brother alone. They had a lot to talk about.

“I lost my leg months ago, and I’m—” still not fine.

Roy hadn’t finished the sentence, but she had a talent for reading his thoughts, too. Edward could help him with this, in a way that she simply couldn’t. But she didn’t mind. Admittedly, Riza was also eager to talk with Alphonse. To see his face, so like his brother’s, rather than a suit of armor. To rewrite the version of him she’d first met with this one.

They’d all been fundamentally changed, today. Edward perhaps more than most.

“I know he wants to talk to you,” Riza told him. As much as she loved the Elrics, Roy had always understood them in ways she never could. Young, talented alchemists who had seen far too much far too soon. And now Ed had used flame alchemy and Roy had seen beyond the gate.

They needed each other, right now. Riza had already sufficiently assured herself that she had Roy back for good, at least in this moment. She’d have more moments, more time. They all would, but if she knew Edward she knew he’d still need some convincing.

“I’m sure he doesn’t want to leave Alphonse’s side—”

“He wants to talk to you,” Riza repeated, and tugged his hands towards her mouth when they lingered, returning his earlier kiss. “Promise you won’t get out of bed if I go get him?” After his outburst when he learned of her working as Bradley’s assistant, she couldn’t be sure.

Roy huffed. “Even if I do, I can’t exactly go far.”

Riza frowned. “If the doctors didn’t tell you, your crutches are here,” she said, and guided his hand to where they rested against the wall by his bed. Apparently no one had told him, judging by his expression. “Hughes insisted they be brought here, even though I’m sure he’ll also insist a better pair be made.” She paused, considering her words carefully. “I… but even without them, nobody thinks of you as weak. Without your leg, without your eyesight, you’re still one of the strongest people I’ve ever known. You don’t need me here to watch over you.”

“I always needed you to watch over me,” Roy told her, immediate and sure. “But that doesn’t matter as much as the fact that I want you to.”

Riza kissed him again, just a chaste press of their lips together, just because she could. “I love you, too.”

She could still feel the uncharacteristically giddy smile on her face when she finally left the room, only to find herself face to face with General Armstrong.

She already wore a scowl, but it deepened when she saw Riza.

“Does he know?” Olivier demanded, and Riza shut the door behind her.

The door to the hospital room creaked when Ed opened it, and though Roy turned to look at the sound, his eyes were still unseeing.

“Fullmetal? Is that you?”

He’d said the same exact thing after going through the gate, after coming back from the dead. The first words Roy Mustang had said to him since their conversation on this very same hospital’s roof that had haunted Ed ever since.

“They said something about me being a… a sacrifice. What do you think it means?”

“Let’s hope we never have to find out.”

Ed felt like he’d aged years since then. He was sure Roy felt the same.

“I’m not sure you can call me that anymore, Colonel,” Ed pointed out, rather than let himself get choked up voicing any of his other thoughts just yet. “I don’t have my alchemy anymore.”

Roy nodded; he clearly knew this already. “Well, I’m not sure you should be calling me ‘Colonel,’” he said. “I heard I’ve been promoted two ranks.”

Ed scoffed. “Yeah, well, I don’t know about that. Seeing as you’re not actually dead—”

He cut himself off and dropped his gaze, more than a little horrified that he’d brought it up so casually. Edward had picked up the habit of seeing the humor in how absurd his life was a long time ago. Exhausted and with everyone he cared about out of danger, Ed found comfort in recognizing the ridiculousness of the situation. Roy, alive, after all this time. They’d never even considered it, but why not? If the universe was determined to keep dropping bombshells in his path, then some might as well be good ones.

But just because making light of all this helped him, that didn’t mean it would help Roy.

He swallowed. “Sorry.”

When he gained the nerve to look at Roy again, though, Ed found nothing but a bemused sort of surprise on his face. “No, I’m… it would make me feel better, if we didn’t dance around the subject. If everyone could treat me normally, even if nothing about this is normal.” He gestured vaguely, as if by ‘this’ he just meant ‘everything.’

Ed understood Roy’s need to be treated like he wasn’t fragile or damaged— Mustang had been the first person to do that for him after his and Al’s attempt at human transmutation, and it meant more than Ed had ever been able to say.They’d always spoken straight with each other, and he saw no reason to stop now. “Not normal, maybe, but we’ve had a lot of crazy stuff going on,” Ed told him, “so this is just more of the same.”

He found he couldn’t wait to catch Roy up. He wondered what Roy would think of their attempt to capture Gluttony, of him facing off against Kimblee, of everything on the Promised Day.

Which… well, that made him think of flame alchemy, and Al’s words, and Ed felt considerably less excited to talk about that.

“I’m proud of you,” Roy said, at length, and Ed startled. “I’m so proud of you for giving up your alchemy to save your brother. Getting him back that way instead of with a philosopher’s stone, it was the right thing to do, even though I know it must’ve been hard. I’ve always known that you would make a better state alchemist than me, and—”

“Don’t.” Ed couldn’t handle hearing this, not right now. “I’m sorry, but don’t say that. You aren’t… you can’t be proud of me.” You don’t even know yet, what I’ve done. How I’ve betrayed you. “I’m so sorry.”

Roy’s eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Of course I can,” he said. “I… Edward, if this is about our last conversation—”

“No,” Ed cut him off, and then, “well, yes, I’m sorry about that, too, but. That’s not what I meant.” He took a deep breath. If he didn’t say it now, he knew he never would. “I… I used flame alchemy, today.”

Clearly, wherever Roy had expected this conversation to go, that took him by surprise. He paled a little, and when he replied his voice was far too quiet. “What?”

“I had to,” Ed told him in a rush; now he found he couldn’t get the explanation out quick enough. He needed Roy to understand that he’d never wanted to, that he didn’t have a choice. “I don’t know if you ran into any of those… those things when you got out, those mannequins. But nothing else was working, and there were so many of them, and Riza had your gloves, and… and—”

“Fullmetal. Slow down.” Roy lifted his hands. “Are you okay?”

Ed almost laughed at the ridiculousness of the question—because no, he wasn’t, but once again Roy shouldn’t be the one asking after everything he’d been through—but he couldn’t manage to find it funny. Not right now. “You’re not… mad?” The words didn’t fully capture his fear. Inside his head, he asked a different question. I didn’t let you down?

“Mad?” Roy echoed, bewildered. “Why on earth would I be mad at you?”

For several seconds, Ed just stared at him, at the honesty on his face. “You… you never wanted me to use flame alchemy.”

“No, I didn’t,” Roy admitted, and Ed flinched at the honesty there, too. “But it doesn’t sound like you wanted to, either.”

The first time Ed had seen Roy’s alchemy in action, had seen him silhouetted against a fire bright enough to rival the sun and tall enough to touch the sky, Ed had wanted to. He’d begged Roy to let him, and he hadn’t understood the answer he got. But he understood, now. Those mannequins had still sounded human as they burned, even though Ed had known they weren’t.

“No,” he said. “No, I haven’t wanted to try it since I was a kid.”

Roy smiled at him, a little sad. “Edward,” he said softly, “you still are a kid.”

Ed didn’t know what to say to that. He hadn’t felt like a kid in a long, long time.

“Even then, though, you were already so talented. You never needed flame alchemy to make you strong.” Roy sighed. “Not like I did.”

Hadn’t Roy heard him? “But I did need it,” Ed insisted. “Without it, I couldn’t—”

“I think these count as extenuating circumstances, Fullmetal,” Roy told him, voice still fond. Ed still felt like he didn’t deserve the open affection. “You used flame alchemy to save your life, to save the lives of people you care about, people I also care about. How could I be angry with you? I’m just glad that you’re okay.”

“That’s what Al told me you’d say,” Ed grumbled. He’d never hear the end of this. From either of them.

“As usual, your brother was right,” Roy said. “And I’m glad he’s okay, as well.” He paused, and seemed to consider his next words carefully. “I didn’t want you to use flame alchemy because I didn’t want you to have to. It’s not an… easy power to hold in the palm of your hand. But you only used it when it was strictly necessary, when Riza suggested it.”

Ed winced, less because of Roy’s words than because of what he now had to say. But he did have to, here and now, or he’d regret it later. “I used it because we didn’t have another way out, and then I gave Hawkeye the gloves back.” He squeezed his eyes shut, unwilling to see Roy’s reaction. “But I asked for them again when Envy came into the room.”

He hadn’t told Al that. Hadn’t been able to bring himself to.

“Ah.”

Ed’s eyes flew open, and he wilted further at the look on Roy’s face. Not quite disappointment, but close enough to still make Ed feel guilty.

“Scar told me,” Ed explained, a little desperate for Roy to understand, like he had before. Before Ed messed it up again. He always messed things up between them. “That Envy was the one who… who killed you.” At the very least, he could carry out Roy’s earlier request of not mincing words when it came to his ‘death.’ “I was so… so mad. And part of me just didn’t want them to hurt anyone else, but another part of me… wanted them to pay. The Lieutenant didn’t let me, though. She and Hughes didn’t want me fighting Envy at all. So… I left, because I wouldn’t have been able to control myself if I stayed.” And Ed didn’t regret that choice, he couldn’t, but he was then hit with a realization. “That’s why I wasn’t with them, when they found you.”

When Roy had to face Envy again. When Roy was threatened with losing the loved ones he’d just gotten back. When Roy was forced through the gate.

Ed hadn’t been with him for any of it. If he had, though, would anything have gone differently?

“I won’t fault you for that,” Roy said. For a moment, it seemed as if he was responding to Ed’s thoughts rather than his vocalized desire for his revenge. “Especially when you had the strength to walk away. I almost couldn’t do that myself, when faced with Envy, and I can’t imagine how hard these past few months have been for you. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to help when you needed me.”

God, could he stop echoing Ed’s own feelings? He was supposed to be the sorry one, here, and besides— “You were,” Ed told him, and his voice didn’t leave any room for argument. “You were there, whenever Al and I need you, since you met us in Resembool. And all that time, I never told you…”

Ed trailed off. Took a deep breath. Started again.

“Our last conversation,” he began, “I never should have said that.”

He didn’t specify, because he didn’t have to. They both remembered.

“Since when have you ever wanted to help us? You only care about yourself.”

And Ed remembered Roy’s forlorn response, too. “I know you’d rather have Hughes’ assistance, but I’ll have to do. I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

“Fullmetal, it’s fine,” Roy said. “I know you didn’t mean—”

“No, I didn’t mean it, and it’s not true, but that doesn’t matter,” Ed interrupted, because maybe Roy didn’t need to hear this to forgive him, but Ed still needed to say it. “I crossed a line, and I hurt you. You didn’t deserve that.” He took another deep breath, and his eyes stung a little. “You always cared about us, and I always knew that, but I was… scared to admit it. To admit that I cared, too, because… well, because when I care about people, they usually get taken away from me somehow.”

Roy seemed at a loss for words, which Ed guessed was good, because he had more to say.

“And then you were taken away from us anyway,” he continued, and the tears that had gathered behind his eyes were beginning to spill over, now. Because he’d laid it out there, the real reason he’d kept Roy Mustang at arm’s length, and out loud it seemed like such a pitiful excuse. Because it hadn’t protected him at all. “And worse than that, it was my fault.”

This, Roy did have something to say about. Immediately. “Fullmetal, what happened to me was not your—”

“It was though,” Ed insisted, voice raising to drown out Roy’s protests. He didn’t want to hear them. “It was our research you were looking into when you get shot, because you don’t only care about yourself, you barely care about yourself at all! And instead of thanking you for your help, for all of your help since we left Resembool, I… I—”

“Edward.” Roy’s voice was also filled with emotion, and this, finally, made Ed stop. “I also regret the last time we spoke, and it was my choice to help you with your research, because I care about both of you. I don’t blame you for what happened, and you shouldn’t blame yourself.”

“Fine,” Ed allowed, “you don’t think it’s my fault.” He still didn’t believe it himself, but fine. “Either way, I should have told you how much it meant to me, that you supported us trying to get our bodies back. How much you meant to me.” Ed took a stuttering breath, and scrubbed a hand across his face. “And I’m so sorry it took losing you to make me realize that.”

Roy had tears in his eyes, too, and Ed had the ridiculous notion to wipe them away. But he waited for Mustang’s answer, first.

In the end, all Roy said? “You didn’t lose me.”

This simple fact and the way it made everything better startled a laugh out of Edward, even if it was a little wet. Because that cut right to the core of it— Ed had beat himself up for his last words to Roy, but they hadn’t been his last words, after all. He hadn’t lost him.

Ed didn’t want to wait any longer, but he still approached slowly, carefully, instead of just launching himself at Mustang like last time. Roy was injured, and couldn’t see him besides, and Ed wanted to give him time in case he didn’t want to be touched.

But he just opened his arms, and Ed sagged into them. He knew Roy could keep him afloat.

“Fullmetal, you make it sound like you missed me,” Roy told the top of his head, voice fond. Itmade Ed’s chest warm to know that they could still fall back on their usual banter, even if they weren’t holding each other at arm’s length anymore. Arm’s length, Ed reflected while holding onto Roy a little tighter, is way too far.

“Yeah, well. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, or whatever the hell people say,” he mumbled into Roy’s shirt.Months ago, even that would’ve felt like too much of an admission, let alone the hug.

After several comfortable moments of silence, Roy spoke again, a little more hesitant this time. “Edward,” he began, “you mentioned Resembool, before, and I wanted to ask you—”

Ed’s head shot up. “You’ll come with us, won’t you?” he asked, speaking in enough of a rush that Roy jumped a little. “When we go? Al and I are planning to go see Winry as soon as he can travel. You could come get fitted for automail, and since we’d probably stay there for a while anyway we can be with you for a lot of the recovery process. I’ll… well, I’d call and ask, except we sort of want it to be a surprise, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

“That… is a very kind offer, Fullmetal,” Roy said. “I’d love to speak with Miss Rockbell about my automail prospects.” Ed wrinkled his nose, but he had to admit he found the respectful address of Winry sweet. “But I was actually going to ask about Havoc. Riza… excuse me, Lieutenant Hawkeye just told me that he lost his ability to walk in the fight with Lust.”

Ed had grinned at the use of Hawkeye’s first name in contrast, but it fell off his face at Roy’s words. He couldn’t very well tease him right now, not when he knew what Roy was going to ask. “He did,” Ed told him. “You’re wondering if we could get him set up with automail, too?”

Roy nodded. Ed sighed.
“We looked into that, but… but Lust severed his spine. There would be no nerves for the automail to connect to.”

Roy nodded again, but something in his expression had splintered. “I thought that might be the case, or he would have automail already. Still, I would be remiss if I hadn’t asked.”

Ed grimaced. “I’m sorry. I wish—”

“Hello.” They both jumped, they both recognized the voice, and Ed whirled around.Scar stood in the doorway, one hand raised as if he’d been uncertain whether he should knock before entering. “I can… return later, if I am interrupting, but I need to speak with Mustang.”

Ed couldn’t shove down the sudden anxiety in his gut when he thought about Scar speaking with Roy alone. He also couldn’t shove down the thoughts of Winry, and the gun, and that rooftop in Briggs. Or of Roy, and the rain, and the deal he’d made. He tried his best to sound normal when he said, “You can talk now. I’d like to hear what you have to say, too.”

Judging by the unimpressed look on Roy’s face, he knew what Ed was up to, but at least he didn’t call him on it. For which Ed was grateful.

Scar seemed to consider this for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, perhaps that would be best,” he agreed. Ed squared his shoulders, but even that didn’t properly prepare him for what came next. “Marcoh has a philosopher’s stone. He wishes to use it to heal Roy’s leg and eyesight, and I agree.”

Ed just stared at him, stunned. He’d known that Ling had ended up with a stone, and that Al had used a different one, but even so… he still hadn’t even considered this a possibility. The more he did consider it, though, and the more he thought about his brother’s earlier words, the more he found he agreed as well. Roy hadn’t chosen to go through the gate, and he shouldn’t be punished for the rest of his life for someone else’s decision. Not when Doctor Marcoh had the power to help him.

Ed opened his mouth, an agreement on his lips, but Roy spoke first from behind him.

“I can’t,” he said, even as Ed turned around to protest, “I won’t.”

“Does he know?” Olivier demanded, her arms crossed, as Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye exited Mustang’s hospital room. The schoolgirl smile and flushed cheeks on the Lieutenant’s face only irritated Olivier further.

She’d stood in this hall for some time now, debating whether or not she wanted to confront Mustang while he still lay in a hospital bed, but she supposed it would be better to just ask Hawkeye.

Hawkeye, who shut the door behind her and met Olivier’s gaze with a now carefully blank expression. “Know what?”

Olivier did not have time for this. “Does he know that it was going to be you?” she asked, with a feeling she already knew the answer. “That in his absence, his people wanted to make you Fuhrer?”

“That,” Hawkeye said, her jaw set, “is hardly my first priority right now.”

“Amestris is in shambles,” Olivier pointed out, because someone had to. She knew everyone else wanted to act like the worst was over, and maybe it was, but they still had a lot of work to do. “So, no, I’m sure it’s not your first priority. It’s not mine, either.” She’d only come here after checking in on her injured men, after all. “But maybe it should be a little higher on your list.”

The Lieutenant scoffed. “If you want to take advantage of the turmoil to try and seize power for yourself, be my guest,” she said. “But right now, Roy is in no shape tothink about—”

“I don’t want it.” It was the truth, even if the story Roy’s team had spun to cover their own tracks would have made it near impossible for her, now. But she wanted to go back to Briggs. She wanted to go home.

Hawkeye, clearly, had not expected this. “What?”

“I don’t want it, but I heard you might,” Olivier told her. “And I came to tell you that you have my vote.” This was the truth, too. As much as she’d always despised Mustang—and even that had faded, after everything that had happened to him—she’d always felt nothing but respect for his stoic second-in-command. She seemed to clean up Mustang’s messes just fine, and so Olivier had faith in her ability to set the country straight. Amestris could also benefit from having a woman in charge.

Olivier had no illusions about Roy’s earlier words when she sat out of the fight. She knew they came from a place of ‘if everyone who is fighting dies, at least someone somewhat competent will be leftover’ rather than ‘you have my vote.’ He still wanted the top spot, she could smell it. The fight hadn’t been burned out of him, not even close.

But she didn’t know if that would hold true if it came down to a competition with his Lieutenant.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” As usual, Riza Hawkeye’s face gave nothing away. Olivier would almost have believed it, too, if she hadn’t caught the Lieutenant off guard at first. No matter—Hawkeye never stayed unbalanced for long. Olivier had no doubt she was already making a plan in her mind.

Good.

“Of course you don’t,” she said, “but I hope you’ll think about it anyway.”

Tiny fingers held one of Gracia’s own in a surprisingly firm grip, and tears sprang to her own eyes at the sound of her baby crying. Strong lungs, strong hands, and overall healthy despite the circumstances of the birth. She couldn’t have wished for anything more.

Well, she had, but then she’d had it granted to her. Maes stood at her side. She’d worried, earlier, that she might have to give birth to their second child without him. But he was here, and when she managed to take her eyes off of their baby he was already looking back at her.

To Gracia, this moment was already perfect. But she wondered at whether Maes felt the same.

“I know you wanted to name the baby after Roy,” she began, “and I wanted that, too, but… I think we’ll have to pick something else.”

They both looked back down at their daughter, and a smile sprang onto Gracia’s face unbidden despite the somewhat anxious feeling in her chest. How could she not smile, looking at her?

“We talked about names for a girl, too,” Maes said, and his voice gave away nothing. He leaned down over her head and kissed their daughter’s nose. “I know we hadn’t quite decided on a frontrunner, yet, but she’s a couple weeks early, so hopefully she can forgive us for that.”

Gracia hesitated. And, of course, her husband caught it.

“Hang on.” He pulled back, but just a little, just enough to get a proper look at her face. “You don’t think there’s any world where I could be disappointed, do you?”

She had wondered, until she heard him say it. And he must have seen it there on her face.

“Gracia,” he said, and pulled her close again. Her, and their newborn daughter. “This is one of the happiest days of my life. A little girl. Another little girl. God, Elicia’s going to love having a sister.”

She laughed, joy building in her heart at the thought of it, of Elicia, having a little sibling to share her childhood with. Of another pair of little feet running around their house, another pair of little hands holding her own, like right now. This was one of the happiest days of her life, too.

She wanted Elicia here, needed her entire family around her, but Maes had assured her that she would be safe with Armstrong, and so Gracia allowed herself to focus on the new baby for now.

“We should decide on a name, though,” Maes continued, and his attention drifted back towards their little girl as if he couldn’t help it. “Do you have a favorite?”

Gracia shook her head. “‘Elicia’ was my pick. It seems only fair that you choose this baby’s name. I’m… just sorry we won’t be able to honor Roy in this way.”

“I wouldn’t trade this for anything,” Maes told her immediately. He moved his hand over hers, the one cradling their daughter’s head, and his fingers brushed gently over her knuckles. Almost as an afterthought, he added, “Besides, it would have gotten confusing anyway.”

Gracia frowned up at him. “Why?”

And Maes froze, with a look on his face that she couldn’t begin to make sense of, like the world had just reorganized itself around him. Gracia knew even before he spoke, because she knew her husband, that what she’d thought was a simple question when it came out of her mouth had an answer she wouldn’t be ready for.

She still needed to hear it, though, and he knew it, too.

“I have to tell you something,” he began, clearly keeping his voice steady for her benefit. “It’s nothing bad, in fact it’s… it’s good news. And it’s going to sound impossible, but I need you to hear me out anyway, because I promise it’s the truth.”

Gracia’s hold tightened, both on his hand and on their daughter. Maes said it would be good news, and she trusted him, but … that look on his face. “Okay.”

He sighed, low and long. “I didn’t want to tell you so soon after the baby,” he said, almost as if to himself, then shook his head. “But you’d find out anyhow.” He drew back just far enough to look her in the eye, to catalogue every detail of her reaction, as he slowly took the baby from her. Only when she was in Maes’ arms did he say, “Roy’s alive.”

She understood now, why he’d frozen. Gracia couldn’t move, her thoughts running too fast for her body and her breathing to keep up. Her thoughts, which seemed to reflect the denial she’d felt when she’d first heard the opposite news.

Just like then, Gracia’s gut wanted to reject the words, even though she could see the truth of them all over her husband’s face. In this case, though, to voice her objection aloud would have been even more cruel. Roy can’t be alive, she wanted to say, but… she also wanted this to be real so, so badly. She wanted it for him.

She wanted Roy back for her husband, for Hawkeye, and for the Elric brothers, who were still just children, though it seemed that everyone often forgot that. She wanted Roy back for her own children, because she would have been lying if she said that the thought of raising a child who didn’t know what her big sister meant when Elicia said ‘Uncle Roy’ killed her, just a little. And she wanted Roy back for herself.

Gracia had loved Roy, too, even if the weight of her own grief had paled in comparison to what she carried on Maes’ behalf. If she let herself lay that burden down, especially after so long, she knew she wouldn’t have the strength to pick it back up again if… if Roy was still gone.

She wanted Roy back, and she wanted the man who her husband had been before losing him back, too. And because Maes Hughes was her husband, because he was the love of her life, she believed him.

She wanted to believe him, despite her head telling her not to give in to false hope. And in the wake of the miracle that was their daughter’s early but healthy birth, she could believe it. She could take the words at face value, and she could bite her tongue on the questions boiling to the surface of her stomach because she knew he would explain in his own time.

Still. The questions burst to life in her head all the same, with all the other thoughts that Gracia still couldn’t seem to catch up to. Questions like how and when did you find out and where was he all this time what happened to him is he okay is he really—

“They faked his death,” Maes said. “They kept him locked up for… for months, and they—”

His voice broke, and he shook his head. Swallowed hard. Gracia still knew relatively little about the conflict he’d had to resolve today, but she didn’t need to know that right now, so she didn’t ask. One of her questions took precedence.

“You don’t need to tell me right now, if you don’t want to talk about it.” She brought a hand up to caress his face, to make him meet her gaze again. Never mind what either of them wanted, he looked like talking about whatever had happened to Roy caused him physical pain. He looked like he couldn’t even stand to think about it. But she had to know, at the very least, “Is… is he okay?”

Maes’ barely there composure crumbled, and he sagged onto the bed beside her as he allowed himself to completely break down. Gracia gently took their daughter back from him, and when his hands were free he wept into them, shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs.

She had only seen him like this once before.

It seemed that his feelings mirrored his grief, too. Still mourning Roy. Mourning everything that had happened to him while they’d all thought he died a quick and painless death.

“I’m sorry,” Maes managed through his tears. “I’m so happy he’s not gone, but… but he’s not okay. And I’m not okay either, I don’t think any of us are, and I’m sorry.”

Gracia set her jaw, and held their daughter a little tighter. “What do you have to apologize for?”

Maes gestured at himself. “That I’m like this on the day our daughter was born,” he said, as if it should be obvious. As if she could ever have expected him to just take news like this in stride, news that had rocked her to her core. “This is supposed to be a happy day.”

“It is a happy day,” Gracia insisted. “And Roy being alive is a part of that.” Even if it was somewhat of a sad day as well. But that was always going to be true. Roy had returned to them today, but Gracia knew just from the bustling halls of the hospital that a lot of people had been lost today, too.

“You’re right,” Maes said, after a short while. When he looked back up at her, his face was dry. “Of course you’re right. This… this is one of the happiest days of my life.” He sounded like he believed it, even though he still had that broken edge to his voice.

Well, Gracia had made up her mind about how to solve that. “Can we see him?”

He just stared at her. “Gracia, you just gave birth. You shouldn’t be leaving your bed, let alone leaving the room.”

She had a solution for that, too, but he interrupted the second she opened her mouth, cognizant of what she might say.

“I’m not leaving this room, either,” he told her. “And I’m also not letting Roy out of bed yet, so we can’t. He’s in good hands with Hawkeye.”

Gracia nodded. “That’s good. She’ll know what he needs.”

“Of course she will, she loves him.” At Gracia’s look, a smile returned to Maes’ face. “And he loves her too, of course. I think they’re finally sick of keeping it a secret.”

“It was never a secret. Anyone with eyes could see that.” Maes’ mouth twisted, the smile dropped, and Gracia found herself frowning as well. “What?” What had she said wrong?

“Nothing,” he muttered, and shook his head. “You’re right. They mean the world to each other, and you mean the world to me. We’re all exactly where we should be, right now.”

“I hardly think you need to flatter me, Maes Hughes,” Gracia told him, unimpressed. “I just gave birth to our second child.” But she did always know what would help him, and she knew he probably needed to hear it. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“So, maybe you’ll listen to me when I say I think you need to go see Roy,” she said, and held up a hand when he began to protest. Her turn to interrupt. “It doesn’t have to be now, but soon. It seems like you’re struggling to assure yourself that he’s really alive and well if you’re not with him. I can’t say I blame you.” She paused. “And honestly, I don’t know if I can feel assured of it myself until you check on him and report back.”

“You’re just saying that,” he insisted. “You don’t want me to go.”

“Maes, I’ve never wanted you to go,” she said, and it couldn’t be a surprise. To go to Ishval, to go after Roy’s killer, to go against the very people in charge of Amestris. To leave home at all, under any circumstances, if it meant he would be in danger. “But after all this time, is it so hard to believe that sometimes I just want what you want?” She’d married a man in the military, and she’d known what that might mean when she’d taken her vows. For better or worse.

“And it’s not like it was before,” she continued. “You’re not putting yourself in danger, even though I know I can’t ask you not to do your job. You’d just be checking up on your best friend. I’ve never taken issue with you doing that, and I never will.”

For a moment, he just looked at her, but the way he looked at her? Several years and two children between them, and he could still make her blush. “I love you.”

“You said that already,” she reminded him, and pressed a kiss to the top of their daughter’s head, who had begun to stir a little in her blanket. “I don’t know whether Roy or I will be up and about first, but I’m serious about wanting to see him as soon as possible. He’ll have to meet her.”

Maes looked down at their little girl again, and the open adoration on his face only grew. “If you’re serious about wanting me to pick her name, I might have an idea.”

“What do you mean, you can’t?” Ed demanded. “Why not?”

“Edward, you can’t seriously expect me to use a philosopher’s stone this selfishly,” Roy said, tone calm and reasonable. This, paired with the fact that Scar didn’t seem surprised in the least, only served to make Ed angrier. “There are far more important things that Doctor Marcoh could do with—”

“Bullshit,” Edward interrupted, and Scar looked between them, as if unsure whether him speaking again would be welcome. Doctor Marcoh had followed him into the room, as well, and looked equally as uncertain. “You just don’t think you deserve the help.”

“I’m perfectly capable of seeking help without needing to use a philosopher’s stone,” Roy told him. “We just discussed me accompanying you to Resembool, and I’m far more comfortable with—”

“Nothing about automail is comfortable,” Ed snapped, even though it wasn’t Roy he was angry at. “The process is long and painful; I don’t want to see you go through that if you don’t have to.” And what could he or Winry do to help with Roy’s lost eyesight? “Besides, you didn’t go through the gate of your own volition. The homunculi did that to you, why not use their stone to fix it?”

“A stone made out of human souls? Fullmetal, you yourself refused to use it.”

Ed clenched his jaw. “It’s different.”

“Because I didn’t go through the gate?” Roy asked, and seemed to take Ed’s silence as an answer. “I didn’t lose my leg from Truth, Edward, I lost it because I tried to run away.”

As if that made it better, instead of worse. As if that made it Roy’s fault, instead. As if the thought of Roy being stuck alone in that place and trying to escape because he knew no one was coming for him and being punished for it didn’t destroy Edward, just a little.

“What about your eyesight?” Ed demanded, because he needed to make Roy understand. Needed to make him change his mind. “That was Truth’s fault, and automail can’t fix that. You should at least use the stone to—”

“I’ve grown accustomed to functioning in the dark these last few months,” Roy said, voice flat. “I’m sure I’ll manage.”

Ed just stood there, hands shaking so badly that he had to clench them into fists. The long fingernails on his right arm dug into his palm, hard, but he barely felt it.

“Liar.” Two could play this game, and they’d played it before—seeing how far they could each push the other with their words. The irony was not lost on Edward that he’d just gotten to apologize for that, but he didn’t mind having to apologize again later if it meant Roy got his sight back. “I saw you, when you’d just had your vision taken away from you. You were terrified. You need this.”

Please don’t make me watch you suffer any more than you already have, he begged inside his head. Please, just do it. Be selfish.

And the irony of that thought was not lost on Ed either—he’d accused Roy of being selfish plenty of times, and sometimes he was, but more often than not he needed convincing to put himself first. Ed was determined to convince him, now.

At the very least, he didn’t have to do it alone.

“I created this with Ishvalan lives,” Marcoh began, and moved past Scar farther into the room. He pulled the stone out of his pocket, and the sight of it still unnerved Ed. “I cannot pretend to know what they would want, but Scar and I spoke about it, and we both want you to use it. Let me heal you with this stone, and thereby help you to heal Ishval.”

Roy was already shaking his head, but Scar cut in before he could continue to protest.

“Mustang, I have come to know you as a man of your word,” he said, and his voice gave nothing away. “And so I hope you still intend to assist with the reestablishment process of Ishval.”

Roy made a noise like he had been punched. “Of course I do,” he replied immediately, as Ed also took several immediate and involuntary steps toward him, anger already fading in the face of how much pain the decision caused Roy. “I will. Nothing that has happened was ever going to change that, but I… I don’t know if I can use their souls to do it. And that’s not a lack of willingness to continue fighting, it’s about what I’ve already done. I want to rebuild, not to do more damage first just because it will help me.”

Silence, for several moments, and then, “You would not be causing more damage,” Scar told him. “They are already dead. The damage has been done. I cannot speak for their individual wishes any more than Doctor Marcoh can, but I will say that if it were me, I would want that to mean something. I believe there would be no better use for this stone than aiding Ishval. Do not take that away from my people, both the ones who were killed for the creation of this stone and the ones who may yet live to see a better world.”

Tears had begun to form at the corners of Roy’s unseeing eyes, and Ed realized in that moment that maybe Roy not wanting to use the stone was him being a little selfish, after all. A man who already thought he was a monster, reluctant to sink any further.

“Lieutenant Hawkeye told me that you promised yourself you’d rebuild Ishval, before you became Fuhrer,” Ed reminded him, and his voice had turned much softer without him meaning it to. At least Roy didn’t call him on it. “I know you still mean to do that, and I know you could do it without your leg and without your eyesight, but you shouldn’t have to. Scar is right, the stone already exists. We can’t go back in time and change that, but we can use it for the future you want to see.” Ed remembered Pride’s words, and his own eyes stung. “From where I’m standing, this will make that future a hell of a lot easier to reach.”

Roy’s body language had lost some of its tension, but Ed still didn’t know what to make of the look on his face.

“And not that this really matters,” Ed added, “but I won’t think any less of you, if you do this, and I don’t think anyone else would, either. I’ll get Hawkeye right now if you don’t believe me.”

Roy tilted his head up and let out what might have been a laugh, if it didn’t sound so wet.

“I believe you have the power to restore Ishval, and clearly I’m not the only one,” said Doctor Marcoh. “Right now, I have the power to help you do that, to restore you to full strength. The philosopher’s stone has enough power to left to heal both your vision and your leg.”

At these words, Roy’s head snapped back down, his expression alight with an interest that hadn’t been there before. “Enough power left?” he echoed, slowly. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you know how the homunculi can only be killed when their stones run out of juice,” Edward said. “I guess this one is pretty close to tapped out already, huh, doc?” No surprise there, after what Alphonse had told him. He wondered if it would make Roy feel better to know that Al had also used a philosopher’s stone, but Ed didn’t want to complicate the conversation further.

Regardless, it suddenly didn’t seem like Roy would need further convincing. His entire demeanor had changed, and Ed saw eagerness where before there had been none.

He nodded once, accepting this information, and when he spoke again his voice left no room for further argument. “I’ll allow you to heal me with the stone, Doctor,” he said, “on the condition that we use it for something else first.”

Marcoh looked confused, and Scar a bit apprehensive, but Ed already knew what Roy meant.

“Havoc,” he breathed, and at Roy’s answering grin Ed wished he’d suggested it himself. “You want him to heal Havoc first.”

Roy shrugged, still smiling. “I’ll need my team back if I’m going to get to work, won’t I?”

Though Riza had sworn that she wouldn’t leave Alphonse’s side, she didn’t think Edward would mind her guarding the door to the room instead. Not under the current circumstances.

Mei, the girl who had saved Riza’s life just hours ago, had burst into the room with a breathless intensity. Her eyes had immediately locked on Alphonse, and when she found him awake she seemed like she might collapse on the spot with relief. And then Riza had turned, had seen how Al looked at her, and figured she should probably give them some space to talk.

She shut the door behind her and took up the familiar post beside it. And not very long after, it proved the perfect place for her to be—she heard a familiar voice echoing down the hall.

“Where is he?” Havoc demanded, with a white knuckled grip on the wheels of his chair as he came down the hallway. “Is he in there?” He tilted his head towards the door behind her.

Riza was startled to see that he’d arrived so quickly, and so it took her a moment too long to reply. Havoc did not seem to want to wait.

“The Colonel, is he in there?” Havoc asked again, with more of that desperate urgency that she understood so well. His eyes were wide, his face pale. “Can I see him?”

“His room’s not far down the hall,” Riza told him. Around the corner, actually, so she wasn’t sure why a nurse would have pointed Havoc this way, assuming he’d stopped to talk to a nurse at all.

Looking at him, out of breath and wild-eyed, she figured he probably hadn’t. She couldn’t blame him, though. Or the nurses, who had their hands full.

Havoc made to wheel right past her, and Riza moved to partially block his path. “Hang on,” she said, and continued at his displeased expression. “Edward’s with him right now, and I promised I would keep an eye on Alphonse until he got back. We can go see Roy together, after.”

“You’ve seen him already,” he pointed out, “and I don’t want to wait any longer. I was ready to pull my hair out on the train, not to mention the months of thinking…”

He trailed off, shook his head, and visibly regained a bit of his composure.

“Anyway.” Havoc cleared his throat. “I’m sure Alphonse will be fine, even if the chief hasn’t gotten the chance to fix his armor up yet.”

His armor? Ah.

She supposed that when she’d called Havoc back she should have given him more information to go on. In her defense, Riza had led with what she deemed the most important news—Roy being alive. Havoc had asked which hospital and hung up rather quickly after that.

She didn’t see any sense in beating around the bush. It hadn’t spared any of Roy’s feelings when he’d heard about Havoc, anyway. “Alphonse has his body back.”

That got him to stop. To turn and stare at her, eyes impossibly wide. “You mean… they did it?”

Riza nodded, glad to share good news that wasn’t eclipsed by lingering grief. “Al’s got his body back, and Ed’s got his arm. Not his leg, but Idon’t think he cares about that. Not now that his brother is whole again.” Later, he would want to be filled in on the details, the how. But Riza still remembered the moment that Alphonse gave up his soul to give Ed a fighting chance, the moment they thought they might lose both of the Elrics entirely. Havoc didn’t need to hear that, right now.

Thankfully, he didn’t ask about that. “You said the chief is talking to Roy? I guess you’re right, I can wait. I wouldn’t want to interrupt.” Havoc paused. “He’s okay, though, right? And the brothers?”

Riza didn’t know where to start, with that particular question. “There’s… a few things I should warn you about, before we go in there.”

He’d hung up, after all, before she could fully prepare him for the day’s aftermath. Before she could properly explain about Roy’s leg, about his eyes. Before she could mention that Edward had used flame alchemy, and it had nearly killed him, and now he’d never be able to do alchemy again, and Riza didn’t know which was worse.

She talked him through some of it, the worst of it, slowly. She watched his face pale further as he absorbed it, his throat work around a painful swallow as he forced down whatever he wanted to say.

When she finished, Havoc only offered a stilted nod, and was silent for several more moments.

“I figured he’d be hurt,” he said, finally. “You told me you were in a hospital, after all, and I knew it had to be bad, because it’s Roy. And because of the homunculi. And because he’s been gone for… for so long." He paused again, seeming to steel himself further. “I won’t ask him about it. I won’t bring it up at all, unless he does first. I’ll act like everything’s fine, if you think that will help him. He’s alive. That’s what I care about, right now, and I just want to see him.”

“Well,” Riza said, her voice only a little unsteady, “you’re taking the news better than I did.”

Havoc let out a somewhat strained laugh at that, but before he could reply, Edward rounded the corner. His eyes lit up when he saw them.

“Good, you’re both here.” Ed was already reaching for Riza, but he paused when he noted the shut door behind her. “Al okay?”

“Mei is with him,” Riza told him, and tried to shove down the immediate panic in her chest. Ed didn’t look panicked himself, but why would he have come to fetch her unless something had happened to Roy? “Edward, what is it?”

The corners of his mouth, which had gone up when she mentioned Mei Chang, abruptly turned downward again. “Just come with me,” he said. “I need you to talk some sense into Mustang.”

To Havoc’s credit, he didn’t react beyond clenching his jaw when he saw the state Roy was in; paler and skinnier than any of them had seen him last, with bandages and bruises in several places. He steeled himself with a deep breath first, but his voice was steady when he spoke. “Hey, Colonel.”

“Havoc,” Roy breathed, with a grin. It faltered when he heard the unmistakeable sound of Havoc wheeling into the room, but only a little. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

“Yours too,” Havoc said. “Hawkeye called and told me, and I got on the next train, but I guess I didn’t really believe her until now. “I’m— what the hell is he doing here?” He’d turned to take stock of the room after tearing his eyes away from Roy, and discovered Scar.

Riza winced. “He’s on our side,” she said. So she’d forgotten to mention that part, too, but she hadn’t expected to find Scar in Roy’s hospital room. She didn’t trust him that much herself yet, and she didn’t know if she ever would, but Roy clearly did. “He’s helped us a lot today.”

“I don’t much care what he’s done today,” Havoc told her, before anyone else could elaborate. “Am I the only one who remembers that he tried to kill Roy months ago?”

“I remember,” Edward said, with an unreadable glance at Scar. “But right now, we need to hear Scar out. He can help Roy, and you both need to help me convince—”

Havoc wasn’t done. “You left him on babysitting duty? Him? Anything could have happened!”

“I have no intention of hurting Mustang,” Scar told him, but Riza could see that it only made Havoc more upset. Before she could say anything to defuse the tension, however, Roy spoke up.

“Babysitting?” he echoed, incredulous. “I don’t need to be looked after, I’m not a child.”

“Oh, you’re not allowed out of our sight for a good long while, I can promise you that,” Havoc snapped, and Roy wilted a little, which Riza did not care for. “Especially not—”

“Havoc,” Riza interrupted, voice sharp. “Enough.”

She understood his ire, and she had a guess at where it came from.

All of them often forgot that Havoc was the one who was supposed to be with Roy the night of his death, who was supposed to guard him. All of them except for Havoc himself. Roy had sent him home early that night, and Riza knew that he had spent no small amount of time reliving the choice to leave his side. She knew, because she’d done the same thing.

To see Roy left alone with Scar, who they’d all considered the prime suspect upon hearing of Roy’s murder, no doubt brought back some of those memories. Riza understood this, too, because now that she had Roy back she was terrified of losing him a second time. She’d had to face that fear, though, when the homunculi had torn him away from her and sent him through the gate, and she’d have to keep facing it.

Roy Mustang wouldn’t want to be treated like broken glass. And Havoc knew that.

“I… I’m sorry Colonel,” Havoc said, and his face paled. He wheeled farther into the room, all the way to Roy’s bedside. Consequently, this also put him between Mustang and Scar, but Riza didn’t think anyone took note of that except for her. Edward had taken a step forward when Havoc raised his voice, but still he continued to hover in the doorway. “I shouldn’t… it’s not you I’m angry at, and it’s not even him, not really.” He sent Scar a wary but rueful glance. “I’m so, so glad you’re alive, but I think I’m a little angry, too.” He paused. Sniffled. “At myself, mostly, for believing the lie.”

“We all believed it,” Riza told him, and placed what she hoped would be a comforting hand on his shoulder. Now was not the time to talk about Scar’s deception. “But we can make up for it now. Breathe, Havoc.”

“None of you have to make up for anything,” Roy said, and continued before Riza could protest about all that lost time, about him trapped and alone. “I understand why you’re upset, since you don’t know what he’s done to help us. And trust me, there will be plenty of time to swap stories later, because I know a great deal happened that I wasn’t here for, but right now we need to talk about something else, something important. It’s why Scar is here.”

Riza cast Edward a sideways glance, but he didn’t take his eyes off of Roy, mouth set into a thin line. She couldn’t be sure that he wasn’t avoiding her gaze deliberately.

“Tell them what you told me,” Roy said, gesturing in Scar and Doctor Marcoh’s vague direction. Riza turned to them expectantly, but thankfully they got straight to the point.

“I have a philosopher’s stone,” Marcoh said, and went so far as to hold it up. “It doesn’t have much power left, but I believe it has enough to heal Mustang’s eyesight and leg.”

Riza’s heart jumped to her throat, apprehension and joy warring in her chest. She looked at Roy again. She couldn’t help it. So, she watched him steel himself for their response.

“He said he wouldn’t do it, at first,” Ed told her. “That’s why I came to get you. And Havoc, too, because—”

“Mustang has insisted that Marcoh use the stone on Havoc first,” Scar finished for him. “So that he might walk again.”

“No way in hell,” was Havoc’s immediate response, while Riza herself stood there in stunned silence. “We’re not using the stone on me first, especially if we can’t guarantee it’ll have enough juice left to heal Roy. Absolutely not.”

“Havoc, be reasonable,” Roy said, which didn’t seem like the best way to convince him to do so, judging by Havoc’s expression. “You being able to walk is more important to me than me being able to see.”

“Well, I disagree.”

Roy sighed. “You would, wouldn’t you.”

“You’re damn right I would,” Havoc snapped, and Riza heard real anger there in his voice, fighting its way past his relief. “If you’re going to be Fuhrer someday, you’re going to need to be operating at full strength. My legs aren’t going to be running this country, I can do without them just fine. I have been for months.”

Roy’s face fell, a reminder of his misplaced guilt. Riza could hardly stand it— he knew they all felt the same way about what he’d endured in captivity, wishing they’d been there for him, and still he prioritized Havoc over himself.

This didn’t surprise her, of course, but his reply did. “Could all of you excuse us for a moment?” he asked. “I need to speak with Riza alone.”

She jumped, just a little, as she’d thought he meant for everyone but Havoc leave the room. Riza turned the conversation over in her head, but she still didn’t know what Roy would say once everyone else had filed out. They did so without much objection, though Havoc still looked frustrated and Ed gave her a meaningful look on his way out. Convince him, it said.

“I heard what General Armstrong said,” Roy began, and Riza’s stomach dropped. “In the hall, before. She asked you if I knew.”

Every excuse she came up with died on her lips. Riza didn’t want to have this conversation while Roy was still recovering, but she couldn’t lie to him. “Did you hear the rest of it?”

“Yes,” and then, “why weren’t you going to tell me that it was going to be you?”

“Because it doesn’t matter now,” Riza told him, and realized that it was true. Hardly my first priority, she’d told Armstrong, because now Roy was here. Becoming the Fuhrer was his dream, and so it had also become hers, because all of her dreams had always been tied to him.

“Of course it matters?” Roy didn’t sound as if he had meant for it to come out as a question. “Is… that what you want?”

Riza frowned. “What do you want?” Because that had always been one and the same with what she wanted. She’d still follow him, if he still wanted to be followed. The only world in which she’d pictured herself as Fuhrer was a world without him in it, and thankfully she didn’t have to live in that world anymore.

“You.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

She rolled her eyes, even as she fought a smile of her own. “Yes, well, you have me,” she told him. “But besides that?”

“Of course I still want to fix this country,” he said. “But am I the best person to do it? Amestris is so broken, and... so am I.”

“You are not broken,” Riza said, horrified. “You are still the right person to fix do this, but you’re also allowed to focus on yourself first. In fact, you should. We don’t have to try and seize the top spot right now. You’ll keep working your way up, like we first planned.”

Roy didn’t seem convinced. “You said I’m one of the strongest people you know, Riza, but you’re so much stronger than me,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about what Olivier said, and I think she’s right. You could be a brilliant Fuhrer.”

“I could,” Riza told him, because she’d never been in the business of selling herself short. “But you would be better. You’re the one who’s meant to do it, and don’t you dare wonder whether you’re enough. Look at what you survived. If you could make it through that, you can make it through whatever comes next, and you can get to the top.”

Still, he hesitated. “That’s still my goal, of course it is. But if you wanted to be at the top, I would support you.”

“I wanted to do it for you,” she said, and brought up a hand to touch his face. “I never really wanted it for myself.”

“I never really wanted it for myself, either,” he admitted.

“I know. That’s why it should be you. That’s why I’ll always follow you.”

Roy shook his head. “No more of this following business,” he said. “You’ve always had my back, but I want you at my side from here on out. We’ll do this together, every step of the way.”

“Together,” Riza agreed. “And I’ll be your eyes, if you need them, because I hope you know that you can do this whether Marcoh heals you or not. You could be Fuhrer without your eyesight, and without your leg, and you’ll still be the most fit man for the job.”

Roy’s expression was equal parts hope and doubt. “You really believe that?”

“I believe it because it’s true,” she said. “But I don’t think you should have to go without those things. I know you’re in the habit of taking on heavy burdens and denying yourself anything that might make them easier, but after all this time, after everything you’ve been through, don’t you think you’ve earned this?”

She could see the last bits of reluctance leaving him. “I… I really do just want to see your face again,” he told her, sounding as if he were admitting defeat. “I’ll let Marcoh heal me, but he has to help Havoc first. Otherwise, no deal.”

Riza sighed. She took issue with the fact that Roy still seemed to think he was being selfish, while insisting that the stone be used on someone else first in the same breath. “I’m sure Marcoh will be easier to convince than Havoc,” she said. “But I can handle him.”

The door opened.

Roy sat up a little straighter when he heard footsteps reentering to the room. “Marcoh, we’ve decided. You’re not coming anywhere near me with that stone until you’ve healed Havoc.”

It wasn’t Marcoh or Havoc’s voice that answered him, though. “A philosopher’s stone?”

“Maes.” Roy couldn’t help it, he sagged again in relief. Hughes could always calm him down, and this was the first time he’d heard his best friend’s voice since he lost consciousness at the end of the battle. Which, upon further thought, he knew was for very good reason. “Wait, what the hell are you doing here? Gracia—”

“Gracia gave birth to a beautiful, healthy baby girl,” Maes said, “and I’ve been with them both for hours. She sent me to come check on you before I grab Elicia.”

Roy beamed. “That’s… that’s wonderful, Hughes, congratulations, I—”

“You are not dodging my questions by getting me to talk about my family,” Maes interrupted, voice soft but firm. “Not today, anyway. What’s all this about a philosopher’s stone?”

Roy desperately wished he could see Maes’ face as he explained it, desperately wanted to know what he thought about the whole thing. Riza helped lay out the situation, and so did the others when they returned to the room, but Maes remained uncharacteristically silent.

“He said he’d do it,” Edward said, when the quiet became too much. Clearly he intended to hold Roy to his word. “He has to. Tell him, Hughes.”

“And Marcoh should heal him first,” Havoc added, “not me.”

Maes hummed, as if considering this. “Well, what does the process look like?”

“Process?” Roy echoed, floored.

“Yes, the process. How long will it take, Doctor?” Maes asked. “Will it be painful?”

“It may be a bit… intense, but it shouldn’t be painful,” Marcoh said. “Philosopher’s stones are very powerful, so the results will be near immediate and any feelings of discomfort should not be long lasting. As far as phantom sensations or any chronic pain in the restored limbs that may linger from the original injury, I can not be sure, but I believe the sooner we act the better. Especially in the case of Roy’s blindness, which he sustained today.”

“All the more reason why you should use the stone on Roy first,” Havoc said. “Hughes—”

“Havoc, you want to be healed by the stone, correct?”

Havoc stopped short. “Well. Yes, but only after Roy. There’s not that much power left.”

“I’m not convinced Roy wants the stone used on him at all,” Maes said, and Roy felt a hand take his own. “Roy, none of us here are going to make you do something you don’t want to do.” Not after what the homunculi did. He didn’t say it, but Roy heard it.

Judging by the answering silence in the room, none of the others had thought about it that way. Roy couldn’t blame them; he hadn’t either.

“I do want to,” Roy assured him, because it was the truth, even though it still felt selfish. “I want my eyesight back.” More than anything. Well, more than almost anything. “Just not until Marcoh heals Havoc. Please.”

His voice broke on the last word, and Maes squeezed his hand. “If that’s what you want to do, then that’s what we’ll do,” he said, and his tone left no room for argument.

If Roy had any remaining reservations about the ethics of regaining his eyesight through the use of a philosopher’s stone, they evaporated when he listened to everyone else’s overjoyed reaction to seeing Havoc walk again.

Jean was quick to take the attention off of himself, however, insisting that Marcoh heal Roy right away only moments after he’d taken his first steps in months.

“Before you do that, let me go get Al,” Ed insisted. “He’d want to be here.” He rushed out of the room amid the sounds of metal clattering.

Before Roy could ask, Havoc snorted. “He took my wheelchair!”

“Well, you don’t seem to need it right now,” Riza pointed out, “but Alphonse might.” Roy could hear the smile in her voice, and he wanted to see that, too.

“So, Doctor Marcoh, how is this going to work?”

The room went silent again, and stayed that way too long for Roy’s liking.

“Doctor Marcoh?” Riza prompted, sounding far less uneasy than Roy felt.

“I apologize,” the doctor said, “but healing Lieutenant Havoc’s legs absorbed more of the stone’s power than expected, perhaps because of the amount of time that has passed since his initial—“

Havoc cut him off, voice tight. “Are you saying that you can’t heal Roy?”

“I can still heal Mustang, just… not to the extent we had discussed,” he said quickly. To Marcoh’s credit, he did sound apologetic. “He’ll have to pick one. His eyesight or his leg.”

“No.” Maes. “He should get to have both. How can you ask him to choose?”

The others took up the question as well— Havoc demanding that Marcoh find a way around it, Riza asking if he could have more time to think about it.

But Roy didn’t need time to think about it. To him, the right decision was obvious.

When Ed reentered the room, amid more clattering that clued Roy in to his presence, the arguing dropped back off into tense silence, and Roy was startled out of wandering thoughts.

“Woah,” Edward said. “What’s wrong?”

“The philosopher’s stone doesn’t have enough energy left to heal both Roy’s eyes and his leg,” Riza told him, straight to the point. “It has to be one or the other.”

Before this could upset either of the Elrics, Roy spoke up. “I want my vision back.”

Another pause, and then Maes’ voice, tentative. “Are you… are you sure? You don’t have to decide now—”

“Marcoh said the sooner the better,” Roy said. “And my answer isn’t going to change.”

He knew it wouldn’t. His leg, he’d long since learned how to live without. His eyesight he’d lost today, and he’d longed for it back every moment since.

He needed to see the outside world again, not just feel the fresh air on his skin. He needed to see the faces of the people he loved, not just hear their voices. It would anchor him, help convince him that the fight was really over, that he was really free.

“Truth blinded me when I went through the gate, and I didn’t choose to do that. Envy… I lost my leg when I tried to escape. A result of my own actions,” Roy said. He shrugged, then continued. “Besides, I already made plans to go to Resembool with Fullmetal.”

“Yeah, you can’t back out of that now,” Ed told him, then laughed. “You’d be depriving Winry of a customer.”

“Plus the two of you match,” Alphonse said, a laugh in his voice also, and Havoc chuckled as well. Roy smiled, listening to it. Maes was still holding his hand, and he felt another land on his shoulder. Riza.

“I want my vision back,” Roy said, again. “I’m ready.”

“Alright.” Marcoh’s footsteps approached. “Close your eyes.” And without further warning, he placed a hand over them.

Roy jumped, a little, and then startled again when the room lit up with red light as Marcoh began channeling the stone’s power. Because even without his eyesight, Roy could tell.

Like Marcoh had said, it wasn’t painful, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable, either. When the others asked, later, Roy still didn’t know how to articulate the feeling. Marcoh’s hand on his face grew warmer, and heavier, somehow, and a tingling began to build behind Roy’s eyelids that was akin to the pins and needles of a limb waking up.

But almost as soon as the pressure began, it stopped. Roy eyes still felt… odd, but he couldn’t help himself from opening them when Marcoh took his hand away. Immediately, fluorescent hospital lighting flooded his senses, and he shut them again.

“Your eyes will need to adjust,” Marcoh said, voice kind. “Just take it slow.”

Roy hesitated, this time, aware that his breathing had picked up and that everyone in the room would notice. His mind, which still struggled to believe most of the events of the past day, also found difficulty here. Yes, he’d opened his eyes and seen more than blackness, but the light had felt blinding and too bright. What if the stone hadn’t worked, not all the way? What if he still couldn’t see them?

In any case, Roy knew it would be worse to wait. He opened his eyes again.

The light rushed in, but Marcoh solidified in front of him. He smiled. Roy blinked, a bit startled, and then Marcoh stepped back so he could take in the whole room.

Scar lingered in the corner, where Marcoh rejoined him. He had dried blood on his clothes, which Roy knew must be from the fight with Bradley. How much was the late Fuhrer’s and how much had come from Scar himself Roy couldn’t be sure. He simply inclined his head when their gazes met.

Havoc stood near them both, but a little closer to Roy’s bed. Stood, on his own two feet. And he had a beard now, of all things. It suited him. Roy was thankful that he’d been allowed to shave, he didn’t think he could have pulled it off himself. Havoc was grinning from ear to ear, and he looked for all the world like he wanted to rush over and hug Roy right then, but he didn’t. Probably they all wanted to give him space, so he didn’t become overwhelmed.

They knew him well, and as much as Roy would need that hug later, he was still trying to take everything in.

When Roy’s eyes drifted to the other side of the room, to who lingered just inside the door, he felt the sting of tears begin to well up.

Fullmetal, also beaming, with an arm slung around his brother’s shoulder. An arm that, while scarred at the shoulder and rail-thin, was no longer made of metal. And his brother…

Alphonse Elric sat in Havoc’s discarded wheelchair, and the smile on his face was softer, more tentative. He was too thin, too pale—traits which Roy knew he shared now—and still the resemblance to Edward was unmistakeable. The same golden hair, the same eyes, they could have been twins, except Roy would hazard a guess that Al would still be taller, even out of his armor.

Roy had never gotten to see Al as anything but a suit of armor, before now. How could he have almost passed this up?

“I got my body back,” Alphonse said, and his smile grew into something a little stronger. “Or, I guess my brother did.”

Ed tightened his grip on Al. “We did it together.”

“I heard,” Roy breathed, “but I’m so glad I get to see it. To see you.” He meant to laugh, but it sounded more like a sob, if a happy one. “I’m so… happy to see all of you.”

The words didn’t feel like enough. There weren’t words for this moment. But it seemed that Alphonse understood, anyhow.

“We’re really happy to see you, too,” he told Roy. Simple, but true. That’s really what it all came down to, in the end.

“How do you feel?” Riza asked, at his shoulder, and Roy turned to look at her. The bandages and dried blood peeking out from under them didn’t come as a surprise, but she looked otherwise okay. She looked beautiful. He just stared into her face without answering for a moment, appreciating the fact that he could stare at her again.

How did he feel? With her next to him, he was at peace, in love, always. “I feel home,” Roy said. He was still exhausted and injured and mentally spent, but he wouldn’t change a thing.

“Well,” Maes said beside him, and Roy looked over as his best friend gave his hand another squeeze. Hughes’ glasses were cracked, but he was grinning, too. “If you’re feeling up for it, I know of a couple more people who’d really like to see you.”

Maes Hughes looked at his best friend look at his daughter, and felt as though a missing piece of himself had just clicked back into place. His family, all together in one room like this, it made him feel whole in a way he hadn’t in a long while. Not since Roy’s death had left him so empty.

Roy sat on the spare bed with the new baby cradled carefully in his arms, as if afraid of hurting her. His eyes were wide with wonder. Hawkeye stood at one of Roy’s shoulders, watching him, and Ed stood on his other side peering down at the baby. They counted as Maes’ family, too, after all of this, and he and Gracia had just made it official.

Alphonse moved closer to Roy’s bed in his wheelchair, and his brother shifted to give him more space. Elicia bounced around between all of them with a giddy sort of energy than only a three year old could have on a day like today. They’d left room in the circle for Maes, too, but he stood by his wife’s bed and held her hand as they both watched. Gracia had tears in her eyes.

So did he.

Before they’d come to Gracia’s room, Marcoh had taken Havoc to have some real tests done. Scar had split off from the rest of them, too, to go… wherever he had decided to go. Perhaps to rejoin the surviving Ishvalans, perhaps to find Mei, who was no doubt still in the hospital assisting patients however she could. But before he had left, he’d pulled Maes aside.

“I know you will never trust me around Mustang,” Scar had told him. “And I understand this, but for whatever my apology is worth, I am sorry I did not help him escape. I am sorry I did not tell the Elrics what I knew.”

As angry as Maes had been when he learned about that, he still didn’t think Scar owed him or Roy an apology for anything, after what he’d done today. Or more accurately, after what they’d done in Ishval. In fact, Maes should be thanking him for suggesting Roy use the stone.

Instead of saying so, Maes had shaken his head. “You gave him the choice, when he didn’t have a lot of choices available to him. You allowed him agency, and you kept your word. I don’t blame you for that. I was just… I missed him.”

Scar had put a hand on his shoulder, startling Maes slightly. “I know what it feels like to lose a brother,” he had said. “I am glad you have yours back.” And then he’d left, without another word.

Maes snapped back to the present. “We were going to name the baby after you,” he said into the silence, “if it was a boy.”

Roy’s gaze snapped up, met his, and he beamed. “I don’t see why you couldn’t name her Roy anyhow,” he replied, clearly shooting for his usual sarcasm though Maes could tell he was touched. “It’s a wonderful name.”

“Maybe he would’ve, if you’d stayed dead,” Ed muttered. “One Roy is plenty.”

Roy laughed, and Maes did not. Instead, he tried very hard not to flinch, but Roy was still looking at him, and he didn’t think he was quite successful.

“Are we joking about this?” Gracia asked, low enough that only Maes could hear, because of course she hadn’t missed his non-reaction either.

“Two Roys would be confusing,” Al put in, who still only had eyes for the baby. Maes had agreed, earlier, and meant to do so out loud, but he was still reeling a little from Ed’s remark.

“But not even as a middle name? I’m hurt, Hughes,” said Roy, utterly unconvincing. He looked the happiest Maes had seen him all day.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll get over it,” he said. “And I think you’ll like the name we chose instead. Hyacinth. We’ll call her Cynthia, for short.”

The sarcastic smirk dropped right off of Roy’s face, leaving something so open and vulnerable in its place that Maes almost had to look away. Something that said maybe he still didn’t quite believe any of this was real. “Hyacinths are my favorite flower.”

Maes smiled back at him. His eyes were wet. “I know.” He’d held onto that piece of Roy for months, laying white flowers on top of an empty grave, but Roy hadn’t thought he’d remembered it.

“Oh,” Roy said, and didn’t seem to know where to go from there. He held Cynthia a little closer, though.

“We hope you don’t mind,” Gracia told him, with a happy shrug. “They’re such a beautiful flower, and it makes such a beautiful name.”

“Mind?” Roy echoed. “No, I’m… I’m honored. She’s beautiful, and it suits her. Hyacinth Hughes.” His grin came back full-force. “It has a certain ring to it.”

“Well, good,” Gracia said, looking pleased with herself. “That’s exactly what we wanted to do, you know. Honor you. And Maes and I still wanted to do it, even though we have you back.”

Roy looked like he might cry again, and evidently Edward noticed it, too.

“Don’t be too flattered,” he said. “You may have won over Elicia, but this baby is going to like me way better than you.” Maes snorted, but he couldn’t deny the truth in it. Elicia had been all smiles since he brought Roy to Gracia’s room. “Guess who her godparents are?”

“You?” Roy looked scandalized. “You’re a teenager, you shouldn’t be parenting anyone! Hughes, tell me he’s lying.”

“What, was he supposed to pick you?” Ed asked, before Maes could reply. “You were dead!”

Maes did flinch, this time. He understood Ed was coping with his brash sense of humor, but… he didn’t think he’d ever be able to joke about it himself.

Roy seemed amused, though, and that was what mattered. “Of course not,” Roy said. “I can’t be the godfather of both children, that would be ridiculous. But I think your brother might have been a better choice.”

Alphonse preened, while Ed looked incensed. “Alphonse is younger than me!”

“It’s nice, seeing these two back to normal,” Gracia whispered to Maes, and he stifled another laugh. Riza looked like she was trying very hard to keep a straight face, too.

“Alphonse may be younger, but I’d sooner trust him with a newborn child.”

“Well, Hawkeye is Cynthia’s godmother,” Ed pointed out, “and she’s responsible enough for the both of us, so I think the baby’s in good hands.”

Roy turned his betrayed expression on Riza, who only smiled and gingerly took the baby out of his arms. She walked back over to Maes and Gracia.

Roy watched, and despite his false outrage Maes could see how pleased he was. “She is in good hands,” he admitted. “We’ll see if I ever name a child after you, though, Hughes.”

Ed looked unimpressed. “That sounds like an empty threat. Do you even want kids?”

“Uncle Roy already has kids,” Elicia said, as if it were obvious. She pointed right at Ed and Al.

Neither Edward nor Roy appeared to have a response ready for that. Alphonse, for his part, just started laughing again, and Riza smiled fondly. She handed Cynthia to Maes, who sat on the end of his wife’s bed, and Riza went back over to Roy’s. He still got a starstruck look on his face whenever she so much as took his hand. Ed didn’t seem able to keep pretending to be annoyed with his brother so happy next to him, but his face had gone slightly red.

“Elicia just knows we consider everyone in this room family,” Gracia said, an expert at smoothing conflict over even after just giving birth. “She’s probably a bit confused.”

Maes didn’t think his daughter was confused at all, in fact she’d probably heard him call the Elrics Roy’s kids, but he wasn’t about to volunteer that information now. “Okay, Roy,” he began instead. “Hawkeye should probably get you back to your own room before any of the doctors or nurses notice. You too, Alphonse.” He didn’t feel great about taking advantage of the overcrowded hospital and overwhelmed staff to ignore rules about visiting hours.

“Sure,” Roy said, but he was looking at the baby in Maes’ arms again. “But… could I just stay here for a little while longer?”

And when had Maes ever been able to say no to his best friend, really? Alphonse seconded the request with a small please, too, and so he folded immediately.

“Of course,” Maes told him. “I want you here, you idiot, I just also worry about your health.”

Truth be told, though, Maes didn’t want to let go of this moment, either, surrounded by the people he loved. As the sun set on the Promised Day, though, he reminded himself that this wasn’t temporary. He could finally let out a sigh of relief, let himself believe that the gifts this day had given him wouldn’t be snatched away again.

He knew it would take longer to convince Roy of that, but Maes didn’t mind. They had all the time in the world, and he’d be there every step of the way.