A sword, drenched in Greed's blood and thrown forcefully from an impossible distance, pinged sharply and shattered the stone wall beside Alphonse's slumped form. Greed watched, momentarily paralyzed, as his severed arm dislodged itself from the crevices of the boy's armor to fall heavily onto his lap with a sick thunk.

A guttural sound, a laugh if you've never heard one, pulled itself from Greed's throat, a thin barrier against the pain he'd used again and again during his long, violent life. With the strength of one whose mind has been broken against the vision of all the parts of himself strewn at his feet at one point or other, Greed slid his eyes from the severed limb to the catalyst.

Shit. He was too late. He should have ditched the kid faster, but his nature once again got the better of him, a constant battle against the desire to see his collection grow that he never quite got the hang of resisting.

Drawing on the cruel smile that shielded him from the worst of the world, Greed stood and sneered at his pursuer with the deep well of hatred nurtured and reserved for a select few, one of which stood before him now.

"Well, well," Greed said sardonically, grinding the rancid air through his teeth, ignoring the agony of his severed limb. "If it isn't Fuhrer King Bradley himself? Or should I say, Wrath."

Sour bile coated the back of Greed's throat as Wrath stood impassively in the center of the tunnel, heedless of the muck ruining his fine leather boots, sullying the trappings of a role Greed knew Wrath would never suffer but for the loyalty of their shared creator–or captor, as the case may be. Four sheaths adorned Wrath's back, one empty of the rapier now ringing in the stone, Greed's blood a macabre painting beneath it. "Greed. It's been too long," Wrath said coldly, no sign of his human persona present in the absence of an audience. Greed was glad for it. He didn't think he could stomach the 'kind old guy' act any more than he knew Wrath would tolerate Greed's surrender.

"A real family reunion," Greed grinned, crouching defensively and summoning his shield, even knowing that it would be as ineffective as the last time they'd crossed blades, something he would never admit under pain of true death. Fine. This was fine. He hadn't been able to get the information he needed from the Elrics, so perhaps this was destiny? He would just pry the information from Wrath's cold dead corpse.

The thought brought a thrill of vicious pleasure through Greed's tensed body. His grin twitched and were he human, sweat would shine over his forehead and betray the bitterness of his doubts.

"You lost the right to call us family, traitor," Wrath stated cooly, slowly unsheathing another of his swords like the fang of some great beast set to drain Greed of everything he was. "This time, you won't be getting away from me."

"So you are here for me," Greed drawled. "I'm flattered. Did good ol' dad send you to deliver a warm hello?"

"Father has better things to do than worry about a broken vessel. This is simply a stop on my way to more important matters."

Greed's grin disappeared in a snarl, rejection stinging the frayed twine of his once strong ties to his former family, sawed away over time until nothing remained but the slightest of threads. It vibrated now, still stubbornly unsevered despite his every effort to do so over the decades, still tight enough about his throat that it could hurt. How dare they think of him as insignificant? Him! He was not so diminished that he couldn't destroy them all. "Aw, you're just mad because you couldn't finish the job, isn't that right? I bet you came to save face."

"On the contrary," Wrath said, examining his blade with the military precision he'd been made for. "Father has no reason to doubt my abilities. I, after all, am no failure."

"Like I give a rat's ass what that bastard thinks," Greed growled. He lunged, intending to take the smug asshole's head clean off his shoulders, but howled as his arms were once again rent from him before his full shield could manifest. His cry choked off into a wet whistle as he was impaled once, twice, three times in the abdomen before he could get his foot up to fend off his attacker. Wrath stepped away, easily avoiding the clumsy blow. He flicked his blade with a twirl of light and crimson, an effortless show of skill and an insult to Greed's threat.

He stared down his nose coldly as Greed collapsed to his knees in the filth.

"You bastard," Greed rattled through his punctured lungs, glaring up at his tormentor. How? How could a halfbreed homunculus that could grow old defeat him, Greed? He was superior in every way. He shuddered as his wounds healed over, limbs regrowing and punctures suturing, a process that only ever left scars on memory long numb against it. He coughed roughly, expelling the excess blood to dilute in the brackish water.

"You always were pathetic," Wrath said, observing his counterpart dispassionately. "Your ultimate shield is a joke and worse, you let yourself go soft. For what? A few ruined humans? Don't make me laugh."

Rage tore through Greed and he lurched, catching Wrath around the neck and slamming him against the wall. Wrath's mustache didn't so much as twitch as Greed bared his teeth. "Where are they?"

Wrath's answer was a blade in Greed's gut.

Greed choked and drowned in his own blood as the blade ripped through his abdomen, legs going abruptly numb and the ground racing up to meet him. Wrath swiped a fleck of crimson from his cheek and adjusted the collar of his shirt before planting a boot on Greed's mutilated back. Greed couldn't do more than wheeze as he died, filthy water filling the gouge in his abdomen and his gaping mouth, spine severed and limbs unresponsive. "Here's how this is going to work. You were only left alone because you became irrelevant and our merciful Father thought your punishment sufficient. But now you are interfering with our sacrifices, so it's high time you come to heel. You should be proud; even your weak philosopher's stone can still be of use."

"N-not a chance in h-hell," Greed choked through the blood and drool and polluted water, still smiling despite the pain, despite the burning itch of alchemy stitching him back together. It was slowing down now, his stone struggling to keep up with the output of energy required to keep him alive.

"I'm afraid you don't have much of a choice," Wrath said in a facsimile of sympathy. Greed just laughed, high pitched, hysterical, broken. He would not go down without a fight.

His spine snapped back into place, a rush of sensation returning to his legs. He tensed–

"Greed!" a reedy voice echoed through the tunnel, shattering the thin pane of drama separating the two of them from the rest of the world.

Greed's eyes widened and his chest clenched in true panic, heart battering against the repressed cage of his ribs. No. That idiot! He'd told him to get away!

A short figure careened around the corner, grey cloak concealing his compact form, but not the bald globe of his head and the expression of pure terror twisting his beady features. "Bido, what the hell are you–" Greed tried to force himself up–No, idiot, idiot, idiot–but Wrath stomped down brutally, bursting the air from his bruised lungs with a harsh cough.

Bido was not alone. Gunfire rained in ear-shattering pops as the short man ducked and weaved, three officers pounding around the bend in hot pursuit, wolves after an easy meal.

Wrath growled under his breath at the interruption and the necessary veneer of his performance, the chains of his command.

Greed watched with wide eyes as the first of the group overcame Bido, but the shorter man was too fast, spinning down low and sweeping the soldier's legs from beneath him with a swipe of a long, serpentine tail. The soldiers behind stumbled and stalled over their thrashing comrade and Bido dashed after Greed, reaching out with a patchy clawed hand. "Get away from him!"

Greed's breath hitched. No. Not this time.

"Bido, get out of here!" Greed felt the moment Wrath prepared to move with a rush of electric adrenaline. He twisted, using his shoulders to propel his legs upward, clipping Wrath in the chin. Wrath reared back, his surprise granting Greed enough time to get to his feet, launching towards Bido to force him out of the line of fire. Bido shrieked as Greed grasped him and threw him into a side tunnel in a rain of bullets, dragging him into a dead run while their pursuers scrambled to catch up, the much shorter man hardly touching the ground as they flew through the tunnels. "You idiot! What are you doing here? I told you to hide!"

Bido's eyes, always wide open, overlarge because of his second, unnatural nature, sparked with an earnestness that Greed found hard to doubt. "And if you died, then what? I'd be alone!"

Greed grit his teeth, crimson eyes flicking down to the smaller man. Bido was clearly terrified, expression drenched with fear. It was out of character for the usually skittish man to be here at all, but Greed could understand his desperation. Everyone else was gone. Bido and Greed were the only ones left, which is why he'd told him to hide, dammit!

"Shit!"

Greed shoved Bido down and convulsed as gunfire tore into his back, but staggered only a moment before throwing them both down another tunnel. If only he could summon his shield, but his body was still drained from healing so much in such short succession. He needed more time.

He had none.

"Hold your fire," Wrath's voice echoed and Greed cursed, knowing that meant Wrath was coming after them alone.

"Follow me!" Bido exclaimed, voice breaking. He took Greed's arm and dragged him down another passage, taking the lead where Greed faltered.

"Bido, what–" but Greed understood the moment they stepped into the open area of a crossroads, three new tunnels diverging in the gloom.

Bido and Greed spun around when the sound of footsteps echoed loudly, witnessing Wrath on a warpath, an unstoppable force in space where Greed hardly felt immovable. They were too late.

But Bido was not done. Tugging on Greed's shirt, Bido made a sharp gesture behind his back and threw something down on the ground with a harsh bang. The small bomb exploded and filled the tunnels with noxious smoke, consuming Bido and Greed, but not quickly enough for Wrath to miss the grin of triumph that lit Greed's face.

Wrath slowed from his dead run as his vision was obscured, exposed eye immediately watering and burning. He ground his jaw in an uncharacteristic expression of irritation, taking several deliberate steps back. His ultimate eye wouldn't be of any use if he couldn't see.

In an obnoxious racket of splashes and shouting, Wrath's men reached his side prepared to move forward, but he held a hand out to stop them. No use in getting his pawns killed senselessly. He would need all the warm bodies he could get before long.

Within minutes, the gas was cleared enough to see, but it was no use. Greed and his pet were long gone.

No matter. Greed's escape was no more than a minor inconvenience in the grand scheme of things. He hadn't lied; pursuing Greed was a short side-stop to his true goal.

"Come," he ordered, his men falling in line as he retraced his steps. He needed to send the Elrics on their way so he could complete his task. It wouldn't do for them to stray too far from Father's control.

Wrath had business with the border today.

"Al. Alphonse!"

Alphonse came to with a jerk, Edward's concerned face the first thing he saw in the rush of light, a parting of the curtains to let in the sun. "Brother…?"

Edward's brow crumpled in relief, though the tension around his lips did not diminish. "Oh, thank god you're okay. Thought I'd lost you there for a minute. Why'd you run off on your own like that?"

"Sorry," Alphonse said quietly. "I didn't realize you couldn't follow until it was too late." He looked around slowly, finding himself in Devil's Nest proper once again, propped up against the wall. Several soldiers still milled around, the sharp blue of their pressed uniforms bright against the dinge of the abandoned building. They weren't paying the brothers any mind.

Alphonse was surprised when Major Armstrong crouched down to eye level, eyes glimmering kindly. "Alphonse, are you alright?" the older man asked gently, and Alphonse felt a little something in himself ease at the face of someone he actually trusted.

"I...think so. Wait, what about Greed?" A small burst of alarm had Alphonse remembering the final moments before he blacked out. He looked down to his chest that had been so badly damaged and for one dizzying moment thought that his new body had bled despite the lack of arteries or human warmth. But no, it was not his blood, nor even human blood, that soaked into every crevice of his black clothes and ruined metal, but Greed's.

"Sorry, I'd hoped I could clean that up before you woke," Edward said gently, pulling Alphonse's hovering hand away from his vessel's wound, dark eyes just as haunted as Alphonse felt as if he too found it hard to separate the blood from Alphonse's injury. "This was a close one. Too close. We may need to rethink this chest plate…"

"He knew," Alphonse said darkly, "He knew everything about how I was made. He must have been watching us since we arrived in Rush Valley. Maybe longer."

"Yeah," Edward said grimly. It was the only way his attacks could have been so precise. The question was, who else might have been watching?

"Good to see you awake, young man," an older man's voice interrupted them. Major Armstrong stood immediately with a sharp salute as Fuhrer Bradley walked into the room to join their conversation, the men around him following suit. "You gave us all quite the scare."

"Uh, thank you, sir," Alphonse said tentatively, surprise coloring his tone. Alphonse tensed as his shrewd eye scanned the exposed plates of his chest, but if the Fuhrer was curious about it, he didn't express it.

"Not at all. I'm just glad you're both alright." He turned to Edward. "I understand that you two are searching for your brother, but I'm afraid I must ask you to return to Central. There is a delicate matter I must attend to in the southern region and I have ordered all uninvolved military personnel back to Command."

"What's going on, sir?" Edward asked on just this side of polite, and Alphonse shot him a look, recognizing the guileless tone of his brother scheming.

Nothing about Bradley's expression changed, but his singular focus on Edward made Alphonse distinctly uncomfortable, an older predator eyeing a younger across neutral territory. "I'm afraid it's confidential for now, but I wouldn't worry. If all goes well, you should be hearing about it in a few days' time." He turned his back. "Now, I must be going. Your superior officer has been contacted and expects you to return within the next two days, so no time to dally. And, Major Elric," he paused before ascending the stairs to the outside, looking over his shoulder with a gleaming blue eye. Edward snapped to attention. "I may be a forgiving man, but other officers can be quite stiff, you understand. Try to keep the insubordination to a minimum, hm?"

"Yes, sir!" Edward said with a salute of his own, and Fuhrer Bradley gave them one last smile before leaving them to their own devices, the resounding echo of his boots louder than it should be as if a giant and not a man filled them. The rest of the soldiers left with him like a tide receding, making it just a little easier to breathe.

Only Armstrong remained. When the three of them were alone, Edward let the tension out of his shoulders with a relieved exhale. "Well. That happened. C'mon," he looked around for a cloth and some water he could use, "let's get you cleaned up."

Finding some cleaning supplies, Edward began the arduous task of removing the blood from the cavity of Alphonse's chest. It had seeped into every crevice and textured plane like a splattering of the wrong colored paint, but it wasn't the worst Edward had to deal with. Edward found the task familiar even, long used to maintaining his own automail through many a bloody conflict, and it was easier for him to consider Alphonse as an extension of himself than it probably ought to be.

"Is there somewhere safe nearby that you're staying," Armstrong asked. "I'll have to catch up with my men shortly, but I want to make sure you two don't get into any more trouble."

Alphonse huffed a laugh while Edward scowled. He wasn't wrong. "Yeah. Our teacher lives in this city. We're staying with her."

"Very well. What will you do now?"

Edward grimaced. "Well, we go back to Central. Hard to argue with a direct order from the Fuhrer."

"I think we should head there anyway," Alphonse said slowly. "When I was chasing Greed, he told me he thought it was funny that we came all the way out here for answers when what we were seeking was right under our noses."

Edward mulled that over as he carefully removed rusty flakes from Alphonse's shoulder. "Hm. Well, at least this trip wasn't totally useless. It confirms that the homunculi are in Central, like we suspected." And didn't that hurt? Alex had been so close, and yet they still hadn't been able to find a trace of him. He cursed Greed for being so vague but was hardly surprised. Things were never that easy.

"Homunculi?" Armstrong asked, and Edward realized suddenly that he still hadn't caught Armstrong up to date since they'd last traveled together. It was easy to forget that not everyone in Mustang's circle knew as much as they did.

"Yeah. That woman who was stalking Alex and those guys I told you about from lab five–they're homunculi. We still don't know what exactly they're after, but we do know that Alex is with them." He found it hard to believe that this 'Father' just wanted ultimate power. There had to be more to it than that.

"Hey, brother," Alphonse said, "do you think that Greed might have been speaking literally?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's just...something he said. That we should be careful who to trust in the military. He called them a 'den of snakes'."

Edward worked silently for several moments. "Well, we know that at least some in the military were involved in the events of lab five. He could be talking about that? Hey, Armstrong, have we learned anything new from the investigation?"

Armstrong's stance shifted ever so slightly. "I'm afraid I'm not qualified to answer that. Also, the lab five investigation has been put on hold for the time being."

Edward blinked. "Why? I thought Hughes was on it." He furrowed his brow, thinking. "Actually, I have some questions Hughes might be able to help with. We should look him up first when we get back, Al."

"Edward," Armstrong said seriously, crouching down to take Edward's shoulders in his large hands. Edward stared into his uncharacteristically grim features, uneasy. It reminded him uncomfortably of his size to be dwarfed so easily by someone who he willingly allowed past his guard. But Armstrong had long earned his trust, unlike most who wore the coat. "I need you to promise me not to do anything rash."

"...Okay?" It came out as more of a question. Edward glanced at Alphonse, but Armstrong's hands squeezing him tighter forced him to meet the older man's eyes, the blue heavy with the things he couldn't–wouldn't?–say.

"Promise me."

Now Edward was getting nervous. "I promise," he said, though he wasn't sure what, exactly, he was agreeing to.

With a grim nod, Armstrong stood and turned to leave. "Good. I'll ask you two not to stray on your way back to your teacher's house. Greed was not apprehended and could be targeting you still. I must return to the Fuhrer's side. Stay out of trouble."

When the door closed quietly behind him, Edward shook his head slowly as if that would somehow unearth the sewn seed of trepidation that Armstrong left, growing despite the lack of actual information. "What is it with adults and telling us to stay out of trouble?"

"Well, we are kind of trouble magnets," Alphonse said without humor, distracted.

Edward pulled his eyes from the now vacant door, sure now that they were finally alone. "Hey, are you really alright? You scared the crap out of me back there."

"...I remember everything."

"You mean…?"

"Yes," he said softly, voice weighed down with the memories of in between he'd been missing. "I remember the gate, and being deconstructed, and seeing my body. And something else." He looked down at his hands as Edward watched in stunned silence. "There was this moment where I was inside of that thing we made. Or, what became Alex, I guess. For a moment...we were one. Then you pulled me out." He looked up at Edward, and Edward saw the flash of warm brown eyes, a ghost of his brother's true from before it was taken. "I think that's why we were linked from the start, and maybe why he ended up looking like me."

"Okay," Edward said consideringly. "But that doesn't explain why a link formed between me and Alex later."

Alphonse hummed, but he didn't have any more answers.

"What about the philosopher's stone? Did you learn anything useful?"

"No. Sorry."

"Eh, it's alright," Edward said with a reassuring smile, and Alphonse tried to let it comfort him. "This wasn't a total bust. Greed might have been an evasive asshole, but we did learn some things, like that this has been going on even longer than we thought. Once we get back to Central, Hughes should find that useful. Also, what you learned about Alex might be important." With a final swipe, Edward deemed Alphonse clean enough. He clapped his hands together and repaired the damage with a swift surge of energy, adding in a sturdier protection circle for good measure. This wouldn't be happening again, not if he had anything to say about it. He'd already lost one brother to the homunculi; neither this Greed character or anyone else would be taking another.

"There. Let's get back. If we want to be able to make it to Central in time, we need to leave tonight."

"Right."

Their journey back to Central was uneventful, to say the least. Perhaps a good thing, considering the great deal of physical stress Edward had been under for the past several weeks, especially considering he was barely healed enough to be moving around since lab five. He spent most of the trip back sleeping, for once not complaining about the hard train benches or rattled teeth. Alphonse honestly wondered how Edward managed to sleep so much. He would chalk it up to still healing, but Edward had always been like that. He was like a cat; if he had eighteen hours a day to commit to sleep, he absolutely would. Alphonse and Alex were often amused at their brother's expense for that very reason, especially when it became apparent that Alex could no longer sleep at all, leaving the two of them to wait for Edward to wake each day.

So it was a well-rested Edward that strolled into Central Command the next evening, travel bag thrown casually over one shoulder and no thoughts other than to get his meeting with Mustang over with so they could make their way to the Hughes's for some of Gracia's great cooking. Despite everything, he was in a good mood, and even the unfriendly eyes he could imagine burning into his back from every dark doorway couldn't dampen it.

"Oh, hey Edward! Who's your friend?" Edward and Alphonse paused on their way to Mustang's office, the voice of a friend slowing their steps.

"How's it going, Havoc?" Edward lifted a hand in greeting as the older man strolled down the hall to catch up to them, a lollipop clenched beneath his teeth in another futile attempt to quit smoking. Havoc grinned, unconcerned or perhaps unaware that his lips were stained red like the last legs of day-wear lipstick.

"Ah, it's me, Alphonse," Alphonse said, ducking his head.

"No way," Havoc said cheerfully. "You look great, Al! I had no idea you'd had another outfit commissioned!"

"Ah, yeah," Edward said with an ironic twist of his brow. He knew full well that Havoc knew that Alphonse's armor wasn't just an outfit, but he appreciated that he was being discreet.

"And you're looking all better, Ed. Gotta say, though, I didn't expect to see you two so soon! what brings you back to Central?" As he spoke, he gestured for them to follow, the three of them making their way to Mustang's wing. Edward side-eyed him.

"There a reason we can't be here?"

"What, no! Just thought it would take you longer to get yourselves situated, is all." Havoc didn't look him in the eye as he said it, but Edward let it slide.

"Yeah, well, we got done faster than we expected. We started towards the southern border, but the Fuhrer ordered us back to Central."

Havoc's brow dipped, though his smile twitched in place. "Did he, now. I'd heard he was heading that direction." When he didn't say anything more, Edward began to get annoyed. It was as if everyone they crossed these days was hiding something from them in one way or the other and it was setting Edward's teeth on edge.

"We learned something that Hughes might find interesting," Alphonse said after a moment. "After Ed reports to Mustang we're going to visit his office. Is he around today?"

Havoc's steps slowed, affected cheer sinking into something more contemplative. Edward watched him carefully, slowing his pace until all three of them were forced to come to a stop. "Havoc. There's something you're not telling us."

Havoc was silent for a moment before he slipped the candy from his mouth and flicked it out the open window for something to do other than look them in the eye. "Look, Al, Ed…"

"Fullmetal," a deep, familiar command interrupted whatever Havoc might have been about to reveal and Edward grimaced in distaste. With a sigh, he looked over his shoulder with hands shoved in his pockets, watching Mustang cross the hall to greet them. Edward eyed him critically, and though Mustang's insufferable mug was as impassive as ever, he looked somehow worse than the last time Edward had seen him, as if he hadn't slept at all during the weeks Edward and Alphonse had been gone. "I've been expecting you."

He spared a look for Havoc, who looked simultaneously relieved that he'd been interrupted and regretful that he no longer had something between his teeth to worry. Flashing a quick, unconvincing smile to Edward and Alphonse, he gave them a mock salute before stepping away. "Sorry to run, boys, but I have some business to get to. See you later, Colonel."

Edward clicked his teeth irritably as the man-made his escape, but he didn't have time to worry about it with Mustang breathing down his neck.

"You're late," Mustang said predictably and Edward was tempted to roll his eyes.

"Spare me, Mustang. I got my orders just last night, you should be lucky I got here so quickly."

The older man's black eyes bore into his and Edward could already tell he didn't like where this was going. "Come with me. I want to hear a full report."

Following after his superior officer much like a rebellious dog would its master, Edward was unsurprised when Alphonse leaned down to whisper in his ear. "Something's wrong."

Nodding grimly, Edward didn't bother to reply. That much was obvious. First Armstrong, then Havoc and now even Mustang was looking like his puppy had been kicked. Something was very wrong, and Edward was done with the evasions.

The three made their way down the halls of Command and this time, Edward wasn't imagining the unfriendly eyes. Only, they weren't pointed at him and his brother, but Mustang, whose shoulders couldn't get any straighter without shattering his spine.

Edward was at his wit's end before the door to Mustang's office finally clicked securely shut behind them. He didn't bother to sit in his usual spot on Mustang's sofa, too keyed up and suspicious to pretend this was anything close to a standard visit. He watched carefully as Mustang locked his door before making his way to the window beside his desk, the late evening sun casting him in a long shadow.

"What's this about, Mustang?" Edward finally said when it was obvious that the older man wasn't going to speak first.

"That new face suits you, Alphonse. I take it your trip to Rush Valley was a success?" Mustang said instead of answering, much to Edward's mounting annoyance.

"Yes, it was," Alphonse said politely. "And thank you. But you have something to tell us, don't you?"

Mustang's dark head bowed ever so slightly, and Edward zeroed in on it, expression darkening by the minute.

"Did you find Alex?" he asked softly, scanning Mustang for any sign that his hunch was right. After all, what else could have made everyone so evasive, unless their brother had been sighted? Beside him, Alphonse stood just as still, just as hopeful and expectant and nervous to hear the answer as Edward.

It was a long time before Mustang brought himself to answer, and if Edward wasn't both anticipating and dreading the news equally, he might have pushed him again. But the tightness in every line of Mustang's form made him hesitate, made him think that perhaps he wanted to wait just a little bit longer before his hopes were crushed.

"No," Mustang said slowly, turning around. Edward narrowed his eyes, but couldn't read Mustang's enigmatic blacks. "I thought I found his trail, but lost it soon after. It appears that he fought Scar."

Edward inhaled sharply. "Is he okay? How do you know it was him?"

"His chimera reacted to his scent, but I lost both the chimera and the lead when it took off down the tunnels beneath the city."

Edward pursed his lips. So, Alex was indeed still in Central. Under their noses, as Greed had claimed. "The only reason Alex wouldn't have found his way back to us was if he was still being held captive."

"...I agree," Mustang after a moment. "But we already knew that."

"What about Scar?"

"He hasn't been sighted since. I believe that either Alex subdued him and he's in hiding to lick his wounds, or he left the city."

Alphonse nodded. "At least we don't have to worry about him anymore."

"More importantly, we came across another homunculus in the South. Goes by the name of Greed." Edward scowled. "He was pretty cagey, but at least he didn't seem to be on the same side as the other homunculi. He gave us some information that Hughes might find useful–" Edward cut himself, wide eyes tracked on Mustang's face. This time there was no mistaking the way the raven's brow darkened, the shadows beneath his eyes becoming deeper. "That's it. What happened, Mustang, and don't give me that 'protect the kid' routine. This is the third time someone's reacted badly when Hughes came up. What. Happened."

Mustang leaned against the wall heavily, closing his eyes, and it struck Edward just how tired he looked. Defeated. It was so starkly opposite his usual indomitable confidence that something shook loose and precarious in Edward's chest, the world going wobbly around the edges like a plate on a spindle in an amateur's hand.

"Mustang?" Alphonse said tentatively when Edward struggled to find his voice through the dread, eyes already widening in realization.

"I'm afraid Hughes won't be able to help us. He's been attacked."

A small sound of distress was the only reaction Alphonse could give, voicing for both himself and a frozen Edward what the news means to them.

Before either could ask, Mustang continued, folding his arms over his chest to protect the heavy bruise Edward could already feel echoing in his own breast. "He was staying late to research the recent raid of lab five when he was assaulted outside the doors of Command, suffering severe wounds and a mental breakdown that saw him institutionalized. He hasn't been able to speak since."

"I can't believe this," Edward whispered, fingers lightly brushing the glass that separated him and Alphonse from one of the people they cared about most in this world.

It didn't make sense. Why would Barret–Hughes' partner, the son of Alex's mentor and the man who protected Alex when he left for Dublith–attack Hughes? The betrayal stung, but what Edward was experiencing was a mere shadow compared to what it did to Hughes.

Hughes lay immobile on the white hospital-grade cot on which he rested, the room about him an unassuming beige and empty of all furniture save for a single chair. No light from outside reached him here, as if even the touch of the sun would shatter his fragile form. Hughes lay deathly pale in the center of the bed, his tall frame diminished, curled in on itself and guarded even as he slept, as if any moment he would be harmed by the nightmares that plagued his every waking hour.

He'd been betrayed by someone who he'd trusted and considered friend, and the shock had been enough to break him.

Hughes looked just as ragged as Mustang with those same heavy bags beneath his eyes, as if his condition directly linked to the state of the other. Perhaps it did. Edward had only known Mustang and Hughes to be together, the only time he'd ever seen his superior officer casually when Hughes managed to drag him over for dinner and coax out the parts of Mustang that only Alex had ever been able to see far from prying eyes. Edward could only imagine what he must feel, when Edward himself felt like shards of glass had taken up residence in his throat, a sick pounding in his chest and throbbing heat behind his eyes without leave for release.

He didn't want to see Hughes like this, not when his most recent memories of Hughes were of him sending them off with a smile. "He was fine when we left, Al," Edward continued, words broken things that nearly died before he could speak them. "He was fine."

"This doesn't make any sense," Alphonse said just as brokenly, echoing the sentiment that Edward had repeated to himself so many times in the last hour.

Before they left to visit Hughes, they'd barely given Mustang enough time to tell them that Lieutenant Barret's gun was found on the scene and that he'd been arrested for the assault of Maes Hughes.

He also told them that Barret was sentenced to the firing wall in a day's time for his crimes.

"I mean, we know Barret. He would never do this," Alphonse said, grasping for something, anything to mean that this wasn't true.

"I know," Edward said, nearly inaudible, resting his forehead against the glass and staring at Hughes's pinched face. The stillness looked so unnatural on lips that were always smiling, on eyes that were always kind.

"This is the man who," Alphonse said, voice rising, "who helped take down Yoki. Who protected Alex in Dublith–"

"I know, Al," Edward said, a little louder.

"–who helped me to the roof and kept me company when I couldn't move and gave Nina a flower when she was sad and made sure Alex ate–"

"Alphonse," Edward clasped Alphonse's shoulder and turned him away from Hughes' room, forcing him to meet his eyes. "I know. None of this makes sense because Barret didn't do this."

That finally calmed Alphonse down enough to hear what Edward was saying. "What?"

"I don't believe Barret would do this. I can't. Alex trusted him, Hughes trusted him. There has to be something else to this, we just have to find out what it is."

A low groan from behind dragged their eyes to the still slumbering Hughes, the IV attached to his arm keeping him that way. But not enough, it seemed, for his nightmares to give him peace. "You're right," Alphonse said, placing a gloved hand against the glass as gently as Edward had. "But how do we prove it? Mustang said that Barret is scheduled to face the firing wall tomorrow. He'll be dead before we can gather the evidence we need."

"No, he won't," Edward promised to the music of an uneven heart monitor and the memory of Hughes' laughter. "Because we're going to break him out before that can happen."

Barret counted the seconds one by one. Sixty, a minute. Three thousand, six hundred, and hour. All he could do was count down the lingering moments before he faced the consequences for the crimes of which he'd been convicted. Those investigating his case had been merciless, no faces familiar, as if the entirety of the Investigations Department had been replaced with imposters of some foreign will. He wondered if Hughes had already been replaced. He wondered if he had.

Barret shifted against the wall at his back, arms crossed over his knees and head bowed to block out the flickering fluorescents from the featureless hall, his body cast in thin shadows as if the bars separating him from freedom reached out across the room to spite him. A soft tinkling of metal against metal reminded him of the silver tags around his wrists like shackles, tight enough to bite into his skin with cold teeth. There would be no removing the tags of a traitor, the plates engraved with his name meant to follow him into the earth after his sentence had been carried out, into an unmarked grave reserved for the worst criminals, enemies of the State. Such was the fate of all of those who ended up in this cell block, appropriately named Traitor's Row.

They would be coming for him in a matter of hours. Mustang had not been able to clear his name, it seemed. Barret laughed to himself humorlessly. Perhaps he should have taken the man up on is offer to flee.

The footsteps of his silent guard echoed in the long hall, steps slow, measured, a drumbeat by which to time Barret's counts, nearly as accurate as the pumps of his own heart. It was comforting, in a way, that even in the most reviled of prisons of the institution that he'd given nearly half of his life in service to was still committed to following protocol, if not due process.

Only.

He hadn't expected his guard for another ten minutes.

The steps paused outside of his cell and Barret opened his eyes to take in the dull black boots planted against the floor, facing the gate with more purpose than a guard to his soon to expire charge.

"Those aren't standard issue," Barret said with a rusty voice, not having been allowed so much as a drink of water so close to his end. He lifted his gaze and was somehow unsurprised by what he found. "Well. I suppose you've come to tell me 'I told you so'."

"No." The heavy thunk of a container of liquid echoed loudly throughout the hall and Barret eyed the red can with growing unease. "I'm here to kill you."

Alphonse and Edward were barely outside the grounds of Command and into the alleys of Central when the very place they were trying to reach went up in a ball of flames.

Notes:

Oh dear, what will Greed get up to? Not telling! As you can see, he shares a bit of a different history with Wrath and the others than in either series. I have a soft spot for that guy and hope to do him proper justice.

Why did Mustang lie? I'm sure you all can guess. But it looks like Ed and Al believed Barret's guilt just about as much as they believed Maria Ross did it.

Hope you guys are enjoying the series. Even though it's not my most popular work, I can't help but love this AU I've built. If you love it too, drop me a line, I'd love to hear from you. See you next time!