A/N: Thanks to everyone for waiting so patiently!

This chapter might have a few more spelling/grammar errors than usual, because my family is in the middle of moving right now, and it's been hectic. But if I don't post the chapter tonight, I'm not going to have wifi for the next couple days :/

Thank you to everyone that reviewed last time! There were more of you than usual, and your kind comments really kept me going! I hope you enjoy this next chapter and don't think it's too rushed and choppy!

Tea in hand, Riza Hawkeye made her way back to the Fuhrer's office, trying her best not to show any outward signs of anxiety. Unfortunately for Riza, that task was almost impossible.

Less than an hour ago, she had been in the file room, procuring documents for Bradley, and had gotten caught up in a conversation with a few soldiers on her way back. After their insistence that she take a small break, she went to return to her boss' office. And as she approached the door, she watched the Fuhrer leave, tailed by one person she wasn't expecting to see until much later that night. Colonel Mustang, a rather dejected expression on his face, stared firmly at the ground as he and Bradley entered the hallway.

Upon seeing him, Riza immediately knew something was wrong. Call it intuition, or just a superhuman ability to read Roy, but she felt something terribly, achingly wrong. Every emotion emanating from Roy was negative as could be.

"Ah, Lieutenant Hawkeye, perfect timing," Bradley paused and smiled at her. He took note of the tea in her hand and continued, "Why don't you set that back in the office, then accompany the Colonel and I across Headquarters. I need my bodyguard at my side at all times."

Too cheerful, the Fuhrer stood straight, then waved Riza into his office with her tea. Roy met her eye, but the second of contact they had was not enough for her to fully decipher what he was trying to say.

Obviously, though, it was something terrible. Why wouldn't it be? Before now, there was no way in hell Roy would even walk near the Fuhrer's office, let alone talk with the homunculus. He must have been summoned if he was there. But that only raised the question of why he was summoned, and why the meeting had not been on the Fuhrer's busy schedule. Everything about seeing Roy there was unnerving her, adding to the anxiety she had about what she and him were supposed to do later that night.

Would they even still be able to meet up at his apartment? The last time Roy had an impromptu meeting with Bradley, the man had confirmed he was a homunculus and wreaked havoc on the Colonel's team. Could the consequences of this meeting be just as dire?

Roy's face flashed through her mind again. Outside the office, he'd seemed to be just a whirlwind of negative emotion; anger, sadness, and everything in between flashing in his eyes. The last time she'd seen him like that had been right after he returned from his first meeting with Bradley, in which his precious team and support group had been brutally ripped from his grasp. It was one of the darkest days of his entire life, yet here he was now, wearing the exact same face.

Riza wasn't sure how much more Roy could endure. He was by no means a weak man, but even the strongest had their breaking points. In the past few weeks, Roy had flirted with his limit numerous times, coming away each time a bit more precariously. After being stripped of all his supports and closed to almost all of his hope, Riza didn't know how much longer he would be able to keep going.

Heart rate only beginning to pick up, Riza attempted to push pessimistic thoughts out of her head. Digging herself into another hole mentally was not going to help her get through this. No matter how terribly she worried, she needed to keep it together not only for her sake, but for Roy's as well.

Hoping to be able to learn more about just what the hell was going on, Riza walked back out of the Fuhrer's office with her hand twitching toward her pistol and a blank expression on her face.

"Walk with us, Lieutenant," Bradley gestured her along, and turned to the hallway. Roy shot her a glance, but soon had to take his place next to the Fuhrer while Riza took hers two steps behind him. Even though her current position was about two feet away from her previous one, Riza felt worlds away. Following Bradley while Roy was right there next to him just felt… wrong.

So unconsciously, silent as a shadow, she shifted over, and was met with the sight of the Colonel in front of her.

He was a breath of fresh air from the box she'd been stuck in, and for more reasons than his cologne wafting behind him instead of Bradley's musk. This was where she needed to be. But depending on what happened between the Colonel and the homunculus in their meeting, she might be severed from him further.

"So Colonel," Bradley began, and Roy stiffened at the sound of his rank, "Along with leading your new team on this mission, I think a promotion might be in order for you."

"A promotion, sir?" Roy seemed just as shocked as Riza was.

Bradley was sending him on a mission? Worry pooled in her heart as Riza thought harder about what exactly a mission could entail. Depending on what the Fuhrer had in mind, Roy could be put into a situation that was life-threatening. Even if the homunculi were keeping him alive for whatever reason, being sent out in the field alone could prove to be fatal for Roy without anyone there to properly protect him. Without Riza there by his side, there were just too many variables that could cause the equation to go wrong.

And an even more terrifying thought popped into her mind; a thought that made chills run up her back. With the position Roy was in now- hostages spread across the country, and no choice but to obey the Fuhrer- he could be ordered to do almost anything. A heartless monster ordering around the most powerful state alchemist in Amestris sent visions of a white-hot desert stained with blood into Riza's mind, and she had to take multiple deep breaths in order to keep from losing her composure.

Logic argued that there was no way he could be thrown into another Ishval, so soon and without warning; Amestris had not formally declared war on anyone new overnight. But even if it wasn't the scale of Ishval, Roy could still have to do things he never would have wanted to do in even his worst nightmares.

And it was her fault.

So much of the leverage they had on the Colonel hinged on the fact that she was under Bradley's command, and Bradley could take her out in an instant if need be. One wrong move for Roy, and the man she brought tea every day could be standing over her corpse.

It was sickening to know that she, the one who had been tasked to protect Roy Mustang, became his weak spot; the chink in his armor.

"A promotion, Colonel," Bradley's low voice broke Riza free of her thoughts, "I'm adding a Lieutenant Colonel to your team, so I think You should be appointed to Brigadier General."

"Sir…" Confusion still remained in Roy's voice, and in Riza's silence. She needed to know what was going on.

"Are you opposed to a promotion, Colonel Mustang?" Instead of confusion, amusement was what dominated the Fuhrer's tone.

"No, sir," Roy paused, his sharp mind trying to decipher why the hell one of his greatest enemies was raising his status, "I was just wondering, considering the circumstances, why you would promote me now," It was difficult to question Bradley without mention of the glaring situation with the homunculi.

"Maybe it'll give you a bit more incentive to complete the mission well, Mustang," Though only a sliver of his face was visible to her, Riza saw Bradley smirk. She could only imagine the expression on Roy's face.

"And who is the Lieutenant Colonel I'm supposed to be working with, sir?"

"You'll find out after I give my address to the nation on the radio and I give you a proper briefing."

As more questions swirled around Riza's mind- about Roy's mission and about Bradley's unscheduled radio address of which she had had no prior knowledge- the rest of the walk was a blur, and she only regained situational awareness long enough to switch back over to watching the Fuhrer's back.

Even though he really should not be complaining about it, Alphonse felt extremely uncomfortable in the holding cell he'd been holed up in for the past day.

His discomfort wasn't physical; how could it be, after all? The hard steel now acting in place of his flesh couldn't even feel being shot at by countless soldiers. No, his discomfort was more in the way that he'd had a sinking feeling in the hole his gut should have been in.

At first, upon seeing Warrant Officer Falman, Al had been overjoyed to meet a familiar face in the nightmare that was Fort Briggs. But because of all his faking and half-truths, he'd dug himself into an identity that really wasn't his own, and had been a ticking time bomb from the start.

Al didn't hold anything against Falman. It wasn't like he'd actually told anyone he was pretending to be the Fullmetal Alchemist, so Falman wouldn't have known anyway. Even though at the beginning, Al had felt a twinge of anger, he understood that it was completely unjustified and irrational.

When he was little, his mom had always warned him about the dangers of lying to people, and managing to dig himself into a five-foot hole (a hole size that had seemed enormous to Alphonse, and even more enormous to Ed). Al sighed, because deep down, he had somehow known everything would blow up in his nonexistent face.

Still though, it was disappointing that he hadn't been able to keep his charade up until he left.

No. He'd been caught before they'd managed to make any major headway on finding May and a possible way to separate Greed out of Ed's body. And now he might not have ever have the chance to do that.

Because General Armstrong was going to murder him.

He had no chance of surviving. All hope was lost.

The second the words, "Where's Fullmetal," had left Falman's mouth, Al turned to the already agitated General beside him and had only had a fraction of a second to dodge the sword swinging at his head.

Oh god, she was so angry. Honestly, the look in her eyes actually made Al feel like he was melting. Colonel Mustang might be able to create fire by snapping, but General Olivier Armstrong could probably do it with a single glance. Al could have sworn he felt hot.

The only thing that had saved Al from his untimely death had been Buccaneer and Miles each grabbing one of his arms and pinning him to the nearby wall, away from the fuming General.

In response to her officers' actions, Armstrong did not put her sword back into its sheath in a show or civility, nor did she attack again. She just stood in front of Al, posed to strike should she need to. It was like watching a cobra.

"You will explain to me right now what the hell is going on!" She barked the order, stepping closer to Al.

"Wait, what is going on?" Falman's eyes had actually opened, and he was staring at the scene with a confused bewilderment.

"I did not tell you to speak, soldier," Armstrong turned to him, and the Warrant Officer jumped back in fear. Al didn't blame him, "Alphonse Elric, or whatever your real name is, explain exactly what is going on."

"Uh," Was the only thing that could slip from Al's mouth as he stood, motionless, brain racing at 100 miles per hour, deciphering exactly what to tell the seething General in front of him.

He couldn't confess everything; not here, not out in the open. Homunculi and hostages and all the other shit Al was in the middle of dealing with was not fit for a discussion on a balcony.

So he made the general even angrier, and told her the thing she least wanted to hear, "I can't say right now. I need privacy."

He expected to be decapitated (which wouldn't hurt, but would probably give his body a heart attack out of fear if he was still connected to it), but instead, Armstrong just narrowed her hard eyes and gave the men one last order.

The next thing Al knew, he was sitting in his dark cell, wooden restraints around his wrists and the fear of God put in him by the Ice Queen of Briggs.

Now all he could do was wait until she came back to pry answers out of him and murder him in cold blood… Or cold steel, if that was a thing…

Nobody had visited him since his initial incarceration, which was somewhat understandable. Al didn't need food or water, or even blankets for warmth, so physically he could last almost forever in any sort of prison. And with how rigid and efficient Briggs was, it made sense for the General not to waste any men with Alphonse while they could be helping clean up the mess Sloth had made of the fort's lower levels.

But even so, even with Al's slightly skewed sense of time, he knew he had to have already been well into the next day. He was getting nervous about exactly how long the infamous Ice Queen intended to let him rot in her dungeon.

What if it was weeks?

Months?

"God dammit!" Alphonse yelled, and punched the wall as best he could with his bound hands. He couldn't stay down there forever, "Shit!"

Echoes from his commotion reverberated through the hallway outside his cell, and Al just listened as he slumped back down onto his bedding-less bed.

He didn't just senselessly punch walls to get hit anger out. He rarely cursed. He enjoyed being polite and courteous and only ever used anything stronger than crap if he was stuck in a situation Ed would classify as "goddamn motherfucking shitty-ass bitching fucking crappy bullshit fucking hell".

Punching the wall and screaming obscenities was nothing like him. That was such an Ed thing to do.

But even so… Right now he actually was stuck in goddamn motherfucking shitty-ass bitching fucking crappy bullshit fucking hell.

Because he couldn't just be idling in some random prison cell while his brother was possessed by a homunculus. There was no way he could just spend his hours waiting for General Armstrong to murder him while there was a good chance Ed was being murdered by an immortal monster.

That was too much murder. And would take way too much time.

Al lifted his head. Stupid General Armstrong and her stupid subordinates were not going to keep him there while he had infinitely more important things to deal with. In that moment, Al resolved that he was going to escape his cell if nobody came to take him out of it in the next twelve hours. He wasn't sure how, but he knew that it was going to happen.

He'd come up north trying to find a way to fix Ed, and before he went back, he was going to have a way to fix Ed, dammit.

It had started as such a beautiful day…

After sitting paralyzed on the couch for approximately an hour so she could hear as Bradley's speech replayed over and over again, Mr. Garfiel had thought it best to let Winry skip work if she wanted to. And Winry, trying frantically to work through what the hell was going on, had nodded and let her boss cover her in her favorite blanket.

Though she had no intention of skipping the entire day's work, Winry needed at least some time to work through what she felt at the moment. No matter how many times she listened to the Fuhrer-President's words on the radio, they still sent shockwaves through her heart. And each time, they became even more confusing.

But even with her brain scrambling to put the pieces together, there was one piece she knew for certain.

Ed couldn't have been the one to attack Fuhrer Bradley.

Just breaking in somewhere and attempting to murder another person for supposedly no reason was not something Ed would even begin to dream of. The act went against every single one of his ideals. Even if Bradley had done something unforgivable, Ed wouldn't resort to murder. Life above everything else, was practically the runt's motto, for God's sake.

What worried Winry was why such a severe accusation had fallen upon Edward.

She'd met Fuhrer Bradley before, and the man had seemed to genuinely appreciate his youngest State Alchemist. Hell, shaking hands with Fuhrer Bradley, he'd told her that it was an honor to meet someone so close to his "rising young star". Nothing about the Fuhrer's behavior previously indicated that there were tensions between him and Ed. And the Fuhrer was one of the extremely few authority figures Ed actually listened to, albeit with grumbling.

So what was with the accusation against Ed?

Had he been framed, and was he as much of a victim as the Fuhrer?

Ed had numerous enemies spread across Amestris and probably the regions surrounding it; that was no secret. Surely, if one of Ed's opponents had managed to find someone as short as Ed who was somewhat skilled at fighting, they could have made a convincing fake.

Or maybe some deranged midget with alchemical ability had broken into Central Command and initiated the attack. It wouldn't be that hard to make the jump to thinking that was Ed.

Winry stuck her tongue out; her theories were becoming more and more ridiculous as time went on.

But no matter how stupid the theories might be, pondering those was infinitely better than pondering the other aspects about Ed's situation. Like the fact that he now had the entire military after him…

Or what they would do to him once he was caught…

Though she trusted the institution of the Amestrian military in general, Winry had heard rumors about the treatment prisoners received. And she'd head Bradley say that Ed would be brought in, dead or alive. She didn't know who was leading the investigation against her friend, but if it was a soldier with no respect for human life, Ed could be fatally injured or worse.

She didn't like thinking about the worse.

What she should be thinking about was a plan.

How she could possibly help in the situation was beyond Winry, but she knew she somehow needed to. Waiting was what she had grown so used to, but she had also grown used to Ed and Al being able to travel around picking fights with whoever pissed Ed off and coming back mostly unscathed. Very few times had serious damage actually been inflicted on the boys. But most importantly, what she had grown used to was knowing that whenever things got tough for the Elrics, they had had people to turn to, like the Hughes Family, Ms. Riza, Major Armstrong, and even Colonel Mustang. When Ed got hurt, one of them would ensure Ed got safely to a hospital to heal.

Now, all those people were supposed to be helping "bring Ed to justice", being in in the military. Everything Winry was used to had been shattered in one fell swoop.

She was the only one left Ed and Al could turn to.

Gears turning in her minds, and gears turning in the automail arm Winry had begun tinkering on, Winry knew she needed to find the Elric brothers before anything else could happen to them.

Winry should go to Central. If she was there, she could help smuggle her boys out somehow and discover how exactly everyone had gotten into this mess.

With no guarantee about Ed's safety, she couldn't just stay in Rush Valley and wait for him anymore. It was what she'd done before, but with the bombshells dropped on her life, waiting might not be her next option.

The Elric brothers were extremely capable, and by no means helpless without her, but that still didn't mean that they couldn't use all the help they could get. And with the entirety of Amestris against them, having one more person on their side would be immense.

So Winry decided that after her work that day, she would pack a suitcase and catch the late night train to Central. Mr. Garfiel would understand (he annoyingly enjoyed called Ed, Winry's boyfriend), and if all went well, she should be able to bring the boys back soon, and return without too much of a hassle to her customers.

The plan was vague and terrible, and it really should have been thought about more, but Winry just did not have the time to expend on making sure her plan had no kinks. If so, she had a twelve hour long train ride to Central to smooth them out.

One last screw tightened in the arm Winry was working on. She was going to Central, and she was going to help clear Edward's name.

Riza Hawkeye slammed the door to her apartment shut in an uncharacteristic move, startling Hayate, who had pranced up to meet her.

Roy was at another meeting with Bradley that night, talking about the specifics of his new mission and his new team.

He wouldn't be able to remove her tattoo like she wanted him to. She'd be stuck walking around like some kind of human notepad, just waiting to be read, for God knew how long until they were able to agree on another date. The first one had taken so many days of careful sneaking around and coded messages to figure out, and now Bradley had even tighter surveillance surrounding her and Roy; this would be impossible.

Her back ached from having to stand so stiffly all day; the perfect soldier, doing her duty even as her world fell apart. Her face felt stuck in her perpetual blank expression. Her heartstrings were pulled to their full extent, painful as possible.

Earlier, Riza had had her worries about Roy, and how he would make it, trying to kill Edward, without falling apart. But for the first time in weeks, she began to worry about herself. Every week just brought a new catastrophe, and she didn't want to think about how many more she'd have to endure before they could be done with the whole nightmare.

It could be months.

It could be years.

With an undignified thump, Riza threw her boots into the closet and hung her jacket. Hayate danced between her legs until she finally picked him up and held him close.

She couldn't break. Not now; not when she had so many people counting on her to stay strong. Ugh, she just wished it wasn't so hard.

Roy's new task was to obliterate Edward. Forget Greed; that homunculus was just a minor detail in the matter. Ed's soul and body were going to be destroyed if Roy actually carried out his orders.

Colonel- now Brigadier General- Mustang looked hesitant, and the few times he'd managed to catch her eye during the day, through regret and apology, he'd also managed to send a clear message that he wasn't planning on killing Ed. But orders from Bradley meant that there were five more lives at stake than just his own. And not every member of the new squad he commanded were going to be so merciful.

Certainly not Solf J. Kimblee, now reinstated in the military as a Lieutenant Colonel.

Just seeing that lunatic again made Riza want to retch. They'd left him behind in Ishval; just another nightmarish aspect of that hellish desert. But now he had returned, eyes as wild with bloodlust as ever.

It had taken every ounce of Riza's self control not to shoot the bastard on sight.

Because not only was he a maniac who should have stayed behind bars, but he was a maniac who took joy in killing. Lieutenant Colonel Kimblee would just be fucking overjoyed to see Edward Elric in thousands of tiny, red pieces.

Now Roy had to work with that monster in order to kill a child who he'd grown close to over the past four years. Riza just wanted it all to end.

So she clutched Hayate tighter to her and made her way into the living room, so she could collapse on the couch. Paperwork be damned, she was drained and needed to rest.

But as soon as she made contact with her soft cushion, she heard a rustling noise from the kitchen.

Ears on high alert, Riza unholstered the pistol still attached to her hip. Was it just some burglar? Or was it someone sent by Wrath and the other homunculi? Avoiding all her creaking floorboards, Riza padded to the kitchen and paused outside the door without looking in.

The refrigerator door banged shut, and Riza took the safety off her gun. Her finger slid onto the trigger, prepared to shoot whoever was violating her property. With her other hand, she slowly turned the knob on the kitchen door and swung it open to reveal who was inside.

But through the iron sights on the top of her pistol, Riza saw something that made her blink twice in confusion.

"Hey there, Lieutenant Hawkeye! It's nice to see you again," A full meal on the table and a smile on his face, Riza saw Prince Ling Yao in her kitchen, munching on a chicken leg.

"How did you get in here?" As soon as the question left her mouth, Riza noticed the curtains on her window moving; blown on by the incoming wind. Ling saw her realization and thought it unnecessary to verbally answer the question.

"You're probably wondering why I'm here, or want to ask me a couple more questions," Ling took a bite out of his chicken, "But I need your help first, Lieutenant."

"With what?"

The happy-go-lucky smile melted off his face, and through narrowed eyes, Ling spoke up once more, "I made a promise to the Elric brothers weeks ago, and I can't just leave them helpless now. Lan Fan is safe now with Fu, and as she recuperates, I have come back to attend to my unfinished business," He stood up and took a step toward Riza, "I need you to tell me where Alphonse Elric went."

Ed gulped. The train he was in puffed smoke out, and he and Greed quickly unboarded before any railway workers found out that someone had been stowing away in the cargo-holding cars. With the setting sun casting shadows and helping him blend in easier, Greed made his way to an alleyway and yanked his black hood off of his head.

"Alright kid, so now where?" seemingly annoyed at having to ask the question, Greed was the first to speak up, "I don't know where you little girlfriend lives, so you gotta tell me."

"Hey! She's not my-" Ed paused, and then took a deep breath at the thought of Winry.

After sixteen hours of train hopping, he and Greed had finally made their way to Rush Valley; to Winry. And now, even though he wasn't in control of his heart, Ed could have sworn it was beating faster.

He was going to see Winry again.

He was going to see Winry again as Amestris' most wanted criminal, and as a homunculus who actually had succeeded in killing someone. A homecoming such as this one was not the kind he ever would have wanted to give Winry, but sadly, this fucked-up appearance was all he could give.

Whatever was her opinion of him after she saw him wouldn't matter though. All he needed to really do was ensure Winry got away to somewhere safe. Even if she was objectively terrified of the fact that he'd now become a monster with literal blood on his hands (he could still practically feel Bido's life leaving him), Ed was still determined to keep her out of the clutches of that maniac, Wrath.

A herd of rhinos danced around in his gut, much more painful than butterflies, and Ed let out another deep breath. Winry was his top priority now, not his appearance.

"Hey pipsqueak, you alright there?" Greed raised an eyebrow at Ed's antics, and the state alchemist- well, former state alchemist- cursed the fact that Greed could tell how nervous he was about facing Winry again.

She still probably thought he was a good person, but now his hands had killed someone in cold blood, and were most of the time, controlled by an immortal monster. It would be such a devastating shock to find the state her former best friend was in.

And Ed hated himself for it. He'd promised her that he wouldn't make her cry until he and Alphonse had regained their bodies, but since Winry could be so lachrymose, his promise could be broken.

Winry deserved none of the shit he and Wrath would put her through; she was completely separate and innocent, and trying to live her own life in peace. She hadn't been stupid enough to get involved before, and it was unfair of anyone to drag her in once things got messy.

"Hey, midget," Greed spoke up again, this time, was that a hint of concern edging his voice?

"I'm fine, asshole," Ed composed himself and replied, hoping he'd be able to keep it together until they got Winry to safety.

"Hey," Greed cleared his throat, "You'll be better at convincing Winter or whatever her name is to leave, so for the first half hour, do you want to take control?" Ed's eyes widened as the homunculus looked away.

"Wait a second, Greed. Did you just say what I think you said?" Incredulously, Ed tried to come up with any alternatives to what Greed may have meant. The homunculus he'd been at odds with since day one was actually offering up control.

"Yes, runt." Greed huffed, still not making eye contact, "This deal is take it or leave it, and only for thirty minutes, so give me an answer."

"Yes! I mean, uh, yeah…" Ed shouted almost too enthusiastically before toning it down a bit and looking away.

Without Greed in control, he could at least explain to Winry what was going on, and properly apologize before she met Greed, instead of having to find some way to break through halfway through their meeting. Even though she still would have to deal with what he'd become, it wouldn't be as terrible a shock for her.

"Alright, kid, your time will start ticking the exact second her front door opens," Greed responded, then pushed himself off of the wall he'd been leaning against, "Let's find your girlfriend quick, so I can get this over with soon."

With Ed telling Greed exactly where to go, from the faint memories he had of the times he'd visited Rush Valley before, the two made their way to Garfiel's automail shop in the shadows. And all too soon, as Ed's stomach twisted in fear of what was going to happen, the pink front of Garfiel's automail shop came into view.

Alright, Ed, trying to fill his head with positive thoughts instead of the negative ones that had been clouding his mind since the day Bido had been killed, Ed tried to reassure himself, You can explain everything to her, then get her to safety. That's all you need to do. You can do it.

Hood up, Greed sauntered up to the front door, and was about to knock, until it opened, revealing a certain bewildered, blonde mechanic.