I didn't realize how pitifully short this last chapter was until I uploaded it. How sad.

Inception: an act, process, or instance of beginning

Mustang remembered something like this. His eyes were dry from staring, and no matter how hard he bullied himself, he couldn't bring himself to touch his gun.

Ed had run out during his report earlier, and now Mustang was preparing to enter the storm to rescue him. It all felt so familiar, yet something was different.

There was a sense of urgency like he'd never experienced. It seared a streak of conviction through him, making every action seem deliberate and important. But his hands were still shaking, and it was all because of one simple thing:

His gun.

It was a focal point of attention. He knew he would shoot it tonight – and wasn't it strange that he could already see the blood on his hands? – but he couldn't shake the nightmarish image of Ed slumped against a wall, an expression of pain and betrayal engraved in his eyes and a bullet hole between his brows. It was all so vivid. It was all too real.

The vivacious clarity lit his mind with a brightness sharper than he could remember having in a long time. It allowed him to holster his gun. It stayed with him as he and Hawkeye interrogated that pathetic monster of a man, and it carried him into the fray as he struggled to amend his aim before it was too late.

Now Ed stood in his office. He'd been in the hospital three days – sleeping. But Mustang couldn't fault him. Behind his office door, he'd done the same.

"Fullmetal," Mustang started, then hesitated. Maybe it was water under the bridge, but Mustang couldn't let it go at that. He knew what had happened between them. Well, not quite. He had fragmented images in his memories – Hawkeye's empty body, Ed's hollow gaze, his own hands poised to shoot. There were too many details to pass off as nightmares.

He would ask Ed about all that in a minute, but first, there was one question Mustang wanted to ask.

"Do you trust me?"

He didn't know if he wanted the answer.

Ed looked up as if startled. The shock rapidly descended to suspicion before settling on weariness. He thought carefully for a moment. Mustang waited, and when Ed looked up again, the answer was in his eyes.

… … … …

Mustang left his gun in the shed that last day.

He didn't go back for it.

… … … …

Somewhere in the vast cosmic vortex of time and space where everything was white and perfect, Truth breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

Thanks for reading!

-Dante