Author's Note:

Woo, this one's probably a record breaker.

So sorry about the delay! This chapter ended up being twice as long as I expected it to be...but I hope the massive size of it makes up for my lateness! It's hard to imagine that this is basically my final chapter, though the Epilogue will be up in a couple of weeks (hopefully sooner rather than later).

I don't usually mention real-world events in my author's notes, but considering the circumstances, an exception seemed fitting. I don't know how much my words are worth - after all, I am simply a faceless writer on the other side of your screen - but if my writing is still able to bring you some entertainment, joy, or even just a distraction during these hard times, then all my effort would have been worth it.

Again, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading! (And I know this is nearly the end, but please favourite, follow or leave a review if you enjoy my work!)

Chapter 20 – Flame (Part Two)

Alphonse Elric thought he was dreaming.

As his eyelids flickered open and consciousness filtered back in, he found himself staring up at a plain white ceiling.

He was lying on something soft, like a bed. Last he remembered, hadn't he ended up on the floor after that blast of violent energy?

Two faces appeared above him, still blurry around the edges, but recognisable.

"Al! How're you feeling?" asked Edward.

Brother? Al smiled groggily, feeling a sense of relief wash through his body. As long as they were together, they would keep each other safe.

"I'm...alright."

His gaze drifted to the second face, which was peering down at him in concern. "Alphonse?"

Peering. Looking.

Al jerked upright, wincing at the spasm of vertigo which sent the room spinning.

A hand pressed gently against his back, supporting him as Alphonse fought to regain his bearings. "Easy. You took quite the hit there."

The dizziness eventually dulled, and Al half-turned. "Co–Colonel?"

Colonel Mustang simply smiled back.

"But–" Al shook his head, overwhelmed. "Your eyes, they're– Is this– Am I dreaming?"

In response, Edward pinched him mercilessly on the arm.

Alphonse yelped and swatted him away. "Brother! What was that for?"

Ed grinned, rubbing the spot where Al's reflexive blow had glanced off him. "Just helping you check."

Alphonse rubbed his forehead. "If I'm not dreaming, then this..."

A warm feeling filled his chest – he got it back he got it back they really did it – before it was replaced by sudden dread. "Wait, does this mean– Colonel! You went to the Gate again, didn't you? What did you lose?"

"I'm fine, Al." It was very brief, but those dark eyes broke contact with Al's momentarily, flashing to the side with an emotion which felt very much like guilt.

Alphonse sat back, understanding.

Oh.

As much as the Elrics had wanted – even urged – him to do it, Alphonse knew that this time, he simply didn't have a choice. This wasn't how Al had wanted it to happen.

Alphonse swallowed. "Colonel, I–"

A sudden explosion rocked the building.

All three heads snapped up simultaneously, staring at the ceiling as if they expected it to come crashing down at any moment.

"That came from the top floor," hissed Edward, throwing Mustang a look.

Mustang frowned to himself. "Sounds like our allies from Xing ran into a spot of trouble."

"I knew it! What did you get Ling to–"

A crackle of energy snaked along the ceiling, drawing their attention again.

Alphonse blinked. "Uh…"

A hole popped into existence, allowing three dark-haired foreigners in Xingese garb to slip through. They landed gracefully in the office below.

Ling sheathed his blade, smiling widely. "Ah, we found the right place. Lucky."

Ed scowled – an almost reflexive response when dealing with the Xingese prince. "Ling! I thought I told you to get the colonel out of here!"

Before Ling could reply, Alphonse interjected quickly: "Hold on. Where's Lieutenant Hawkeye?"

May and Lan Fan glanced at each other.

"The Young Lord found us right after May Chang had treated her injuries," explained the Yao bodyguard. "She left, saying that she needed to pick something up."

Mustang snapped his head around. "She's injured?"

"The bullet didn't hit anything vital. The lieutenant is fine."

The colonel looked like he wanted to argue with that, but he visibly stopped himself, took in a steadying breath, and went straight back to the matter at hand. "Prince Yao, I assume the ambush failed?"

"Oh it worked, alright," Ling handed Mustang a box-shaped device. "Up until our Ishvalan friend blasted his way out of May's trap."

Alphonse plucked the device from the colonel's grasp. "A tape recorder?"

"I figured a recording of Grumman's voice would come in handy at some point," elaborated Mustang.

"What do you think will be the enemy's next move?" asked May, perching herself on top of the coffee table.

Mustang glanced at her. "From what Fullmetal told me, it sounds like the lieutenant managed to foil Blake's plans to take out the higher military echelon. Now that Grumman is also out of reach… I expect he means to make a hasty escape."

"Instead of trying to blow us all up?" Ed raised his eyebrows.

"The building is almost empty by now, so there's no point. Besides," the colonel strung his fingers together. "He's a survivor, a fighter. He survived the Extermination, and he survived the gruelling years after. It's more instinctual for him to get out of here, regroup, and wait for the next opportunity to strike the military down."

"And you're going to let him get away?"

Mustang met Edward's cool gaze.

"No. Not this time."

The colonel stood. Al felt his eyes following the raven-haired man's every movement; this side of him, this purposeful persona, was entrancing in its resolve. It was moments like this when Alphonse truly believed that the colonel could do anything, that he was capable of anything.

But it was that exact same thought which also scared him.

With a flick of his wrist, Mustang casually tossed Ling an object which flashed red as it pinwheeled through the air. The prince grinned and caught it one-handedly.

Alphonse felt his breath catch in his throat as Ling uncurled his fingers to reveal a Philosopher's Stone.

"You used that to track us, didn't you?" said Mustang. "Can you do the same with Blake's Stone?"

"With Lan Fan and May Chang's help, definitely."

Within minutes, the group was crowded around the coffee table, carefully scrutinising the rough map of Central Command Mustang had hurriedly sketched on a piece of paper.

The Amestrians watched in anticipation as their Xingese counterparts hummed thoughtfully.

"You think that's it?" murmured Ling to no one in particular.

Lan Fan nodded seriously. "Most likely, Young Lord."

May Chang rubbed her chin with the air of a seasoned detective. "Sure seems like it."

In perfect synchrony, all three of them pointed at an isolated stairwell.

Al suspected they'd probably rehearsed that.

"He seems to have stopped moving for the moment," said Ling, crossing his arms in satisfaction. "Probably patching up the injuries he sustained escaping our ambush."

Mustang traced a gloved finger from the ground floor landing of that staircase, down two corridors, before pausing on a squiggly line marked Emergency Exit.

"For security reasons, besides the secret doors to the Homunculi lair, Central Command only has two exits: the main entrance to the atrium, and a back door used for evacuations."

Alphonse paled. "If he's heading for the back door, and General Armstrong is still there evacuating personnel…"

"She can handle him," the colonel cocked his head. "Probably. But I would rather not put a crowd of people, military or no, in direct danger of an enemy alchemist with a Philosopher's Stone."

"You're going to lure him away, aren't you?" asked Al slyly.

The colonel shot him a quick smirk. Alphonse reckoned it was going to take him some time to get used to Colonel Mustang visually acknowledging his presence again.

"If I hurry, I can use the opposite staircase to cut him off at this corridor," Mustang was tapping the map to indicate his point. "And perhaps draw him away to the main atrium. It's large, it's empty, it has a vaulted ceiling and a balcony connected to the upper floors. Perfect for Flame Alchemy or–"

"A sniper."

Everyone spun around, weapons or alchemy at the ready, way too tense for surprise visitors.

Lieutenant Hawkeye's flaxen hair was instantly recognisable as she pulled the door shut, Black Hayate padding obediently alongside her. "I figured you all might be here."

Mustang looked up, his eyes softening. "Lieutenant."

If she was surprised by the colonel's presence, or how his blindness had been inexplicably cured, Hawkeye didn't show it. But when her amber eyes met his, the smile that touched her lips was beautifully genuine.

"Colonel," she returned crisply.

Then the moment passed, and it was back to business for the two military officers. "Apologies for the delay, sir. Like you, I had to make a detour for supplies." Hawkeye nodded at the brand new ignition gloves on Mustang's hands.

It was then that Al noticed the extra holsters clipped to her belt, all housing fully loaded handguns. Her trusty rifle was strapped to her back.

"No need for apologies, Lieutenant," Mustang rose to join her at the door. "You're just in time."

The Elric brothers were scrambling up from their seats to follow when both the colonel and the lieutenant stopped them with equally hard stares.

"You two," declared Mustang almost triumphantly. "Are not coming."

Edward was taken aback. "BUT–"

"But–" pleaded Alphonse at the same time.

"This is non-negotiable," Mustang's expression sobered, and Al could tell with increasing alarm that he was being serious. "Bad enough I let two civilian children run around Central Command fighting off a rogue alchemist, but now that you've both sustained injuries, I can't let you involve yourselves further."

Edward's nostrils flared magnificently. "Children–"

"You can't–" started Alphonse.

But the colonel simply turned away, already addressing the next task on his list. Al gaped at this blatant display of disregard.

"Prince Ling Yao, I owe you for letting me use your Stone," continued Mustang smoothly. "There's no need for you or your associates to involve yourselves further – the Amestrian military can handle the rest from here."

Ling shrugged good-naturedly. "I can respect that."

Mustang looked to his adjutant. "Lieutenant, I'd understand if–"

Hawkeye didn't even let him finish. "I gave you my word that I would stand beside you, Colonel," her eyes were meaningful. "Even through hell."

The colonel blinked once, then smiled uncertainly. "Thank you, Lieutenant."

Alphonse's heart pounded in his chest, uneasiness taking over. That look Mustang had given him when he'd implied his use of a Stone; the look he was giving them now as he pulled the office door open.

Al didn't know why he said it, but before they left…

"Colonel?" he blurted.

He just had to know.

"What did… What did you see? At the Gate?"

Mustang's eyes widened marginally. Alphonse could feel Edward frowning in confusion at his back, but the younger Elric kept his attention focused solely on the colonel.

A single beat of silence. Al saw Mustang inhale as if to answer.

Then he swivelled and walked out without another word.

The door swung firmly shut behind their backs.

The tall stone doors grated shut behind him.

Roy groaned, slowly climbing to his feet from where he'd been unceremoniously tossed through by the grasping black hands. Even though he was ready for it this time, reopening the Gate was the furthest thing from his idea of fun.

He froze mid-crouch.

White. An endless white space.

He spun.

Doors. Towering above him. Engraved with intricate symbols unique to each alchemist.

It wasn't much to look at, but that wasn't the point.

"How does it feel, al–che–mist?"

Roy whirled back around, breathing hard. A few steps away from him, a humanoid figure sat crossed-legged, grinning widely.

Save for that uncomfortably wide smile, the figure had no features – like they were made out of pure nothing.

Roy swallowed down his apprehension and straightened. "You."

"Me. You. One. All. That is I, indeed, what you alchemists call Truth," Roy hadn't thought it possible, but that eerie smile widened even further. "How does it feel, to have back what you so unwillingly lost?"

Roy felt his hands fly reflexively towards his face, hovering in front of his eyes. He remembered that moment, all those months ago, as the world had seemed to fall away and he was wrenched first through this blindingly white space, then into unending darkness.

It was terrifying because he'd never felt so out of control. There was nothing anyone could have done that day to help him.

He let his hands fall to his sides, clenching them into fists. Not today though. Today, he was in control.

Roy forced a casual smile, keeping his tone light. "A bit presumptuous of you to assume that I came back to regain my sight. Who knows? Maybe I'm just dumb enough to try human transmutation twice."

Truth seemed to be taken aback by this, cocking their head in mild confusion. A sharp sense of satisfaction coursed through Roy.

Then Truth threw their head back and laughed.

Roy watched them warily as the white entity pretended to wipe away tears of laughter. "Interesting! It seems that even after your sacrifice, you remain as arrogant as ever, human alchemist!"

Truth lowered their head. Roy felt a shiver trace up his spine as he felt some unseen gaze land on him – as if Truth were truly paying attention to him for the first time.

"I wonder, if it is that arrogance which compelled you to come here with human lives in the palm of your hand?"

Roy froze.

The weight of the Philosopher's Stone in his pocket felt far heavier than it should be, its form seeming to burn both cold and hot against his thigh.

"What are you willing to sacrifice next to reclaim the toll you paid? What will it be this time...alchemist?"

The way Truth drew out the syllables in the word 'alchemist' set Roy's nerves on edge. He started forwards to speak, but no words would come.

"Will it be some other part of your physical body? A vital organ? Your soul?"

Roy snapped his head up at that last one. "What...do you mean?"

"Alchemists think of the Philosopher's Stone as a miracle. A way to elude the Law of Equivalent Exchange. But we know the truth, don't we?"

As Truth chuckled at their own playful pun, Roy fished the Stone out of his pocket, staring at the vial as it rolled back and forth on his open palm.

He'd always known the Stone wouldn't be a free pass. Perhaps that was part of the reason why he'd been reluctant to use one.

Because one way or another, he wasn't walking out of here without giving up something in return. A price. A cost.

"Your principles, your decency, your vision for the future." Truth crossed their arms, pleased that Roy had gotten the point. "The only tether keeping you from becoming a monster. That is the cost of using an object created from the blood of people you've wronged."

Roy wrapped his fingers around the vial, clutching it so hard he feared the glass might break. So it was true… This Stone in his hand was one of the many made during the Civil War, using the lives of Ishvalan people.

"Are you ready to pay the price, alchemist?" There was a hidden delight behind Truth's question, an anticipation for Roy's eventual answer.

Roy shut his eyes and breathed in. He thought of what he had to do, of what was happening back in the physical world while he stood here at the Gate. He thought of what he knew he couldn't lose.

He opened his eyes, facing Truth straight on.

"All this time, I've been afraid," said Roy, his voice low. "Afraid of becoming someone I'm not. Afraid of losing myself – to power, to violence. I was scared of facing all that: what I've done, what I've been through."

He paused, trying to find the words. Roy didn't know if he was saying this to convince himself or to convince Truth – but if he was going to move forward, it needed to be said.

"But I've realised that...I don't stand alone. There are people who I trust to keep me on the right path – even if I dislike relying on them," Roy snorted softly at the thought. "But they're there when I need them. They've always been there. And now, when they need me…"

Their faces flashed unbidden through his mind. His team, supporting him through thick and thin; the lieutenant, her honey-coloured eyes promising him a brighter future; the brothers, their golden hair flashing, grinning back at him over their shoulders.

"Because of them, I know I won't ever become that person," Roy smiled to himself. "I'm not afraid of him anymore."

Because he couldn't lose them. Because for them, any price was worth paying.

Truth smiled, baring their perfect set of white teeth. "I see you have made your choice, alchemist."

The Philosopher's Stone pulsed in Roy's hand, crackling with energy. Roy jerked backwards, nearly dropping it as crimson light flared from the Stone, encompassing everything.

Indecipherable whispers whipped around him like a whirlwind, hissing in his ears – the final voices of Ishvalan souls forever trapped as living energy.

Roy squeezed his eyes shut. I'm so, so sorry.

The doors at his back slammed open. Roy glanced at it, shielding his eyes from the Stone's overpowering glow, seeing only a writhing mass of darkness beyond.

The Gate.

He swivelled around and ran, allowing the tiny hands which reached ravenously for him to latch onto his clothes and hair. They drew him into their slithering embrace even as he leapt over the threshold, feeling nothing but a void at his feet.

"Goodbye."

Roy turned his head at the sound of Truth's voice, catching a final glimpse of their shimmering white form as the giant doors started to swing shut.

Truth offered him one final grin.

"Human."

"Colonel?"

Roy jolted back to reality.

Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye was watching him in that steady way of hers as they strode side-by-side down the corridor. Hayate scouted ahead of them, sniffing suspiciously at shadowed corners. "You spaced out there for a moment."

Roy smiled at her and shook his head. "Sorry. Just...thinking."

Riza made no other comment, but he had a feeling she understood what was on his mind. "Sir, do you have your gun with you?"

Roy blinked at the out-of-the-blue question. He patted down his pants, but save for his silver pocketwatch, he had nothing else on his person. Unsurprising, considering that he wasn't even in uniform.

"Uh... No? I was supposed to be on leave today, and um, I was in a bit of a hurry earlier," said Roy, trying not to sound too defensive.

Riza unclipped a holster from her waist and handed it to him. "Then it's a good thing I brought a spare."

Roy reluctantly accepted the offered handgun. "Surely I don't actually need–"

"In this weather?" Riza cocked an eyebrow, gesturing at the rain still hammering insistently against the windows. "You should probably have something else to protect yourself."

Roy winced at the gentle jibe. "It's not like I'm planning to take this fight outside…"

Despite his muttered complaint, he obediently checked that the gun was loaded before clipping the holster to his belt.

It wasn't long before they arrived at the designated staircase. They descended together, but at the first floor landing, Riza stopped and turned to address him.

"This is it," she saluted him. "I'll see you later, Colonel."

Roy saluted back in return. It was stupid, but the thought of proceeding onwards alone made him unnecessarily edgy. "Stay safe, Lieutenant."

"I will if you will. And sir," Riza allowed him the slightest of smiles. "I'm...glad that you're here."

Roy felt his breath catch in his throat. He cleared it awkwardly. "I… Likewise."

Riza's smile widened knowingly. Whistling once for Black Hayate, she whirled around and headed down the hallway.

Roy tore his eyes away from her receding back and continued on towards the ground floor, tugging the edges of his gloves to make sure that they were secure.

He paused on the next step, steeling himself.

Somewhere down there, he had a feeling that someone would be waiting for him.

On the opposite end of Central Command, the Ishvalan alchemist sat crouched in a similar stairwell, wincing as he examined his various cuts and bruises.

Releasing the Stone's destructive energy so close to himself...wasn't his best idea. Even if he'd managed to evade those mysterious warriors from Xing.

Evan Blake ran a hand over his wounds, using his bio-alchemy circle to heal them.

With the impossible power of the Philosopher's Stone, the healing process was almost instantaneous – when he lifted his palm, it was as if he'd never been hurt in the first place.

He paused to inspect the deepest cut of all, sustained not during his escape, but from his encounter with the Fullmetal Alchemist. The gash on his arm was still bleeding sluggishly, trailing red down his sleeve.

Evan raised his hand, then stopped.

He dug into the spare pouch attached to his waist and pulled out four small vials of synthetically manufactured blood. The stuff he'd been using to make chimeras.

Evan cocked his head in thought. He hadn't missed the way that the Elric brothers had made an unreasonably large effort to avoid killing his chimeras. The way they were affected by the creatures' smallest displays of humanity.

It had been mostly unintentional – Evan hadn't planned for the souls in the Stone to still be cognitive enough to retain some control when transferred into the bodies of his artificial creatures.

But perhaps he could spin it to his advantage.

He glanced down the tall staircase, spiralling into darkness.

Somewhere down there, he had a feeling that someone would be waiting for him.

Ten minutes later, preparations complete, Evan stepped out from a metal door into a featureless corridor on the ground floor, all injuries fully healed.

The lights in the ceiling felt too dim for this dreary night, the shadows deepened by the pouring sheets of rain. Lightning streaked across the sky outside the windows as Evan strode down the hallway.

As I recall, the back door should be…

He turned left, stepping into another, wider corridor.

Evan halted in his tracks.

At the end of the hallway stood a lone figure, waiting patiently. His hands were shoved casually in his pockets, the black greatcoat draped around his shoulders fluttering in some unseen breeze.

Evan breathed a small laugh to himself. "I had a feeling that you would be looking for me," he absently rubbed circles into the surface of his Philosopher's Stone with his thumb – always within reach.

"Colonel Roy Mustang."

The Flame Alchemist inclined his head, tone just as sarcastic: "It's a pleasure, bio-alchemist Evan Blake."

Evan took a step closer, a vial of chimera blood clutched in hand. He glanced around the corridor warily, but save for the two of them, it was utterly deserted.

Why would he come alone?

In a flash, Evan flicked open the vial and let a drop of precious genetic material fall to the ground. The circle on his palm and the Stone flared to life, and a single chimera emerged fully grown in front of him.

The creature instantly burst forward, intent on the only other living human in sight.

Roy Mustang didn't move from his position. Raising a hand in a nearly leisurely manner, he pressed his fingers together and snapped.

A stream of fire erupted into being, coiling around the chimera before it could even reach the halfway point between the two alchemists. Its screams echoed down the deserted hallway, instantly cut off as it was burned to ashes.

Silence stretched, taut, as Evan Blake stared down at the pile of scorched remains. Mustang dropped his hand to his side, seeming to be waiting for Evan's next move.

It's impossible for him to have hit a moving target so accurately, unless–

Evan snapped his head up. He couldn't tell what colour the colonel's eyes were from this distance, but he was willing to bet that they were a cold, obsidian black.

"You have your sight back," said Evan. "How?"

The colonel didn't answer, his face a cautious mask.

As far as Evan knew, there was no medical alchemy powerful or advanced enough to restore the vision of a permanently blinded man, especially not overnight. It was simply impossible.

Then it all clicked into place.

Edward Elric had seemed to know what the raw materials of a Philosopher's Stone were. Lieutenant Hawkeye had immediately recognised the object in his possession to be a Stone – and she wasn't even an alchemist. It only stood to reason that of course their commanding officer would have the same knowledge.

"You used one, didn't you?"

Mustang's expression didn't change, nor did he reply. But his silence was admission enough.

"Where did you get it?" No answer.

Evan felt his stomach twist in loathing. He fought in Ishval – surely he also knew…

"Was it a Stone from the Ishvalan Extermination?" asked Evan, his voice rising. Another thought struck him, and he chuckled in empty amusement. "Or did you make one yourself?"

This finally provoked a reaction – Mustang looked straight at Evan, a low growl in his throat: "I would never make something like that."

"Then it must be a remnant of the Ishvalan experiments," Evan fisted his hands. "Answer me!"

The colonel was quiet for a moment. "I...wasn't sure of its origin until recently," he said slowly, but his voice remained firm. "I needed it to put an end to this."

Evan breathed in sharply. Strange – when he'd first walked into this confrontation, Evan felt conflicted, hesitant even. After realising the truth of what had happened seven years ago, the reason why he was still alive, Evan wasn't sure if he could still hate the Flame Alchemist as deeply as he did before.

But now it was back. That burning pit in his chest. Every nerve in his body screamed with it.

"I guess my father was wrong in the end," his hands trembled, but Evan kept his voice even. "You haven't changed after all. Using human souls for your own benefit."

Colonel Mustang clenched his jaw. "I–"

"How could someone like you possibly care for Ishval?" said Evan, tightening his grip on the vial of blood in his hand. "When your entire career was built upon the dead bodies of my kinsmen!"

With those words, he smashed the vial to the ground.

Blood splattered messily over the tiles. Evan reached out his palm.

Mustang barely had time to brace himself before an entire horde of canine-based chimeras rose from the scattered droplets, more than Evan had ever created at one time.

Their jaws opened, strangled words spilling out.

"Please...Help me…"

"Why...I am here…"

"I can't…"

Evan watched with vicious satisfaction as the colonel's eyes widened in horror and for the first time, he took a step back.

"Interesting, how the souls in a Philosopher's Stone still retain a certain level of sentience, even after being used to transmute living creatures," commented Evan nonchalantly, tossing the Stone into the air and catching it in between two fingers. "It was less consistent before, but add a little human DNA and some bio-alchemy and – voila – my chimeras now have the perfect human vocal cords for clear speech."

Mustang retreated back another step, gaze following the chimeras' every move as they stalked towards him, sizing up their quarry.

"I made this Stone using Amestrians," Evan smiled darkly. "It'll be interesting to see how you react to their voices – their screams as you give them a second death."

Their moaning pleas reverberating off the walls, the chimeras broke into a dead run.

The plan was straightforward, and as always, required a bit of a performance on his part.

Then again, it wasn't hard to 'pretend' to retreat when almost a dozen bloodthirsty chimeras were pursuing him down the hallways.

It also wasn't hard to fake hesitation – only flaming those which got too close for comfort – as every time he did so, the fallen chimera emitted a very human wail.

Roy gritted his teeth and snapped, causing another pinpoint burst of flames to envelop a chimera about to lunge towards him. Screams and death he could handle. However, that didn't mean they weren't going to haunt his dreams for years to come.

The chimera fell back, shrieking in pain.

The alchemically created creatures were intelligent enough to spread themselves out, ensuring that Roy's focus was stretched thin trying to keep track of all of them. Some of them would attack when his attention was elsewhere, snapping in and out in a wary dance, slowly driving him back.

He allowed himself a moment to glance towards the very back of the horde, where Blake followed along at a casual pace, seemingly content to let his chimeras deal with the enemy. For now.

Roy briefly contemplated igniting a massive wall of flame which would – hypothetically – take out both the chimeras and their creator in one fell swoop. Of course, Blake also possessed a Philosopher's Stone – there was no telling what he might be capable of with that in hand.

But the Grand Cleric of Ishval had put his faith in Roy. And in return, Roy owed it to him, and he owed it to the Elric brothers, to try his damndest to resolve this without more death.

Blood only begets more blood.

Roy sent a streak of flames towards the chimeras; it barely singed them, but they backed off all the same. He had to be careful about keeping his distance – Roy didn't feel like testing his odds in a close-quarters fight against these creatures.

Almost there.

The corridor finally widened, opening up into the atrium at the very front of Central Command. Usually bustling with military officers rushing to and fro from different departments, Roy was satisfied to see that, due to evacuation efforts, it was now completely deserted.

I really need to thank General Armstrong later.

His attention was drawn back to the chimeras, whose human moans were growing louder as they grew more agitated: "I don't understand…" "Help...help…me..."

It was hard to accept that there was nothing else he could do for them now.

To his left, the rain continued to crash down on the massive marble staircase outside a multitude of glass doors. Roy didn't usually put much stock in bad omens, but he couldn't shake off the hostile threat of that raging storm.

Blake was growing suspicious – Roy could see it in the way he clutched his Stone even tighter to his body. The alchemist was no fool. The game was almost up.

Roy needed one final stunt to draw him out into the open.

Carefully measuring the distance in between the chimeras' relative positions, Roy gave himself a moment to breathe.

Let's hope I'm not too rusty.

The artificial creatures prowling around him seemed to sense the anticipation of some large-scale attack. Finally breaking ranks, they rushed in, claws extended.

Holding out his hand in front of him, Roy released the breath he had been holding in.

He snapped his fingers.

A spark blossomed from the brush of friction, expanding rapidly into a fiery serpent which leapt elegantly from one chimera to the next, streaking across the room to encompass them all.

Screams tore from their human throats. Roy snapped again, setting them alight a second time.

Come on out, Blake. You know you can't take me down with these petty tricks.

Evan Blake stepped out of the shadows, the transmutation circle on his palm crackling to life.

Red light gleamed, cutting eerie lines across the tiles. Acting purely on instinct, Roy only just managed to throw himself out of the way as a large section of the floor instantaneously imploded.

Dust billowed over him, stinging his eyes and nose.

No visibility–

His other senses now more tuned than ever due to over five months of perpetual darkness, Roy felt rather than saw the switchblade cleaving through the dust towards him.

Riza resisted the urge to abandon her position on the first floor, her rifle wedged in the gap between two balusters. An ornate steel parapet snaked around the atrium, offering her a bird's-eye view of the ground floor below.

With a crackle of alchemy, a dust cloud erupted from the point of impact, obscuring everything below. Riza cursed as she lost sight of both the colonel and the target.

Steady, Hawkeye. Her old shooting instructor's words echoed in her ears. Patience was a sniper's best virtue.

Riza knew that her skill as a sniper was paramount to making sure Evan Blake could be incapacitated in a non-lethal fashion. She would require two shots one after the other – the first to make him drop the Philosopher's Stone, the second to immobilise him completely.

Plans were all good and well, but Riza was secretly glad that if anything were to go wrong, she would also be able to make the killing shot if the colonel's life were in direct danger.

At her side, Black Hayate – who had been standing guard as still as a statue – growled softly.

"Hayate?" asked Riza, keeping her voice low and her eyes firmly fixed on the floor below. Once the dust settled, she would have to act fast and take the shot.

Her dog was pacing now, the growl swelling into a visceral snarl. Riza afforded herself a moment to glance at him; she'd trained Black Hayate herself, and he would only break silence while standing guard if something dangerous was approaching.

Facing the darkened end of the corridor, Hayate barked sharply.

"Hayate, quiet!" hissed Riza. The noise was giving her position away.

For the first time in as long as she could remember, Hayate ignored her command, barking insistently at the shadows.

That's when she heard it – the voices.

They slithered towards her, indistinct and warped: "Where is...this?" "How did I…" "Please...I need help…"

Then came the slow clicks of claws on stone – many, many clicks.

Riza clenched her jaw and drew a gun from her waist, temporarily abandoning her sniper post as she pointed her gun down the discordant quality of those voices – a wrongness – grated against her eardrums.

The darkness seemed to part, revealing a pack of chimeras stalking towards her. Saliva dangled from their jaws as they bared their teeth at the sight of living prey.

Clever. Blake must have predicted their strategy and planted these chimeras here to search for her.

Riza counted them silently, ignoring the human voices which emanated from their open mouths – what had that alchemist done to them?

Five, seven, fourteen, maybe more. More than she'd ever faced, and more than she thought he would ever create all at once.

Black Hayate's barking intensified. Riza knew she needed to deal with this quickly.

The chimeras sprung forward, the souls within them wailing in both agony and triumph.

Bracing herself against the recoil, Riza fired into the horde, no longer concerned with revealing her exact location.

Roy sidestepped the blade, allowing his reflexes to guide him.

It passed mere centimetres away from the side of his face. Roy felt the small rush of air at its passage as Blake emerged from the surrounding smokescreen. The Ishvalan evidently planned to take this up close and personal.

Clapping his hands together, Roy grabbed the switchblade before Blake could pull away, feeling its sharp edge slice through his glove.

Electricity crackled. The blade shattered.

Blake reacted instantly, his left hand shooting out to grasp Roy's arm.

Feeling the tingle of alchemy even through the sleeve of his coat, Roy yanked himself away, but he could already feel the bio-alchemist's transmutation circle taking effect.

His vision started to blur – Roy stumbled back, putting as much distance in between them as he could. The world threatened to fall away at the edges.

Somewhere above him, the familiar clatter of gunfire erupted, grounding him back in reality.

Roy spun around, still fighting against the dizziness. Barely visible on the exposed section of the first floor, Riza was firing round after round into a pack of snarling chimeras, her bullets punching mercilessly through eyes and skulls.

"Lieutenant!" he shouted, raising his arm shakily to snap.

"Colonel!" she kept on shooting, though her gaze flitted briefly towards him. "Don't get distracted!"

A nearby howl tore his eyes away, and he turned to see that he had his own newly created chimeras to deal with. Blake must have transmuted them while Roy was momentarily preoccupied.

Their speed frightening, before he knew it the chimeras were nearly on top of him, the powerful muscles in their hind legs coiling as they pounced.

Roy swung his arm around, knowing that he only had one shot at this. But even if he could incinerate the chimeras right before they reached him, their current momentum would send their charred corpses careening into him. Not exactly ideal.

There was, however, one other option available.

His fingers brushed together, igniting a spark.

A concentrated explosion of hot air erupted in between them just before those claws could gouge into him. The chimeras were blasted away the same moment Roy was thrown aside like a rag doll.

Scorching heat rushed over him, driving the air from his lungs as he smashed through the glass doors of Central Command.

Tumbling out into the rain.

For a long moment there was only the cold. The cold and the screeching sound of static in his ears.

The chill seemed to seep into his bones, freezing his very core. It was hard to imagine that he could ever feel warmth again.

The screech faded away to a low, distant hum.

And the world came crashing back.

Roy's eyes snapped open as the unforgiving rain continued to spill down his face.

He found himself sprawled at the bottom of the grand staircase, most likely deposited there after that self-inflicted blast. Groaning as the dozen small scrapes and bruises he'd sustained from the fall promptly made their presence known, Roy slowly climbed to his feet.

I may have overdone it.

But at least he was clear of those chimeras now – for the time being.

No sooner than he'd had that thought, the thrum of claws on slick marble drew his attention upwards.

A large shape barrelled towards him, bared teeth and sodden fur glinting briefly in the dim lights filtering through Central Command's many windows.

Roy instinctively raised his hand, but his fingers slid off each other uselessly, too wet to ignite even a spark.

Ah, shit.

With no time to put together a transmutation, Roy reached down and drew the gun Hawkeye had given him.

Between the moonless night and this godforsaken downpour, Roy could barely see five feet in front of him. Perhaps it was a good thing that the charging chimera was almost uncomfortably close.

Roy fired right into its forehead, the artificial creature staggering back at his onslaught of bullets. He retreated towards the central courtyard as the dark, lithe silhouettes of more chimeras slithered down the staircase.

Clutching the handgun with both hands, Roy promised himself that he would never doubt the lieutenant again.

Movement clattered to his right. Roy swung his weapon around, pulling the trigger as a second chimera emerged from the storm. It shrieked as bullets pounded into its skull, falling back, but before Roy could even pause to draw breath, another promptly took its place.

He fired again, but missed as his newest adversary dodged low and sprung.

Razor sharp claws found their mark, shredding into his sleeve as Roy dropped the gun with a gasp of pain. It clattered away into the inky background.

The soles of his boots skidding unsteadily over the slick ground, Roy scrambled away, clapping his hands together in a hasty attempt to invoke a transmutation.

Snarls approached him from behind, strangled voices hissing with endless suffering. He was completely surrounded.

The chimera landed nimbly and immediately launched itself at Roy again.

Roy flung his hands out almost desperately, hoping that his half-formed transmutation would be able to fend it off.

Its jaws stretched open, displaying a maw closer to those of apex predators than mere canines – designed by evolution to rip entire throats out.

Roy steeled himself for an impact which never came. The chimera was knocked out of the air mid-trajectory by a clenched fist of gravel and stone.

Roy blinked once at the transmuted monstrosity as somewhere behind him, a voice shouted: "Nice work, Al!"

Damn it. He knew that voice.

Riza was running low on weaponry.

Tossing aside her spent handgun and drawing a new one almost instantaneously, she continued to fire into the chimeras pursuing her down the hallway.

She couldn't even pause to reload – they were pushing in too many too fast.

Riza swore under her breath even as her bullets found their way into eye sockets and gaping maws with pinpoint accuracy: Out in that rain, the colonel won't be able to defend himself–

Black Hayate barked and pounced heroically onto one of the chimeras. Clamping his jaws around the creature's neck, Hayate hung on for dear life as it screamed and bucked.

Riza swore even more profusely.

Whistling once for Hayate, Riza fired a few more rounds at the approaching chimeras. One fell back, howling from its wounds – the others faltered, shrinking back for a mere second in wariness.

Taking advantage of the opening, Riza ducked swiftly into a nearby office, leaving the door open just long enough for Hayate to dive in between the legs of the attacking horde and through the small gap.

Riza slammed it shut and turned the lock.

Less than a second later, the door shuddered as several heavy bodies rammed into it. Riza moved further into the abandoned office.

Black Hayate pressed up against her leg, whimpering softly, ears drooped. While her pup – now nearly a fully grown dog – could give any fully-fledged soldier a run for their money, facing off against unnatural creatures three times his size was a bit above Hayate's pay grade.

"I know, Hayate," murmured Riza, swapping her handgun for her heavier-hitting rifle. "We'll figure things out."

The door continued to shake on its hinges as the chimeras scratched at the wood, trying to gnaw their way in. Hayate turned around to growl at the door.

Riza crouched, readying her rifle. She had to make every shot count.

Inexplicably, the sounds stopped – the scratching, the wails, even the soft muttering of human voices.

The lieutenant found herself holding her breath. Suddenly plunged into near-silence, the hammering of the rain and the pounding of her heart were almost deafening to her ears.

The neat slick! of a blade cutting into flesh. The crackle of a transmutation circle.

The enraged screams of the chimeras started once more.

Riza moved cautiously to the door. Outside, a battle was clearly being waged – one of blades and alchemy rather than guns.

It couldn't be...

Before she could reach out to open it, one half of the double doors burst free of the wall, flying right past her.

Riza looked on in mild astonishment as a scrappy young Xingese prince scrambled to his feet from the remnants of the broken door.

"Prince Ling?"

Roy spun around just in time to see the Fullmetal Alchemist whack the blunt end of his spear into a chimera. More swarmed the golden-eyed teenager, seeming to melt seamlessly out of the shadows.

"Uh, Al! A little help here?"

Light flashed in his peripheral vision. A wall rose from the ground in between the soaked-through teenager and the remaining chimeras, temporarily staving off their attack.

Oh for the love of –

"Fullmetal!" shouted Roy. "I explicitly told you and your brother not to–"

"Yadda yadda yadda," Edward rolled his eyes, voice pitching low in an absolutely shameless attempt to mimic Roy's tone. "I can't hear you over all this rain!"

At the final word, he swung his spear like a baseball bat, smacking it into the snout of a chimera which was trying to clamber over Al's wall. With a hiss, it disappeared back into the darkness.

Roy clenched his fists. He'd already given Edward plenty of leeway before this – he was not about to back down from this one. "Fullmet–"

Footsteps splashed towards them, interrupting him. Roy pivoted, hands already clasped together for a transmutation, but only the slender form of a second completely soaked teenager emerged into his line of sight.

Roy narrowed his eyes at Alphonse, who simply raised a hand apologetically and squeaked: "I'm so sorry about this, Colonel."

Roy didn't answer, opting instead to touch his hands to the ground – a curved barrier shuddered into existence behind Alphonse, tossing away a few chimeras attempting to sneak up on them.

Withdrawing his hands, Roy crossed them in front of his chest. "The two of you disobeyed a direct order–"

Alphonse winced. "I know–"

"–and yet," Roy sighed, glancing at Edward, who simply shrugged cheekily back at him. "Thank you for that last minute save, Alphonse. I'm not sure what I would've done without you."

Al looked up, surprised.

"Of all the stupid things to do – seriously?" snorted Edward. "Getting thrown out into the rain?"

Roy couldn't help but bristle. "I didn't–"

Ed, in his usual fashion, didn't even allow Roy the courtesy of letting him finish. Instead, the golden-haired boy strode right up to him, pressing a small package wrapped in wax paper into his open palm.

"We picked up a spare lighter from Havoc's desk," Ed grinned lopsidedly. "Bet you're glad we showed up now, huh?"

Roy raised an eyebrow right back at Edward, curling his fingers around the lighter's familiar shape. The inklings of a counter strategy were already furiously forming in his mind's eye – a lighter wasn't much better than his gloves if it got too wet, but if he could situate himself somewhere even marginally dry and ignite just the smallest of sparks…

It would be very, very difficult in such a heavy downpour, but he might just be able to–

A cacophony of snarls drew his attention back to the present moment. Edward suppressed an involuntary shiver at their exceedingly human-sounding cries as the chimeras continued to claw at the barricade – between Roy and Alphonse, they'd managed to completely surround themselves within a defensive wall, but they couldn't hide here forever.

What they needed was to draw Blake out and get that damn Philosopher's Stone away from him.

Roy snapped his eyes to Edward's. "Back when I fought Lust and Envy, I noticed something peculiar."

Ed exchanged a glance with Alphonse and nodded once, urging Roy on.

"Going purely off the size of their Philosopher's Stones…and what Alphonse once told me about his own experience using one," Roy tapped his fingers against his arm in thought. "Perhaps more energy is required to create living flesh and beings as compared to the non-living matter most alchemists deal with."

"I would say...that is certainly a valid hypothesis," replied Edward, frowning in contemplation. "Living matter is, after all, much more complex than non-living matter."

Alphonse promptly caught on. "How many souls do you reckon are in Evan Blake's Stone?"

"About a hundred, if I recall the details of the Waverley Incident correctly," said Roy. "Hopefully he's whittled down that number significantly, sending all those chimeras after the lieutenant and myself."

"So if we can't get close enough to take the Stone from him by force…" realised Edward.

Roy turned around, surveying their makeshift barrier.

Was Blake still out there somewhere, creating more chimeras to swarm them, biding his time? Almost certainly, decided Roy. The bio-alchemist was, after all, so close – so close to finishing what Roy had started during the Extermination.

Roy glanced back at the Elrics. He was going to give them the dressing-down of their lives once this was over, but for now – could he really admit it? – he was glad to have them with him.

"Here's what we're going to do."

The storm seemed endless – a raging tempest befitting the carnage which had befallen Central Command tonight.

Yet, Evan Blake wished it would end – standing on the grand marble staircase, half-blinded by the droplets seeping into his hair and clothes, the sharp chill was an unwelcome distraction from the boiling pit in his stomach.

It had been easy to call on that anger again. To direct it towards a single person with all the terrible power left in the Stone.

The distant howls of his chimeras were barely audible through the thrumming rain as he descended the final step. Striding out towards the middle of the courtyard, the side of his shoe bumped against a stray object. It clattered metallically, skidding a few inches across the rough cobblestones before stopping.

He glanced down, then crouched to pick it up.

Interesting.

The ground rumbled beneath his feet.

Evan leapt away as grasping hands of transmuted clay erupted around him. Channelling the Stone's energy through the etched circle on his palm, he blasted away the animated hands before they could grab him.

He peered into the rain, trying to identify the offending alchemist.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of gold. Evan pivoted just as the light of an alchemical reaction flared, producing a massive stone fist which corkscrewed through the air.

Evan easily reduced it to smithereens. Alphonse Elric?

Another flicker of gold, this time directly in front of him – Evan could only watch as a teenager in a red coat sprinted across the length of the courtyard, yelling at the top of his lungs:

"HEY UGLIES! FRESH LIVING BAIT, RIGHT HERE!"

Evan wasn't sure what had him more astonished – the fact that the Elric brothers had escaped their earlier encounter with him relatively unscathed, or the fact that the renowned Fullmetal Alchemist was running around hollering nonsense like a madman.

The sleek, wet bodies of his chimeras began to slink out of the shadows one by one, drawn by the boy's voice. It took Evan a full second to realise that Edward Elric was goading his chimeras on – an entire swarm of them was congregating around the former-alchemist, snapping and swiping at him as he weaved deftly through their ranks.

And throughout all of this, there was no sign of Roy Mustang.

This has to be some kind of trick–

Before Evan could decide on his next course of action, more stone fists came spinning out towards him from Alphonse Elric's relative position. Evan barely managed to obliterate them before the ground rolled, morphing into a scattering of razor sharp spikes which he briskly sidestepped.

The younger Elric was not going easy on him.

Evan was forced to divert his full attention to the incessant alchemical attacks, waiting for a brief lull in the barrage of curving pillars which struck at him like battering rams for his chance to return the favour.

But being unable to accurately discern Alphonse's position through the heavy shroud of rainfall, Evan's Stone-fueled counterattacks did nothing to deter the much younger alchemist. Somehow, Alphonse Elric was able to land his shots even while Evan couldn't – was he being protected somehow, perhaps alchemically moved out of the way by a second alchemist just before Evan's strikes could reach their target?

Then it dawned on him. Evan spared a glimpse at the gleaming form of the Stone in his hand. Out here in the near pitch black, its distinct crimson light was like a beacon.

Goddamn it. He tried fisting his hand to dampen it, but the Stone's inner glow – dim as it might be – still glimmered through the cracks in between his fingers.

Alphonse continued to push his advantage, pummeling Evan with what seemed to be an endless supply of recycled cement and stray building materials. Further ahead in the courtyard, Edward screeched to a stop in the middle of the large empty area, the silver flash of his spear discouraging his enraptured chimera audience from coming too close.

But it was impossible to escape, not with the circle of snarling predators boxing him in.

The chimeras seemed to collectively realise that they overwhelmingly outnumbered the small, yet strangely intimidating teenager – really, what was there to be afraid of? Several of them moved in for the kill, claws snapping out lightning fast.

For the briefest of moments, Evan swore Edward caught his eye.

The Fullmetal Alchemist grinned – a sharp and wicked thing.

A split second later, Edward was borne directly skywards on a platform which rose like a spiralling tower. The chimeras below snatched at mere air, momentarily bewildered as the platform curved around, depositing the boy a safe distance away.

And right there – emerging on the very edge of the mass of chimeras – was the colonel, the white of his now-useless gloves the only spot of clarity in this blurred landscape as he stood with his hands pressed together.

Evan swore and started forwards. Alphonse Elric's continued bombardment of alchemy intensified, slowing him down with walls and poles with pointy ends even as he demolished his way through them.

Colonel Roy Mustang slammed both hands to the ground. The courtyard shook, a circular wall emerging from the earth just as a whale might break the surface of the ocean. It swept around the conveniently clustered chimeras, constructing itself rapidly to trap them within.

Alphonse's assault on Evan ceased as the Elric poured the remainder of his resources into the colonel's massive transmutation, completing it with a domed roof to form a perfect hemisphere.

Evan reached out his hands. Did they really not consider that with the Stone, he could easily destroy this temporary prison with just a flick of his wrist?

But before he could trigger his transmutation, the floor around his feet crackled with alchemy. The topmost layer of tiles and cement peeled away, bucking upwards and throwing him hard onto his back.

In the short moment Evan lay there, too stunned to get up, Mustang produced a small object from his pocket, angling his body so that it was half-sheltered from the rain.

Clasping his hands around it as if in prayer, he flicked it open.

A single flame flared, brilliant despite the darkness.

A lighter.

It was then that Evan noticed the hemispherical structure was not completely enclosed – there was still a single gap at eye level, a small window allowing the rain to cascade in.

The flame grew, flickered, struggling to weave around the falling droplets as it streaked away, following a trail of concentrated oxygen.

Evan couldn't help but watch, mesmerised, as the thin ribbon of fire darted through the open gap.

A muffled explosion reverberated throughout the courtyard, barely contained by the domed structure. Fiery tongues licked playfully at the opening.

There had barely even been any screams, so thoroughly and swiftly his creatures had been incinerated. As the shockwave receded, only the whispered sighs of lost souls finally freed remained hanging in the air.

Mustang straightened, turning his head to regard Evan with a level gaze.

He'd taken them all out in one swoop – just like that.

Reacting on pure instinct, Evan raised his arm, feeding the Stone's power into the most devastating eruption he could muster.

The colonel immediately darted for cover, clapping his hands together as he ran. "Edward! Alphonse! Get down!"

Scarlet light zigzagged out from where Evan had touched the ground, blazing through the cracks and seams. Night and rain turned to bloody day.

The area in front of him collapsed violently inwards, shattering tiles and cement and brick. The hemispherical structure gave way under the impact, crumbling in on itself.

Evan felt himself being tossed several metres back as debris showered down around him.

The rain continued to fall.

Silence. Evan bent over, struggling to draw in a ragged breath.

A single footstep – a splatter, a thud.

Evan looked up, unsurprised to see a raven-haired figure step out from behind a slightly battered barrier.

The bio-alchemist clutched his Philosopher's Stone even tighter, ready for a counterattack. But the hard, smooth surface of the sinful stone gave way underneath his grip.

Evan uncurled his fingers, staring in dazed disbelief as the red sheen of the Stone receded into a dull black. It cracked down the middle, breaking into halves, before disintegrating into a fine powder which was soon washed away by the rain.

He was left staring at his empty palm. Of course. The Stone's energy, like any resource, was limited. And he'd just squandered it all away.

This was it. No Philosopher's Stone. No chimeras. Utterly alone.

"Without that Stone, you don't stand a chance against us," Evan raised his head – Mustang was only a few yards away now, striding steadily towards him. But there was no satisfaction in those dark eyes – only an unyielding firmness; a man merely doing what he had to do. "It's over, Blake."

No, not yet.

Evan reached behind him and pulled out the gun he'd picked up near the staircase.

He levelled it at the Flame Alchemist, who stopped mid-stride.

"You're right," said Evan.

"It is over."

Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye knew that she was running out of time.

Lan Fan flashed past her, a mere blur of movement recognisable only by a flicker of Xingese red, cutting through a chimera behind Riza.

Riza spun around, gunning down another about to sink its claws into May – who had just completed an alkahestry circle.

Energy crackled along the walls, electrifying several circles located at regular intervals down the hallway. A quarter of the chimera horde went down, jerking erratically.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye!" called Ling, navigating the battlefield with effortless ease. "Go! We can handle this from here!"

Riza wavered – these people had come to her rescue, even though Amestris's matters didn't concern them. They had no obligation to do this, yet they'd come.

She couldn't just abandon them.

Lan Fan somersaulted through the air, landing deftly on her feet. Catching Riza's eye, she saw right through the lieutenant's hesitation.

"Go." Lan Fan nodded once, firmly. "He's waiting for you."

Setting her jaw, Riza nodded back.

"Thank you."

Throwing back one last glance at her Xingese comrades, she turned and ran.

"Colonel!"

It was like a nightmare happening all over again.

Edward cursed to himself as he leapt over scattered rubble. If only he'd followed the colonel a little more closely–

"Fullmetal, stay where you are." Mustang barely glanced his way, his attention firmly fixed on the Ishvalan alchemist.

"I'd listen to him if I were you, Edward Elric," Blake was gradually getting back up onto his feet, keeping his gun trained on the colonel. "No one moves."

On the opposite end of the courtyard, Alphonse slowed to a stop, as helpless as his brother. His fists were clenched at his sides – as if to physically keep himself from clapping his hands and calling on his alchemy – they couldn't risk that, not with the colonel literally standing at point-blank range.

But Blake hadn't fired yet.

Mustang raised his hands, an almost casual gesture. "Alright. You got me."

Ed recognised that expression on his face – calm, determined. As if Mustang had seen something in Blake's eyes that they couldn't, and he was about to stake everything he had on a calculated gambit.

Mustang stared Blake right in the eye; unflinching. Slowly, with the caution of a swimmer testing uncharted waters, he took one step forwards.

Blake braced the gun. "What are you–"

"If you truly feel, deep down, that this is right," the colonel's eyes hardened.

"Then go ahead and shoot me."

Riza sprinted down the corridor, Hayate barking alongside her.

It was as if the urgency of the moment had seeped into her very surroundings – the air hung around her like heavy drapes, seeming to push her back with every step.

Swerving hard, Riza slammed shoulder-first into a pair of doors, finding herself in one of the few offices on the first-floor which had a window overlooking the front courtyard.

Keeping the lights off, Riza strode down the neat rows of empty chairs and tables, unslinging her rifle from her shoulder as she went.

Bracing it against the windowsill, Riza peered through the scope.

The world outside was blanketed in a seemingly impenetrable veil of pouring water. A few metres in front of the staircase, Riza caught a glimpse of white against dark.

The bio-alchemist. Blake. From this height and angle, the large staircase obscured him from direct view, but she could still vaguely make out the small, familiar shape in his hand.

A gun. A gun pointed at–

Riza tightened her grip on her rifle.

Ignoring the thundering in her ears, she considered the situation: she wouldn't be able to make a clean shot from here, not from this blasted angle.

Swivelling around, she ran out of the office, pausing only when a stray chimera – having wandered off from its pack – slunk around the corner. Riza wasted precious seconds lodging five rapid-fire bullets in its head.

She glanced up the hallway, thinking furiously. She only had two options – down or up.

If she went back down to the ground floor, she would have to waste time trying to sneak up on Blake from behind. But the stairs leading to the second floor were just down this hallway.

Making a split second decision, Riza darted towards the staircase.

Roy stared down the barrel of the gun, realising – at the back of his mind – that it was his.

The gun he'd dropped when that chimera had scratched him.

I see. Lan Fan told me she'd already disarmed him – I suppose I shouldn't have assumed he didn't pick up another weapon.

But this wasn't the time for pondering his mistakes. He resisted the urge to glance up at the windows surrounding the courtyard – Central Command's impassive facade stared down at them without judgement.

Roy trusted the lieutenant. And he trusted that she would be there. He just needed to buy her more time.

There was a palpable change in Blake since they'd last met in Ishval, all those weeks ago. The gun in Blake's hand trembled ever so slightly, his finger resting almost gingerly on its trigger.

He was hesitating. Something had changed, very recently, that was causing him to hesitate – Roy could see it in the war raging behind those garnet eyes. And maybe Roy didn't know what it was, but he knew he needed to spin it to his advantage.

Inhaling slowly, never breaking eye contact, Roy stepped forwards.

Blake braced the gun. "What are you–"

"If you truly feel, deep down, that this is right," Roy felt something harden within him. "Then go ahead and shoot me."

Blake blinked, thrown off balance. Roy waited, tense, as somewhere behind him, Edward shouted his name followed by the phrase "goddamned idiot".

Regaining his composure, Evan Blake simply laughed in his face. "You think you can bluff me, Colonel? All the false bravado in the world won't save you."

But he hadn't pulled the trigger.

"I know I have done unforgivable things," carefully, Roy took another step forwards. "I know I could've disobeyed those orders during the war, truly questioned what was right or wrong. But I didn't. So I know it's all on me."

Blake swallowed, seemingly unable to tear his eyes away. Perhaps this was the first time he was hearing an Amestrian soldier – a State Alchemist – confess his sins so readily.

"I'm not seeking forgiveness," another step. Unconsciously, Blake was beginning to retreat towards the staircase. "Just a chance to make things right."

"How can I trust you?" Blake clenched his teeth. "How can Ishval trust you, when you've used a Stone–"

"I've refused the Stone before," he tried to control it, but Roy felt his voice climb, a fire simmering just underneath every word. "But the lives of people I care for, the lives of innocent men and women who had nothing to do with Ishval – they were all under threat. I did what I had to."

Roy paused. Blake remained silent, but he was clutching the gun in his hand like a lifeline.

Step.

"I won't ever forget Ishval," the anger drained out of Roy, and his voice softened marginally – these words were meant only for Blake, and no one else. "I won't ever forget the people I killed, the lives I've destroyed. And I will make sure that Amestris never forgets either. We'll never forget...and we'll never go back to that."

Blake stared at him like a deer caught in the headlights, scarlet eyes wide, entranced. Roy moved even closer – just a bit more, and he would be able to grab that handgun before Blake could fire.

"I won't let another soldier be forced to murder people they're supposed to protect," continued Roy, eyes flashing imperceptibly towards where Edward stood, watching helplessly on. "That's my promise to you, and to Ishval."

Step.

Blake swallowed again, but when he opened his mouth to speak, his voice was hoarse, low, something like desperation eating away at the edges. "How can you promise that? How can you think..."

"I think that all this pain and hatred has got to stop," said Roy. "Look where that got you. Your Philosopher's Stone, those lives...all used up. And for what?"

The gun was nearly within reach now. Blake didn't answer his question.

Roy shifted cautiously, prepared to lunge for the weapon.

"All I wanted...was to find peace." Blake's almost absentmindedly delivered comment jarred something loose within Roy. He glanced up, seeing this Ishvalan alchemist for who he really was – a boy running scared from a broken home, seeking a purpose that simply wasn't there.

Roy inclined his head. "This has to end somewhere."

Blake smiled bitterly at him. His eyes, distinctive markers of his heritage, glimmered like polished rubies.

"Yes. It must."

A single gunshot rang through the air.

Riza burst into the second floor office.

Unwilling to waste further seconds fumbling with the latch, she simply smashed her elbow right through the window.

She positioned her rifle against the sill just as a single gunshot sliced through the rain.

For a moment, everything seemed to slow to a stop.

A thousand images flashed through her mind – a limp body, lying on the ground even as the downpour washed the blood away. She felt like someone had wrapped their fingers around her windpipe, cutting off her air.

Swallowing it all down, Riza put her eye to the scope, lining up her sights. A perfect angle. She could see her target clearly from up here.

She still had a job to do.

Breathe in. Out. Steady.

Riza pulled the trigger, taking the shot.

A second gunshot cracked across the sky, followed almost immediately by another.

Roy watched as Blake keeled over, handgun slipping through numb fingers.

The colonel reacted immediately, closing the final few steps between them as the Ishvalan crumpled to the floor. Pausing only to kick the gun away from reach, Roy crouched down next to him.

Blood poured from a bullet hole in his right wrist; more dribbled from another wound punched neatly through his knee.

Roy turned his head, glancing back at the smoking hole that Blake's own bullet had made in the ground, just several metres away from where Roy had been standing.

The Ishvalan's eyes flickered open as Roy transmuted a piece of rope from part of his greatcoat, securely binding Blake's hands behind his back.

Blake laughed dryly. "The lieutenant missed."

True, Roy was surprised that her shots had been non-lethal – intended only to incapacitate instead of neutralise – considering that Blake had fired first. But he suspected he understood her reasons.

"Well," Roy tore another strip from the thick material of his coat, using it to bandage Blake's injuries. The wounds themselves may be non-lethal, but the blood loss wasn't. "You're in no position to be complaining about the accuracy of other people's shots."

Blake chuckled, laying his head back against the ground as he stared up at the sky. His lips moved soundlessly, forming the words: "I should be dead."

For all intents and purposes, Roy knew he should be too. So why wasn't he?

Out of nowhere, a rough hand clamped down on Roy's shoulder, bodily dragging his attention away until all he could see was a pair of wide golden eyes. "Colonel! Wha–"

"I'm alright, Fullmetal," Roy interrupted before the boy could work himself into even more of a frenzy. He gestured behind him. "The bullet went right past me."

Edward blinked at him, dumbfounded. "What?"

More footsteps splashed across the sodden ground towards them. Roy staved off Alphonse's flurry of questions with a wave. "Alphonse, perfect timing. Could you head around to the other exit and find General Armstrong? I'm sure she would just love to take Blake into custody."

Al snapped his mouth shut, as bewildered as Edward. Nonetheless, he nodded and dashed off.

Ed was staring at the tiny hole in the ground that Roy had so callously pointed out. "You… That…" The Fullmetal Alchemist shook his head, bangs falling into his eyes. "Don't you ever do that again." He snapped viciously.

"Sure," replied Roy noncommittally. "No promises though."

Ensuring that his captive was secure, Roy looked up at the silent windows which lined Central Command's grey exterior – one of them, a window on the second floor, had been smashed through.

He raised a hand in the air to communicate that everything was alright, knowing that up there, the lieutenant would be watching.

What people often forgot about battlefields was that the restoration work after always took more effort than the battle itself.

So it was that Roy Mustang found himself swept up in a what was to be a long, long night of military proceedings; just like the Promised Day, with most of the generals having abandoned their usual posts, he found himself in the peculiar position of being one of the highest ranking officers still present at the scene of the disaster.

He strode down the empty hallway, finally alone after what felt like (and probably was) hours of organising people into some form of controlled chaos, sending teams of willing soldiers to scour the many rooms and corners of Central Command for injured personnel or stray chimeras.

Sighing wearily, Roy paused, his attention caught by his own wavering reflection in the clear glass of a windowpane. Pitch black irises, sharp and full of clarity, stared back.

He'd almost forgotten what it was like to see again.

Understandably, most of the Central City troops had been directing strange glances his way when they thought he wasn't looking – Roy was reminded that while his closest associates would be told the truth, for everyone else, he was going to have to come up with some plausible excuse for the sudden return of his eyesight. Definitely nothing which included the supposedly mythical Philosopher's Stone.

But that was a deception for another day.

"Yo Chief! Colonel Mustang!"

Roy turned around with the habitual air of long-suffering exasperation. "What is it, Lieutenant Havoc?"

Havoc grinned widely around his cigarette, not to be deterred. Breda trailed behind his colleague at a more reasonable pace.

"We ran into a warrant officer downstairs who was looking everywhere for you," Breda brandished a folder of papers. "Hiding from all the attention, Colonel?"

"Since when do I 'hide' from attention?" said Roy crisply, accepting the folder and flipping it open. His expression sobered as he traced a finger across the words.

"They just confirmed official numbers," explained Havoc, his light mood instantly dropping away into uncharacteristic solemnity. "Twelve dead, including a sergeant found on the outskirts of Central City – apparently Blake took him out this morning to acquire his uniform. The others were all killed by the chimeras."

"Mm," Roy flipped the page over. He'd recognised a few names on that list, albeit belonging to people he only knew in passing. He supposed if not for the lieutenant's quick thinking and General Armstrong's evacuation efforts, it could've been much worse – still, lives were lives. Maybe if he'd acted a little faster…

"The Fuhrer?" Roy asked, snapping the folder shut.

"Well and hearty," said Breda, his deadpan tone revealing just a sliver of sarcasm. "We took him to one of the safehouses you set up for such an occasion – he's being guarded by a small army of MPs."

"Excellent work, lieutenants," Roy passed the folder back. "The families of the deceased would have to be notified as soon as possible. Get that information to the people in HR as well – the Fuhrer will have to see to bereavement packages."

Breda nodded slowly, tucking the folder underneath his arm. He glanced at Havoc.

"Hey Colonel… I know the circumstances were...very much less than ideal," Havoc tried for a reassuring smile. "But we're glad to have you back."

Roy raised his eyebrows. "I wasn't aware that I had been absent in any way."

Havoc rolled his eyes. "You know what I– Whoops, incoming at twelve o' clock!"

Roy swivelled just as Major General Olivier Armstrong emerged from an adjacent corridor, barking orders at some poor soul on the other end of a handheld radio. Snapping smoothly into a salute, he noticed that Havoc and Breda had already made themselves scarce. Traitors.

"General Armstrong," greeted Roy. "It's been a while."

"Tch." Armstrong glanced sidelong at him, deeply unimpressed. "Get lost, Mustang."

Roy clasped a hand over his heart dramatically, feigning hurt. "Why, General. I just thought that I could be of use to you."

"This place doesn't need two commanding officers hounding after those nincompoops they call recruits," General Armstrong stalked right past him, never breaking stride. "Besides, you're getting blood all over my floor."

Roy frowned, inspecting the makeshift bandage he'd wrapped around the deep gash on his arm. Fair enough, the bandage was completely soaked through.

"Your floor, eh?" smiled Roy. "We'll see about that."

Olivier Armstrong merely threw a knowing smirk over her shoulder. "Get out of here, Mustang."

Roy tucked his hands in his pockets. Of course, it just wouldn't do for him to disobey a direct order.

Roy found the Elrics in the Central Command infirmary.

He paused at the threshold, surprised to find May Chang flitting in between waiting military personnel, healing wounds and treating injuries as Alphonse followed at her heels, helping out wherever he could.

Edward passed by, cradling a tray of bloodied bandages. "Took you long enough, Colonel Bastard."

"I'm surprised you brothers are still here," admitted Roy, allowing himself to be ushered into an empty chair. "As well as May."

"It's no trouble at all," May appeared at his shoulder, smiling warmly. "Besides, Sir Alphonse wanted to learn alkahestry, and how could I say no?"

His arm was quickly taken care of and dressed in fresh bandages. Roy had also torn a few stitches from his previous landmine-related injury, which May had to painstakingly replace.

"Don't stretch yourselves too thin," cautioned Roy, shrugging his battered coat back on. "It's already been a long night."

The Elric brothers exchanged mischievous smirks which immediately sent Roy's alarm bells ringing.

"Speaking of…" drawled Edward, his nonchalant tone all the more suspicious. "This infirmary has an extra room which is also absolutely, completely empty. Surely you weren't thinking of driving home in that state of exhaustion?"

Roy wasn't even given the opportunity to protest before the brothers more or less physically hauled him to an interconnecting room, shoving him through the doorway.

The door clicked shut behind him.

Sighing his annoyance, Roy started back as the curtain around one of the beds was flung open, revealing a pair of shimmering amber eyes. "Colonel?"

Roy felt his shoulders relax. "Lieutenant. It appears that I have been deceived by the Elrics."

Riza cocked an eyebrow questioningly, the handgun she'd been cleaning still perched in her hands. Roy waved it off as unimportant. "It doesn't matter. Mind if I join you?"

The lieutenant shifted, vacating a space next to her. Roy perched gingerly on the edge of the bed, hyper-aware of their proximity. It'd been a while since they were last left alone like this.

For a long moment, they sat together in silence. Riza continued to clean her gun.

"How...how's the shoulder?" asked Roy.

"It's just fine. May Chang is an excellent alchemist."

"She is, isn't she?" he paused awkwardly. With her, it always felt like he had so much to say...but no words to say them.

But she'd always understood.

Riza sighed in knowing exasperation, putting the gun down on her lap. "It's okay, Colonel."

Roy turned around, meeting her eyes. Recognising the rare tenderness reflected in those honey-gold depths, he felt himself being drawn even closer.

Very slowly, very cautiously, he laid his head down on her uninjured shoulder, careful not to jostle her wounds.

Roy shut his eyes and exhaled, feeling the tension drain out of him. He hadn't even realised how tired he was. "You didn't kill him."

Riza brushed gentle fingers through his hair. Roy slid an arm around her waist, savouring the warmth of her touch. "I didn't," she confirmed.

"Why?"

Riza seemed to contemplate her response. "He fired before I could. And even though I feared the worst… I knew I wouldn't be justified taking the killing shot. If it'd been to protect you, I would've done it in a heartbeat, but–"

"Because he fired first," Roy examined her calm expression. "You would've simply been avenging me."

Evan Blake knew that. He knew the lieutenant could've killed him for taking that shot. He'd been fully prepared to die.

Riza nodded stiffly. "You wouldn't have wanted me to do that, sir."

"It must have been hard," murmured Roy, catching her fingers with his free hand. He pressed them to his lips, hoping to offer her the same comfort that she'd so willingly offered him. "But you did the right thing."

"For what it's worth…you did the right thing too, using the Stone," said Riza, her voice barely a whisper. "If you hadn't stepped in, the Elrics would've been in deep trouble."

Roy hummed thoughtfully. "When you put it that way… I suppose it was no choice at all."

Red light spilled through the open window, catching his eye.

The storm had long since passed several hours ago, but what it had left behind was an entirely new world. As the sun began to rise on the horizon, setting the violet sky on fire – the vast sprawl of Central City glimmered like a thousand stars, the raindrops still lodged on rooftops and streets reflecting the scarlet light of dawn.

"Do you think it's over, Colonel?" Riza's voice startled him out of his reverie.

Roy snuggled closer – her uniform smelled of gunpowder and detergent. "I don't know. The roles we played in Ishval… I don't think it'll ever stop haunting us," he looked up, capturing her brilliant gaze with his own.

"But whatever happens from now on, I know we'll be alright."

Riza Hawkeye smiled at him.

It was the most breathtaking thing he'd ever seen.