Author's Note: Happy FMA Day! I'd been hoping to update this fic more frequently than once a year, but unfortunately, other fandoms have been eating me alive. Still, I hope you'll enjoy my further explorations of this AU. Although Ed and Al don't encounter Barry the Chopper in his human body in Brotherhood, I thought this scenario from the first anime would be a great chance to introduce male!Winry and do some more exploration of what it's like for El in the military. I didn't end up spending much time with male!Winry, but at least now you'll get an idea of what he's like. And even though I'm following the first anime's version of events more than Brotherhood's, there's no real conflict between them, so I think it works.

for the anonymous guest who gave me the idea to do this

A headache had been steadily building behind Roy's left temple all morning, and the presence of an irritable Elaine Elric in his office wasn't helping a bit. "For the last time, no," he growled, not looking up from the report he was proofreading. Or rather, trying to proofread.

"That's it?" the twelve-year-old girl on the other side of his desk snapped. "Just no? Come on, Mustang, just let me go after this psycho already. It's a better use of my abilities, and you know it!"

Roy finally looked up at her. He'd been trying to throw her off this crazy demand by practically ignoring her, but it had been fifteen minutes and that clearly wasn't working. "You already have an assignment. Have you finished the inventory of Shou Tucker's research yet?"

El looked away, crossing her arms and pursing her lips in a pout, looking for all the world like the petulant child she was. "I don't...want to do that..."

Despite himself, Roy couldn't help sympathizing with her a little. Tucker had been something of a mentor for the Elric sisters, as they'd studied for the exam. So when he'd shown his true colors, in the most disturbing and sickening way possible, it had understandably shaken El. He'd seen the way the Elrics interacted with little Nina Tucker, almost as if she were their own sister. They probably never wanted to darken the doorstep of the Tucker mansion again, and he couldn't really blame them for feeling that way.

But there was work to be done. El might be only twelve, but she had made her choice to give up her childhood and join the military. She'd had dozens of chances to turn back and think better of it, but she'd persevered and now she was here. She'd asked to be treated like an adult, so he would treat her as such. "You've been given your orders, Major," he said shortly. "Now follow them."

El bristled at this reminder of the nature of their relationship. She pulled out the silver watch she'd been given barely a week ago, and slammed it onto the surface of his desk. "Then I quit."

Elaine Elric stormed out of the office, leaving the hard-won symbol of her outstanding success glittering on his desk. Roy heaved an aggravated sigh, massaging his throbbing temple. He should probably be panicking, right? The key to his own success had just run out the door, possibly never to return. What kind of scandal would result from this? He would be the laughingstock of the entire military, known as the man who lost the greatest asset the military had seen in years.

But he had neither the time nor the energy to go chasing after a bratty little girl. He was already up to his ears in the Tucker case, not to mention the investigation into the very same killer El wanted to track down.

Roy hesitated, staring down at the report on Tucker that was due to General Grand by the end of the day. The sentences ran on and on, blending meaninglessly together before his eyes. Heaving a sigh, he shook his head and hunkered back down to go over the last paragraph he'd written before El barged in and broke his train of thought. Maybe if he concentrated, he could get it finished before lunch and then take a nap.

Winston Rockbell stepped off the train in Central Station, breathing in the smoky, smoggy air of the big city for the first time. He wished he could have gotten here in time to celebrate with El the day she'd become a State Alchemist, but they hadn't even called to tell anyone the good news. He'd had to wait for the article in the paper.

Oh well. This way, he could make his visit a surprise. He followed the signs to the station's exit, and saw that he was on a street that led straight to the military headquarters, which he knew from pictures in history books was in the very center of the city. It would be a bit of a hike, but probably not much more than the distance from his house to the station in Risenpool. Hefting his overnight bag, which was extra heavy because of all the tools in it, Winston started off down the street. The military headquarters was as good a place as any to start his search.

Winston looked around curiously as he walked. He'd been to East City once before, but never to the bustling metropolis of Central City. It was exciting to see such a wide variety of people thronging the streets, all going about their business at once. It was like the marketplace back home, only ten times busier.

It turned out that the military headquarters was a lot further away from the train station than he'd thought. The building was so big that it looked closer than it actually turned out to be. By the time he finally got to the wide open space in front of the main entrance, he was quite ready to grab the Elric sisters and make a beeline for the nearest cafe to get some ice cream and actually sit down.

But when he explained what he was there for (after enduring several impertinent questions about what a kid was doing in the military headquarters), and the receptionist reluctantly called up El's superior officer, it turned out that no one knew where either El or Addie were. (Not that they should be expected to know Addie's whereabouts, he reminded himself—she'd decided not to become a State Alchemist, after all.)

His forehead thunked onto the receptionist's desk as he groaned loudly. "You mean I came all this way and now I can't even find her?" It was just like El, to go haring off on some daredevil adventure right when he was trying to pay her a visit...

"In future," the receptionist said in disapproving tones, "you should call ahead to schedule an appointment...sir."

Winston pushed away from the desk and looked up at her. She was scowling at him over her small, round spectacles, not unlike the crotchety old librarian back home, who only ever seemed to smile at Addie.

As if the thought of her had conjured her presence, a familiar echoey voice rang across the large lobby. "Win?"

With a start, Winston turned to see a large suit of armor clanking across the marble floor. "Addie!" he cried with a grin, grabbing his heavy bag and rushing over to her. "I was just looking for you!"

"But...wh-what are you doing here?" Her voice displayed the astonishment her rigid, expressionless helmet could not.

"I came to surprise you!" Winston announced, spreading his arms as if he were on stage. "So...surprise! Plus, I figured El's automail could probably use a tune-up; she probably hasn't been oiling it like I told her to, has she?" He glanced around, all too aware of the absence of a certain loud-mouthed little girl. "Where is El, anyway?"

"That's just it," Addie groaned. "She went tearing off a couple hours ago, and now I can't find her! I just went to see if she was in Colonel Mustang's office—oh, that's her superior..."

Winston quickly explained that he'd just heard the same information from the receptionist. With a groan, he tipped his head forward to rest against Addie's arm. "Why does she have to make life so difficult for us? I mean, not that it's unusual for her to go racing off all over the place, but at least she could've told you where she was going!"

When Addie didn't say anything, Winston straightened and looked up at her. It was still hard sometimes for him to read her body language, since she looked so different now from the golden-haired girl of their childhood. But the slump of her gigantic shoulders and the way her helmet tipped forward made her look dejected, even though he could see no expression. "Addie? What aren't you telling me?"

Addie made the sound of a dejected sigh. "Something...happened. It's why she's been so upset lately..."

A sudden burst of laughter from a couple of passing soldiers made Winston look up, and he realized what a public place this was. They were already drawing a lot of stares—an antique suit of armor talking to a twelve-year-old boy couldn't be a common sight, even here.

"Come on," he said, reaching up to put a hand on her back. "Let's go sit outside in the sun, and you can tell me all about it."

"Look, Roy, I don't know what to say," Hughes said as they walked down the hallway to the cafeteria. "I may be a father, but my little angel doesn't have teenage hormones to muddy the waters. She just sits there and looks adorable—see, like in this picture here? Gracia bought this cute little onesie that says 'Daddy's Little Girl,' and it's Elysia's favorite, see, you can tell—"

"I get it, Hughes!" Roy snapped, raising his hand on instinct to fend off the shower of photographs Hughes was trying to shove in his face. Roy was still amazed that anyone could take so many pictures in less than three months. The poor kid was going to go blind from all the camera flashes before she was five years old. "And El isn't a teenager," he added, trying to stay on topic, "she's twelve. She insists on being treated like an adult—except for when it inconveniences her, and then she reverts to childishness."

Hughes gave him a lenient smile, similar to the one he made whenever his daughter started to cry. "Ah, you have to cut those girls some slack. They're off to a rough start, that's all. You've let El blow off some steam, and she's had time to cool down now. Just talk to her gently, and I'm sure you can smooth things over."

Roy grunted noncommittally. He was just about at the end of his rope with El right now; if she didn't apologize, he wasn't sure it would be a good idea to keep her in the military regardless of how embarrassing that would be for him. This wasn't the place for children, and if she continued disobeying and mouthing off, she'd be in far worse trouble than anything he could dish out.

The two paused in the doorway to the cafeteria. Off-duty men and women in blue uniforms dotted the long tables that filled the large room. It was between the high-traffic times for the cafeteria, but the kitchen staff kept leftovers warm for those who took their meals at odd times, and there was a constant supply of coffee and tea off to the side. Most of the soldiers were bunched up in groups, chatting with coworkers; a few sat alone, working on paperwork as they ate.

Roy could tell at a glance that El wasn't in the room. "Where is she?" Roy asked, scanning the faces of the room's occupants a second time just in case. There was no sign of El's garish red coat or waist-length blonde braid. As a State Alchemist, she was given a little more leniency about the dress regulations, so she was easy to pick out of a crowd. Especially considering she was practically half the height of everyone else.

"Well, we were sitting over there when I talked to her..." Hughes said, pointing to a table over by one of the long windows that looked out over the parade grounds.

The table was empty except for a binder sitting open at one end. Roy strode over to it and glanced down at the binder, wondering if someone had left it there while going to get some food. But then he took a second, harder look. The binder was full of crime scene photos, depicting the gruesome work of the very serial killer El had been asking about. A few of them bore circles in red ink around important aspects of the crime scenes.

Hughes clicked his tongue disapprovingly, flipping the binder closed and picking it up. "I told El not to leave this lying around..."

Roy looked up at his friend accusingly. "You gave her this?"

Hughes's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Yes... What, you didn't assign her this case?"

Roy scowled. "Do you really think I would put a twelve-year-old girl on the case of a serial killer who targets young women?"

Hughes met his gaze steadily. "So is she a skilled alchemist and a soldier, or is she a helpless little girl? These mixed messages might be part of the problem, you know."

With an aggravated sigh, Roy stalked over to the window, looking out at the shadows creeping across the sunny parade grounds outside. "She's the one who asked me to treat her like an adult. But when I do, she throws a temper tantrum."

"Huh," Hughes said flatly. "It's almost like she's a kid who has no idea how to be an adult."

Roy shot Hughes another glare as he joined him at the window.

"She's hurting, Roy," Hughes said softly, gazing out the window. The humor melted away from his expression, leaving only sadness in its wake. "I saw her interacting with Nina Tucker. They were like sisters. And, well...you know how she feels about sisters." He nodded at something in the distance, and after a moment Roy found what he was looking at: Addie sitting on the front steps next to a boy who looked about El's age. It was so hard to remember that the soul inside that huge suit of armor was only eleven year old. "To lose Nina—to lose her like that... There was nothing she could do. But that doesn't stop her from feeling like it was her fault."

Neither of them looked at each other. They didn't need to see the dead, hollow shadow in each other's eyes to know they were both thinking of the atrocities they hadn't been able to stop. Roy remembered all too well how he had turned from the battlefield with a fire burning in his heart—not a warm, comforting ember, but a ravenous blaze demanding that he make it right. For him, his participation in genocide had been the spark igniting the flames of his ambition.

But El? She had failed to protect someone she loved from becoming a victim of the alchemy she'd turned to as her only source of hope. Assigning her to inventory Tucker's research was like shoving her face in the memory of her betrayal. No wonder she'd wanted to get out, to pursue a culprit in the hopes of stopping him before he could cause more tragedies like the one she'd faced.

Suddenly, he refocused on Addie and the boy sitting on the front steps of Headquarters. He frowned, trying to place the boy, though he couldn't see any details from this distance. He looked vaguely familiar... Oh, right. There'd been a boy in the house where he'd first met the Elric sisters. A boy with blond hair, who had looked nervous when he'd seen the gun at Roy's belt. Winchell? Wilton? Something like that. That must have been the young man who'd called up to his office, looking for El. Right after Addie had dropped by, looking for El...right before he'd run into Hughes, whom she'd apparently sought out to get information on the serial killer...

Roy felt his whole body tense up as the growing dread solidified into a terrible certainty. "Hughes," he said, his voice deceptively calm. "Gather up your team, and arrange for backup while I get Hawkeye and the others."

Hughes immediately straightened, turning to him with a look of alarm. "What is it?"

Roy's mouth was dry, and he swallowed with difficulty. "Full Metal's gone after the killer. Alone."

El groaned as she slowly woke up. Her head was pounding with a headache she could already tell would plague her for the rest of the day, and her left arm was tingling. Had she slept on it again? It was so hard to find a comfortable sleeping position, with an automail limb on each side of her body.

Automail... She tried to stretch out her right arm, and found that nothing responded. Cracking her eyes open, she peered over to the right and saw the right strap of her black tank top slipping down over her empty shoulder port. Her right arm was missing.

Eyes popping open all the way, El raised her head from where it slumped down almost to her chest and looked up. Her left arm was extended above her head, attached to a horizontal metal beam above her with a thick chain. She hung suspended from her left arm, which had to support all of her body weight (including her heavy left leg). The angle was cutting off her circulation, and she couldn't feel her fingers when she sluggishly rubbed them against each other. Her toes swung free in the air, unable to touch the floor.

Warily, El peered at her surroundings, trying to figure out why she was hanging from the ceiling with only one arm. The room was dark, the only illumination a single fluorescent bulb a few feet behind her. And it was cold. Really cold. When she let out an experimental breath, it came out in a small cloud she could barely make out in the darkness. It was like being in a refrigerator...

Her breath caught in her throat. No, not a refrigerator. A freezer. Farther along the metal beam she hung from, there were several indistinct shapes hanging from hooks. She couldn't make out many details, but she would bet her other arm that they were carcasses of animals, hanging in an industrial freezer and waiting to be butchered.

Butchered...

The serial killer. The crime scene photos, full of grisly bodies hacked to pieces. The shape she'd noticed at the edge of several photos, a squarish outline of moisture showing where a refrigerated truck had been parked. She'd recognized it from the many times Winston had dragged her and Addie to watch the delivery truck pull up to the general store in Risenpool, gushing about the ingenious technology that made refrigeration possible.

And when El had noticed the telltale signs of a refrigerated truck near almost all of the crime scenes, she'd circled them in the photos, left the binder on the table, and rushed off to find every business in the vicinity of those crime scenes that might require a refrigerated truck. What a perfect way to transport victims without suspicion. Even if a butcher was found with blood all over his hands, no one would suspect him.

El closed her eyes when her head gave an especially painful throb. She couldn't remember anything past the moment she'd burst into the alleyway behind Barry's Butcher Shop on 12th Street, and triumphantly located the refrigerated truck parked in the back. She didn't remember blacking out or even hearing someone come up behind her, but someone must have snuck up on her and knocked her out, then trussed her up here for...

She shuddered, trying not to think too hard about that. Whatever the reason was for him not killing her immediately, she needed to get out of here before he changed his mind.

"Oh, good, you're awake!" cried a cheerful voice behind her.

El flinched, craning her neck around to see a tall, skinny man wearing a clean white apron emblazoned with Barry's Butcher Shop. Barry looked so ordinary, it was hard to imagine him hacking people to pieces. His short, dirty-blond hair and bland, squarish features made him exactly the sort of man who could disappear into a crowd simply because of how unremarkable he looked. But the gleam in his eyes—and the large cleaver he held casually in his hand—sent chills down El's spine.

"I was hoping you'd wake up by the time I got my knife sharpened," he continued, raising the butcher knife so it glinted in the meager light. "I always prefer it when they're awake. It adds a certain...spice to the meat, don't you think?"

"You're the killer," El said hoarsely. Her throat was dry; she had to clear her throat before she continued. "You killed all those people...why?"

"Why?" Barry mused, tapping the blunt edge of the knife against his chin. "I guess...because it's fun."

El wanted to gag. "You can't kill people for such a dumb reason!"

Barry's eyebrows raised in mild surprise, as though she'd just said the sky was green. "Oh? But that's always why I've killed people. I started with my wife. We got in an argument about something stupid, I forget what. So I grabbed a knife and carved her up. And that's when I realized...in the end, we're all just meat." He ran a thumb down the flat of his blade, as if admiring the way it shimmered in the darkness. "Like animals, we're just bones and blood and meat. The only thing that matters is how well you can carve that meat."

When El had imagined what the murderer must be like, she'd unconsciously been picturing Tucker's crazed, hysterical laughter. She'd expected the same kind of manic despair that had driven him to the atrocity of fusing his daughter and his dog into an twisted monster. But Barry spoke as casually and comfortably as if he were explaining basic mathematics. As if killing people was the most natural thing in the world.

El realized, belatedly, what a huge mistake it had been to rush into this alone.

"Have you ever thought about that word?" Barry continued, slowly beginning to circle El as if to examine her from every angle. "Carve. It's so appropriate, isn't it? When you can separate flesh from bone just right, it's like a beautiful work of art. And you have to start with the right subject, you know. Females have a higher ratio of fat, so the tissue is softer...and the younger they are, the more tender the flesh...but they can't be too young, or there just isn't enough material to work with. I've been experimenting to improve my skill, but...I still haven't found my masterpiece yet."

Suddenly, he leaned in close, standing on his toes to leer up at her face. "Will you be the one?"

El rammed her left knee up into Barry's chin, causing him to stumble backwards with a curse. He raised his cleaver and lunged back towards her, but El was ready for him. She hadn't suffered through a year of her master's harsh tutelage just to sit there and let this nutjob hack her to pieces. Gripping the chain with her one remaining hand, El swung her legs back to gain some momentum, then kicked out at Barry when he got close enough. Her boot connected with his cheek, and he went sprawling onto the floor.

Swinging her legs again, El used the momentum to swing herself high enough that she could wrap her legs around the metal beam she was chained to. With only one arm, she couldn't work herself free of the chain. If only she had two hands, she could clap and transmute...

El gasped. Her belt buckle pressed against her stomach, wedged between her body and the metal beam. She squirmed, straining her wrist as far as she could, frantically trying to unfasten the buckle and get the prong free. Her stomach muscles burned and trembled with the effort of holding her torso up against the beam, without her arm to hold her up.

She was so focused on what she was doing that she didn't notice Barry until she felt something swiping at her braid, which dangled down below her. She looked down in alarm as she finally managed to pull the leather strap out of the buckle.

Barry stood below her, blood dripping from his torn lip. His eyes were alight with an insane excitement as he raised the cleaver again.

Frantically, El pulled out the prong of her belt buckle and scratched a circle in the metal beam. Her legs were trembling, her abdomen was burning, and her wrist ached as she strained against the chains to blindly scratch out the most basic of circles.

Just as she finished the crooked star shape in the center of the circle, a hand closed around her dangling braid and yanked her head down. Her torso swung down, and she caught an upside-down glimpse of Barry swinging the cleaver towards her neck.

El's thumb pressed against her hastily-scratched circle, which glowed with energy. The metal beam, and the chain wrapped around it, reformed into a short metal pole that detached from the rest of the beam. El grasped the pole as she suddenly tumbled to the ground, swinging it out blindly as she tried to get her automail leg under her to break her fall.

El fell in a heap on top of Barry, whose cleaver clattered onto the floor a few feet away. In the scuffle of trying to get away from the butcher, El's hair slipped from his grip. She frantically stumbled away from him, focusing only on putting distance between them. Instinctively, she ran towards the light.

The single light in the darkened room shone down on a white table covered with old blood stains—perhaps where Barry had butchered his other victims. Now, the only thing lying on its stained surface was El's automail arm, gleaming and intact. El didn't waste time questioning why Barry had taken it off, or whether he knew what she could do with it. She dropped the metal pole and grabbed her arm instead, jamming it back into her shoulder port.

Agony blazed down her nerves, and she let out a scream before she could stop herself. Her vision went white, and she was dimly aware of her knees colliding with the floor. But she couldn't pay attention to the pain now... She was only inches away from death...

Gritting her teeth against the pain, El slammed her palms together and transmuted her right arm into a blade as sharp and deadly as Barry's. She raised her arm just in time to catch the cleaver on her forearm. The impact jarred her arm all the way to her shoulder, making her cry out again.

Barry slashed at her again, but she rolled out of the way and managed to get her feet under her. She ran blindly into the darkness; she wasn't sure where an exit might be, but she didn't care where she went as long as it was far away from him.

She stumbled against something cold and hard; reaching out with her left hand to steady herself on it, she realized it was one of the frozen carcasses hanging from a hook. In the end, we're all just meat. Nina's twisted body lying on the ground, her blood sprayed out in all directions. It's like a beautiful work of art...

A cleaver sliced through the meat right above her hand; El jerked backwards, staring in horror as Barry shoved his way through the line of frozen carcasses. She couldn't see his face anymore, but she could see the glint of his cleaver as he raised it over his head.

With a yell, El struck out with her right arm, slashing him across the arm before his blow could fall. For a moment, Barry staggered back, staring at his forearm. Then he looked up, the light gleaming on his teeth as he grinned at her. "Oh, so you want to try your hand at my art too?"

With a crazed laugh, he charged at her again. El turned and ran as fast as she could away from him, shoving blindly between sides of beef and pork. She didn't know where she was, didn't know if she was running away from him anymore, couldn't tell which direction his hysterical giggling was coming from. Everything was dark, everything was cold, everything was—

El suddenly collided with something soft, solid, and warm. With a yell of horror, she pushed away from it, sure she had run right into Barry himself. But an arm wrapped around her, pinning her arms to her sides, and a loud snap cracked through the air.

A sudden rush of light and heat broke through the cold air, sending a gout of flame over El's head. She watched, frozen in shock, as the fire shot through the air and instantly ignited a whole row of carcasses. The meat burned like torches in a circle around Barry, who drew up short in surprise. He raised a blood-smeared hand to shield his face from the sudden light and heat, looking disoriented.

With a clatter of boots, several soldiers rushed forward to apprehend Barry. He gave up with nothing more than a shrug, letting them take his cleaver and tie his hands behind his back before marching him away. As they passed El, Barry grinned and gave her a wink, like they were both in on a colossal secret.

The smell of smoke and burning meat was choking her. El looked up and saw that the arm holding her in place belonged to Mustang, who was briskly passing out orders without seeming to realize that he still had his arm around her.

A sudden metallic clomping of feet drew El's attention. She turned her head to find Addie rushing towards her. "Sister!" she cried, dropping to her knees next to El, looking her up and down for injuries. When Mustang saw her, he finally let El go.

"Addie..." El murmured, staring at her little sister's familiar face. For the first time since she'd woken up in this freezer, her eyes filled with tears. "I...I thought I was going to die..."

"Sister..."

With a broken sob, El fell into Addie's arms.

El sat on the steps leading down from a side door of the butcher shop. Addie sat on her right, and Winston on her left. Mustang, Hughes, and Hawkeye stood nearby, directing the various soldiers who were securing the crime scene and searching for further evidence linking Barry to the gruesome killings. Barry himself had been led off earlier, hustled into the back of a military truck.

El tugged at the blanket someone had given her, pulling it tighter around her shoulders. Even though the air outside was warm, she couldn't seem to stop shivering. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the glint of Barry's cleaver, or the crazed look in his eyes.

The others had fallen silent a long time ago. Once they'd explained how Mustang had realized she'd gone after Barry on her own, and mobilized a team to back her up, they hadn't seemed to know what else to say. Winston was uncharacteristically subdued; he hadn't even mentioned El's automail except to promise to give her a tune-up the next morning, after she'd had a chance to rest. And Addie just looked at her, the expressionless visor impossible to read.

El ached all over. Barry hadn't cut her except for a few scrapes and scratches, but her left wrist throbbed after bearing her whole weight for hours on end, and her left shoulder twinged when she moved it in certain directions. Virtually all of her muscles were tired from the exertion and the cold. And though the initial pain had finally burned away, the nerves in her right shoulder port still twinged periodically, sending jitters of phantom pain lancing down her arm and making her fingers twitch. It had been treated too roughly in the past few hours.

And yet, every ache and pain reminded her that she was still alive.

"Alchemists are such arrogant people," El finally mumbled, staring down at her hands lying limply in her lap. She was aware of Addie and Winston looking at her, but she kept her gaze fixed downward. The evening sunlight was fading away, but it was still warm on her palms. "We think we're gods, while everyone else calls us soulless dogs. 'Alchemist, be thou for the people.' I thought that's what I was doing. I thought I could help people with my alchemy. Save people. With alchemy...I thought I was powerful enough to do it. To do it all myself."

The light glinted on her right hand, just as it had on Barry's knife. El shuddered. "But when I...when I thought he was gonna kill me...I wasn't powerful. I couldn't even think about anything except wanting to live. And that's...that's when I realized." She swallowed with difficulty as her vision blurred, and she dropped her head into her hands. "We're not gods. We're humans. Tiny, insignificant humans...who couldn't even save a little girl..."

She knew her sobs were echoing around the little courtyard, she knew everyone could hear her, but she didn't care. What did it matter anymore? She was just a civilian now, so it didn't matter what a bunch of soldiers thought about her. Addie's heavy leather gauntlet rested gently against her back, and though Winston didn't reach out to her, his warm presence on her other side was still a comfort.

A comfort she didn't deserve.

"Sorry," she choked out, trying to wipe her tears away with the edge of her blanket, but more kept rolling down her face. "I'm sorry, Addie... I...I can't even save you. I'm so ar-arrogant that I g-gave up my watch...and n-now...now I'll never get the S-Stone... Never get your..."

Maybe it would have been better if Barry had sliced her to ribbons after all. How had she managed to screw up everything again? After she'd promised, sworn on her life, to fix her mistakes and get her little sister back to normal? How could she have been so selfish and stupid?

"Sister..." Addie whispered, her huge hand rubbing up and down El's back. "Don't..."

She let Addie soothe her like she always did, just as she had every other time El had broken down since their mother had died. How was it that, even though she was the younger one, Addie always seemed to know the right things to do or say? She probably wouldn't have fallen to pieces like this, if their positions were switched.

Gradually, El's sobs subsided into miserable sniffs, which diminished in force with every soothing motion of Addie's hand on her back. When El heard the sound of approaching footsteps, she cracked her eyes open and stared glumly at the military-issue boots in front of her. She guessed who it was before he spoke, and her heart sank even further. He was probably here to yell at her for causing him trouble even after she'd left the military.

"Well, I hope this experience has taught you a lesson," Mustang said in his usual smug tones. "Discretion is the better part of valor, and all that. Perhaps next time you'll at least remember to tell me where you're going before you rush off to play the hero?"

It took a moment for the subtle meaning of his words to sink in. Startled, El raised her tear-stained face to look up at Mustang. The man wore his usual inscrutable smirk...but there was a certain warmth in his eyes that had never been there before. Or...maybe it had, and she simply hadn't noticed. "But..." she stammered, "but I'm not..."

"Oh, by the way," Mustang added, taking something from his pocket and tossing it to her, "you dropped this earlier. Don't leave your valuables lying around my office, all right? I don't have the time to waste chasing you down every day."

El caught the shimmering silver watch on instinct and stared down at it, open-mouthed. It glittered in the sunlight, heavy and real. She whipped her head back up to Mustang, not even sure what she wanted to say in response.

But Mustang had already turned away and started to leave. "I expect you in my office at 0900 hours tomorrow, Full Metal," he said, with a slight stress on her title. "I have a field mission that should interest you."

El sat, stunned, on the steps for a moment, but then she scrambled to her feet. "Wait!" she yelled, struggling to get out of her blanket without moving her right arm too much. She hurried after Mustang, who paused at the edge of the alleyway that led back to the main road, looking back at her with a raised eyebrow. "What about the Tucker assignment?" El asked, trying to suppress the snarl that twitched at the edge of her mouth when she said his name.

Mustang gave her one of his long, measured looks that El usually found so annoying. Right now, she was too interested in what he would say to care. "No," he finally said. "I think that is in hand for the time being. After today...I think your skills will be put to much better use elsewhere."

She knew he was probably talking about her talent with alchemy and her ability to think on her feet, even when faced with a bloodthirsty psychopath. She tried to tell herself that he had an ulterior motive, that she was just a pawn on his chessboard, moving according to his whims. But somehow...maybe, just maybe...he also cared about what was best for her.