A/n: I believe that this is probably the longest stand-alone one shot I have ever written. And it killed my brain about halfway through, so if the quality falls away, I apologise most sincerely.

Anyways: THERE ARE SPOILERS FOR THE END OF THE SERIES IN THIS FIC! IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THE END OF FMA AND DO NOT WANT IT SPOILED DO NOT READ THIS!

And again: THERE ARE SPOILERS FOR THE END OF THE SERIES IN THIS FIC! IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THE END OF FMA AND DO NOT WANT IT SPOILED DO NOT READ THIS!

Now, if you read that, and you still read anyway, it's your own fault because I have now warned you 3 times. (Including in the summary.)

Some characters speak only in modified lines of Evanescence's "Missing". I claim no ownership over that song; I merely abused it for my own purposes.

And I'll admit to Roy being a little OOC when he talks to Al. I'm just warning you now and I'm sorry.

Read on!

It was the day after a summer thunderstorm and that certain 'just-right' humidity hung about in the air. It wasn't sticky or any semblance of hot, but the moisture carried that crisp warmth through open windows and allowed it to dance over the brows of the people on the small locomotive headed south out into the countryside.

However the balmy breezes, high clouds and sparkling summer sunshine could not distract Edward Elric from his most recent sullen mood. Currently reclined back against the hard red seats of the small two-person carriage, he shuddered at both a sense of familiarity and of strangeness at the same time. The worst of which was the fact that instead of a metal suit of armour seated across from him, a bearded blond man was there. Edward forced himself to look up at the metal grating of the luggage rack, biting his lip to prevent himself from screaming frustration.

The parallels between home and beyond the Gate were shocking and almost as out of place as the differences. For instance, back home he would never have dreamed of sitting in a cramped room, just slouched over the chair and with his feet up on the table when the person across from him was not his brother (He almost expected the whine, "Big brother, put your feet down.") Yet here he was, pointedly not looking at the bearded, spectacled man from whom he had inherited his pale colouring and golden features.

And due to forced contact he and the man (Whom he still refused to call 'father' unless in a completely mocking sense of the word) had grown closer. They were still not at the level of true father-son interaction but the time spent together had forced Edward past his initial dislike, into a situation where he could easily fight back his desires to punch the long-faced man until he bled. Oh, and really, really felt the pain Edward had.

Well, at least he could resist the urge to do so with his right hand. Rome wasn't built in a day.

The countryside the train was passing through was typical Merry-Olde-England green with new life, sheep glowing like white beacons and the only occasional smattering of black spotted cows to disrupt the flow. Such a welcome change from the grey, sooty streets of Munich. And from the war effort taking place. Stupid England. Edward thought snidely, Things are so much easier with alchemy. But then he remembered that this realm couldn't use alchemy, and all the souls that died here died because people from his realm could (Which was the reason for the wars over here - But what about the ones back home?) And maybe it was all a just big jumbled mess anyway.

Sometimes Edward was afraid that he thought too much. He scowled deeply, sinking further and further into that sour mood that plagued him.

"Don't worry Edward, The research is going well. Soon we should be able to obtain a transmutation response." Meaningless words spoken in a hopeful tone. That's all they were and Edward didn't bother to fool himself otherwise. The man had been promising 'soon' since the start. And so far, 'soon' have been two years, three months, one week, four days and 17 hours. Somehow Edward didn't think that things would change anytime 'soon.'

"Please, Al, Please forgive me, but I won't be home again." He muttered to himself, watching the countryside roar by just beyond the window.

It seemed to always rain in Amestris, it was just one of the accepted norms these days. The heavens always seemed to cry in long waves and however cliché that image appeared, it was true. The golden light of the sun was always blocked in some form or another, perpetual darkness taking its place in the accepted norm of life.

Clouds are beautiful in a sad sense, the variety of colour from ominous purple-black promising heavy snow to the pale grey of spring rains. And today the rains poured down surrounding the small town of Rizenbul in night time rain that had no right to be that warm. The inns down in the city centre bustled and roared with trade as tourists who wanted to see the birthplace of the famous Fullmetal Alchemist (Who's life was shrouded in as much mystery as his strange disappearance) milled about the fireplaces, mugs of hot cocoa in their hands, children just beginning to nod off in their arms. And, in a small house just on the verge of farmland, (down the main road and the first turn on the left) A thirteen year old boy peered out of the misted windows and ran his fingers down the beads of water chasing one another over the glass and fighting a war with gravity at the same time.

His eyes were a bronzed grey, dulled with eclipsing sadness but still a spark of hope shone through. He was pale, and the light from a small globe bounced off him harshly pushing into hard relief the sharpening angles of his features.

A gentle cry of his name carried up the stairs awakens him to the world around him and he looks about strangely, confused and disoriented.

"There you are!" A tanned face peeked around the doorway and he smiled just for the girl who followed. She was slender, with purple eyes and long brown hair except for her fringe which was a shocking pink. "Come, Alphonse, it's time for dinner." She smiled and he attempted to grin back but found himself lacking the spirit required.

A brief flare of uncharacteristic anger surged through him. How can she be as happy as that? How can she pretend like nothing has happened? He turned away, unable to face those hopeful eyes and that heartfelt smile. She should be crying inside. She should be feeling some sadness at least.

"We have a guest tonight, Alphonse." She commented sadly as she turned to leave the room. He stood and followed her, whispering to himself.

"Maybe someday I'll wake up, big brother, and then barely conscious I'll say to no one: Isn't something missing?"

"Isn't something missing?" He turned to his father, questions in his eyes that he didn't dare voice about the methods the man chose to use. And he reflected that it wasn't fair that smiles could be hidden behind beards. He scowled up at those too-soft features and behind those spectacles he saw the eyes that stared back at him from out of the mirror every morning. Many people in this world commented upon the likeness between father and son. Just as many had walked away with injuries of varying degrees depending upon what mood Edward was in. More often than not, Edward would then receive a warning about how he should control his temper.

"To unlock the gate from this side, Edward?" The man assumed that Edward had been referring to his earlier comment. Edward chose to let him believe that. He chose to let the man overlook the pain in his eyes, and the tearing of his soul. The man across from him focused upon his son in the train window, and the eyes of their reflections met. "Most likely, there is. But once we pinpoint it, there will be no stopping us."

The boy-no-longer scowled. He was unsure if the ability to access alchemy was a good thing or not. It would mean more wars, more death, more destruction. If the gate could open from both sides, what would that mean for the worlds? Would destruction sweep the surfaces eradicating life? Or would a new energy source be discovered, one that wasn't something as precious as a human soul.

He muttered under his breath as his father chuckled, assuming his features had given his thoughts away. There was warmth and reassurance in that voice, and Edward secretly resented it. Secretly thought that it he didn't need it. "Edward," the man smiled his tone warm and sure of itself, "You should really pay more attention to the world around you. Particularly America, and particularly in the realms of science."

Edward sighed, not bothering to dignify that with an answer as he slid deeper into the train seat. And why should Edward care? Nothing mattered to him on this side of the gate, only one thing on the other. Pointless. So very, very pointless.

"I'll get you back to him." His father commented suddenly, dark honeyed eyes wary as he looked at the deep sadness gripping his son's frame. The boy hadn't even been sarcastic on the train trip. A sure sign that he was feeling the effects of separation today more than ever.

"He won't cry for my absence I know. He forgot me long ago." And the man stared and Ed squirmed under that uncomfortable glare.

There was a gloomy silence as Alphonse descended the stairs, a dark mood reflected by dreary skies. The woman with the dual toned hair took a seat at the far end of the table leaving the empty seat closest to them for Al. He briefly recognised the signs of her seeing his weariness and caught a curse in his throat. He did not need the protection of these people. Her face was carefully blank as she held his gaze, and finally unable to bear those expressionless features he turned his head away something inside him feeling guilty for his thoughts.

It was then he noticed the other, seated at the head of the table, holding his gloves curtly in one hand. The raven smirked slightly, his black eyes glancing his way with a knowing tint, and his black hair framing his face. Perfectly manicured fingers rested over the white material of the gloves, and pale skin glowed. There was something in the man however, some sense of weariness of limbs being just a tad too heavy to hold up. And Al pretended he didn't notice it, or the grateful look he received for doing so. And sometimes, he thought, illusions could be better than reality for the briefest of moments.

So many unspoken questions hung in the air. Questions Al was too polite to ask or the man too secretive to answer. He wasn't sure which, and knew he wouldn't know if he tried to think it out.

There it was though, in the man's eyes, as the others looked upon the silent and raging war. The answer to the one question burning above their heads.

I came, the man's eyes said, to enquire as to your progress with your brother's resurrection. And Al flinched and the man looked away as the unspoken taboo was broken with those soulless black eyes.

"Sir?" A blonde girl enquired politely, trying in vain to strike up a conversation. And he could see the pain of conflicting emotions within her as well. And she was not the only one struggling around the table with that bubble of something which curled through their bellies, gave their stomachs jitters and lodged firmly in their throats. "Why are you here?"

And the smirk changed briefly to something sad and pathetic and it was quickly hidden. Chased away by that fierce monster-mask that the man carried with him, that shell of emotions that he couldn't truly bring himself to discard. His protection.

And Al realised. Al realised what the man planned to do and was insanely nonplussed. "Tell me sir," He asked, and them man's attention immediately was squarely focused his way, and those eyes were boring into his with such intense focus that he nearly backed down. Nearly. "Is he that unimportant? Is he so insignificant?"

The man visibly recoiled as if slapped. He forced his eyes away as if the damage he had done with such a simple statement could tear the fragile bond they shared apart. But surprisingly, a soft, almost gentle male voice caused him to look up once more into those focused and determined coal eyes. "Isn't something missing?" The man asked, and then with a touch of desperation, "Isn't someone missing us?"

And the table fell into a hushed, disturbing quiet as each member contemplated the words the man had spoken.

His eyes said it. His body position said it, the whole rigidness of his features said it and yet his father ignored it. Do not start on that Einstein fool again.

"Have you read his theories even, Edward?" and the younger rolled his eyes, at the seeming incompetence of the man. When one could not read body language after a full 400 years of existence it was a bit worrying. Not only a bit worrying, stupid. He shook his head, feeling his lips force shut into a thin line. "That is exactly why I believe in him." The man smiled slightly at Edward's obvious scepticism. "People failed to believe in all the other scientific names of this realm. Galileo, Newton, Da Vinci. Shall I go on?"

Edward gritted his teeth and refused to shake his head. It was simple really, yet his father couldn't see it in that illusionary world of fairytales he enjoyed. Edward could. No doubt, Einstein was a genius, but Edward believed there was something fishy about a man who believed light could bend no matter how far away from the Earth it was. Edward had tried to understand the man when he first read the theory but there was something confusing about it, something much too... Roy MUSTANG about it as if all the man wanted was to get under Edward's skin and stay there. And heaven be damned if Edward was going to let something that sounded like Mustang convince him of its integrity.

"It is not as erroneous as you might think, Edward." The man said, ignoring Edwards complete lack of positive response and blathering on. Edward fought the bile that rose in his throat. Fought the urge to leap off the chair, demand that the man shut up because he simply didn't know anything. "I'm positive that Einstein holds the missing key, something that can bypass the use of this world, or our world's souls in the alchemical reaction."

Edward squared his chin. His eyes asked 'And what if it fails? What of us then?' And the man sighed. "If it fails Edward, we'll die, but it would be better than living here, wouldn't you agree?"

"Even though I'd be sacrificed. You won't try for me, not now" Edward replied, thinking it over briefly.

"Enough!" The blonde snapped, standing up suddenly, her hands coming down upon the wooden tabletop with a 'bang'. Her blue eyes, usually warm, were as cold as ice as she looked at both boy and man as if reprimanding them for having such morose thoughts. Alphonse should have felt sorry, that look usually made him that way inclined, but the support of another who believed Edward was still alive on the table did more to push his resolve. The woman, upon realising the lack of response she was receiving from the 13 year old turned to the man instead. "You! State your purpose, or leave."

The man chose to smirk at her and say nothing and Alphonse saw the surprise in his eyes at the frontal demand. He paused for a moment, seemingly to consider the best track in which to continue, but her eyes warned him against it, and before the words had escaped him, she demanded, "And don't you dare say 'To help Alphonse. He doesn't need encouragement, and what he's planning is a bad idea anyway!" She growled. She shot Alphonse a brief apologetic look and he dismissed it and the hurt he felt.

She turned towards the tanned one for support and the girl put a reassuring hand on her arm. The blonde sat with weary eyes. Al wished he could be anywhere else but there in that moment. Away from the stares of the others, away from everything. "Don't you think you've meddled enough?" He looked up, surprised, into brown eyes staring straight at him, and he backed off guiltily.

"R..." He began, but he was cut to the chase by another woman, this time old and wrinkled and fierce. She glared and waved a long pipe in the man's direction.

"There are two things I would like to know from you, Roy Mustang. The first is how, the second, why. And I am of the firm belief that the first is hard to explain, easy to answer. But what of the second?" And she smiled at him, as his eyes darkened into black pools with no end to their depth. "Could the second be the reverse? Something no thirteen year old would understand?"

Al stared at her, impressed. Mustang nodded, closing his eyes briefly and smirking only slightly at the woman's intuition.

However, the blonde woman scowled eyes turning harder than steel. "But it was you who sent another 13 year old to the military!" She hissed with cold fury. "You convinced them of the merits of that fools dream the first time!" And Alphonse shook his head. It wasn't Mustang who had convinced them, it was Ed's desire to best their father. Ed's need to travel, both their guilt which had led them on the chase in the first place. Not Mustang at all.

Al fought the helplessness quickly overtaking him. He tried to hide from the thoughts plaguing him of his own guilt as he turned to Roy who turned away. And then the blonde sighed as she petted his hand sympathetically. "You don't have to Al. Come on. This is stupid."

It was like a physical blow to Al. "Though I'd die to know you all loved me," he hissed, standing up angrily, "I'm all alone." And spinning on his heel ran out into the rain.

"Isn't someone missing you, your Excellency?" Roy jumped at the cold scorn that the voice had carried. The vehement tone something quite unbecoming of the boy. Dinner had ended in dismal silence with all parties seemingly afraid to stand and bring the boy back inside. But now Roy stood upon the porch, and staring out into the gloom he smiled.

He shook his head gently. He had covered those bases before he arrived in the now not-so-sleepy little town. The boy grinned wryly. And he felt relief flood through him. One face in the town didn't hate him at least. One thought he wasn't a corruption or at least not an unwelcome one. The air was cool and brisk and fog was rolling in over the hills creating a low visibility. If Roy looked hard enough he could see dimply glowing lights in the distance and if he looked close enough those same lights reflecting in the eyes of the boy beside him. The eyes proclaimed a gentle message that Roy was sure only he could see.

We're here, now, and we're missing someone despite what the others say. Roy secretly agreed with them. They did need their someone here for the sake of two families. The strange combination of females and Al, and those at the military base and Roy both needed the same person to be truly complete.

It was funny how it had taken Roy so long to realise just what used to fill the empty place in his soul. Al looked as if he had known it all along.

He began to proceed over to the porch stairs but a gentle hand upon his arm stopped him. He turned back to see those mournful eyes staring back at him. Eyes full of hope and sadness at the same time. He should have kept on walking. Should have turned and run and never looked back but he couldn't. Not when those eyes held him in such good faith so. Not when that forgiving look was directed his way with the promise to help him reach his goals if Roy helped him in return.

So he stayed, turning to face the golden haired boy. Preparing to answer all the boy's questions. "Tell me Alphonse," He whispered, looking briefly out into the rain and then back once more. "Is he missing me?"

And the look that Alphonse sent him was so startled and surprised that for a moment he doubted his question, but it warmed into affirmation and he smiled.

And Al turned to the house with a wry smile. "Please, everyone. Please forgive me. There's a chance I won't be home again." The two departed the residence.

"He's come up with a theory." Edward snorted. "It makes sense...?" His ears perked, but his lips remained firmly sealed. He chose instead to pull the curtains closed upon a setting sun glaring into the compartment and at just the right angle to be an annoyance. "It could possibly overcome the equivalent trade problem." And that attracted Edwards' full attention.

I thought he didn't believe in equivalent trade? He pondered briefly, with an almost sardonic air that even Roy would probably have been proud of. And that thought made him sit up with a jolt. He hadn't really just compared himself to the colonel, had he? Something was seriously wrong with his head.

"And before you start on me again, son, I do not believe in equivalent trade. No." Edward felt his attention be mercilessly dragged back to 'Old Beardface' (Edward hadn't actually thought of that nickname, a child on another train had. Edward had promptly decided he liked the boy and spent the rest of the trip entertaining him.) The man smiled as Ed did, and continued to speak. Edward was only half listening, caught up in memories of the boy and how they had ganged up on the man. (The day had ended rather spectacularly with them dumping a bucket of water over the man's head. The boy had been yelled at by his mother for disturbing the peace, Edward was yelled at by the same woman for being a bad influence and his father had merely smiled and told him to not be so wasteful in future.) "And Einstein has proven that it does not exist with his formula."

Edward snorted, inwardly reflecting that about five seconds ago, it had been a theory. He leaned back into the leather seat, prepared to watch how his father handled the inconsistency. The man hod no idea how to instil confidence.

But he was smiling still, the same half-amused, half-apologetic, all pathetic smile that he always wore around Edward. Edward could never tell if the man simply wore it around him or wore it always, but it gave him a dopey look that whispered 'I'm sorry' as much as it screamed 'all I want is to help.' Strangely, it was the second meaning to the look that would always catch Edward off guard. Why would the man want to help his prodigals' son, when Edward still didn't want to come back to his side? It infuriated him beyond the edge of reason. Could the man have forgotten to hold a grudge? Was he even able to?

"But this formula, Edward, this theory, if it succeeds, I can probably get you back there. Back to your brother." Edward inwardly reflected that he would have been a lot more convinced if his father had used 'when' instead of 'if', but then again, to be held in false hope is to be held in no hope at all.

"You know what he does to himself? Shuddering deeply and crying out without making a noise?"

The man smiled. "I had always hoped that your brother would be gentle. If only to counteract your fierceness." And the smile never faded, even as the man became suddenly very interested with the drapes.

"Something's missing between you and me." Edward replied. "You won't miss me if I go back, will you?"

His father focused upon the blinds even harder, and Edward found himself wondering how they could be so interesting. "No." The man whispered, "That's not it."

They stood in the rain, on the top of a grassy slope, looking down over rolling hills and valleys. The cemetery was to their left, far enough away to make the scene not dismally spooky, close enough to be a reminder of what they were truly playing with. But wasn't it worth the effort to bring back the reckless brother, the loud brother. The brother who left a mark on all of the people he met (Whether physically or metaphorically always seemed to depend upon his mood at the time.)

The discussion they had held while slowly walking towards the plot of land had been an eye opening experience for Roy, who had not truly understood how bright Alphonse really was. In fact, Roy wouldn't put it past saying that the boy was smarter than his older brother. Alphonse had a keen sense for reading into things and seeing symbols and hidden meanings that not even Roy contained. Secretly, he was glad the boy didn't use it to his advantage, didn't see to use it even. Such innocence.

And he felt almost, as the boy looked at him, that he had to smirk. To keep that superiority and that distance so he could not taint that pure surface. He had told the boy his plan, had to tell the boy his plan, for the simple reason the world needed more people like Fullmetal and his brother. And less like him.

And so, he had told Alphonse. Told him how fire was the embodiment of pure light and heat energy and about how it destroyed mass and converted it to fuel itself. And how there was the possibility that with the right array this process itself could be what was utilised to create mass out of nothing but energy. If it worked in reverse, he had rationalised, maybe it was possible to create mass out of raw energy.

Alphonse had smiled sadly at him. "You'd risk being sacrificed?" And Roy had started. His awareness of the younger brother's intelligence had been fully awakened in that moment.

"Maybe. But you won't cry for me. Not now not ever. That's an order." And Alphonse had smiled sweetly, reminded him (quite politely) that he wasn't military and didn't have to accept that order and continued walking.

Roy had stared after his retreating back for a moment, caught the duality of what he said and genuinely smiled. No, Alphonse was not military, and therefore would most likely not follow his orders.

But then, he thought, not even those in the military truly had to follow his orders. The smile grew fond as he thought of a certain insubordinate subordinate and how that particular boy would have never done anything if ordered. Oh yes. Fullmetal had always had to be tricked, coddled and bribed into following him.

His goal had always been a father-figure to both boys. And that instilled a certain fierce protectiveness that came with a paternal love that had always surprised him.

"And though I'd die to know they returned that love, I'm probably all alone still."

Alphonse shot him a strange look. And another quickly followed it. One that read 'you're not alone. And you never will be.' He fought to keep the sudden rush of gratitude from showing on his features. "Something's missing, sir."

"D'you think he's missing me?" Edward asked, as the train pulled slowly into the station. Both stood, pulling their individual suit cases down from the overhead racks, Edward with great difficulty due to his small stature. (his father didn't help, merely because Edward threw a violent temper tantrum the first time he had and it has always been said that the one of light learnt from his mistakes.)

A single shudder ran through the train as it pulled into the station.

"E equals MC squared." Edward blinked and shot his father a strange look. The man shrugged. "It's Einstein's newest theory." This of course, caused Edward to roll his eyes. He didn't particularly care, but he knew his father would elate when he felt it was time to.

They disembarked in silence accompanied only by the whistle of the train and the cacophony of noise that was a train station.

It was only walking away from the station that the man picked up where he left off, filling his son in on the meanings of the equation. "What it means, Edward, is that mass and energy can be converted."

Edward felt his eyes rise. Stroke up another incomprehensible and foolhardy idea for Einstein. His father must have seen the look because he laughed richly, a strange sound to come from the man. "Basically, the formula states that the energy produced in a reaction is equal to the atomic mass of the substance multiplied by the speed of light squared." Edward couldn't stop the low whistle that escaped him. That was an awfully big number.

And in an instant, he saw where his father was coming from. If mass could be broken down into energy and then this energy utilised for the alchemical reaction, no deaths were required. The energy for the alchemical reaction could come from the reaction itself and become... "Self sustaining." Beardface concluded his mental monologue with those words. "The energy would come from the reaction process itself. The gate could be opened freely from either side."

And most importantly, Edward could go home.

Alchemy without alchemy. So simple. So brilliant. Something that even Edward wouldn't have thought of in a million years. The first principle, understanding, at work and unhindered. But if it didn't work...

"And if I'll bleed, I'll bleed." He looked over to his father, as Hoenheim of light smiled sadly and spoke. "Knowing you don't truly care. Edward."

He was overcome with a strange impulse to hug the other man fiercely.

He didn't.

Two pairs on two different sides of the gate moved in unison. Chalk clicked on the surface of a dark room down in the depths of the station, while out in the open air, in the cold after rainfall, it was drawn with sticks in the muddy ground.

Two heads bent over each array adding seals and symbols and in one centre there was placed a small dish of Uranium Nitrate and in the other, nothing at all. And two final symbols were placed, on one side to summon matter, on the other, to will it away.

And in the younger pairs of eyes there were questions which couldn't be answered. Such as 'are you truly sure about this?' 'Can this work?' "Will this work?' and they rolled about in the uneasy roar of silence answered only by reassuring looks that still held fear within their depths. They all settled at four different points of the arrays and in them all was a fierce determination that this would work.

It was too late to turn back now, and with trepidation four pairs of hands clapped together and fell. Four different alchemical colours spilled over both transmutation circles.

Roy was blood red
Ed, light blue
Alphonse, a slightly darker turquoise
And Hoenheim, Pure white.

"AL!" Ed yelled, his eyes lighting up in the response. "No more sleeping just to dream of you!"

"Big brother?" Alphonse cried; his eyes alight with hope and alchemical flares. "I know you're there Big brother!"

"Isn't something missing?" Hoenheim questioned quietly, watching the reaction thoughtfully.

"Fullmetal, you better have been missing me too." Mustang almost whined, raising his fingers to snap and bring the spark of fire into the reaction.

And slowly, oh so very slowly the Gate began to open.

All voices cheered in jubilation. It was working! And Hoenheim turned to Edward, a strange look in his eyes. It was something new and confusing, loving and paternal and Edward hadn't seen it before. "Go." The man whispered, his eyes dimming.

Edward frowned, staying where he was.

"Damn it Edward! Go!" Hoenheim snapped, as the Gate opened to its fullest.

His tone was almost frightening to Edward, the man suddenly sounding every one of his 400 years of age. It was what sparked Edward into life. Caused him to run at the Gate and not look back. It caused him not to flinch as slimy black hands gripped his arms and yanked painfully and he cast only one more glance over his shoulder at the very last minute, and saw those lips mutter, "Isn't something..."

The world dissolved.

A/n: Cookies and Kudos to anyone who picked up on the symbolic changes in Hoenheim's dialogue.

And yes. It does end there. There will be no more.

Feed a hungry authoress-Dodges bricks for being cruel-