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Of Danger, Diplomats, and Dress Blues

Chapter 4

Notes:

This is either going to be very good news or very bad news, depending on how you’re liking the fic. So, when I was getting ready to post I realized that we only have one chapter left, and there is a lot that still needs to happen. Upon looking at my document with the draft, I realized that I was missing the back half of this fic! I don’t know where it went or what happened, but several chapters are missing! Curse the folly of overtrusting modern technology! So I’m going to have to rewrite what I already wrote. I still plan on updating once a week, however, I make no promises now that I have to rewrite and re-edit the fic. I estimate that it’ll only be another three or so chapters that are missing but we will see. Anyways, now back to your regularly scheduled torture.

Trigger warnings: Torture, blood, drowning, blood, broken bones, gore, hyperventilating, panic attacks.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

They were speaking in Cretan again as they dragged him upright and put him back in that damned chair.

Ed tensed, waiting for the cloth and the water. There were windows along the top of the warehouse wall. Each time Ed looked out them, his heart sank. He had watched as the windows steadily grew brighter with the sun. And then steadily grew darker with the night. Now, they were bright again.

The sun had come up again.

The sun had come up again and he was still here.

Hallucination Mustang said he was looking for him. He said he wouldn’t let him die. Ed believed that. He needed to believe that. His saying no was the only thing keeping him alive right now. But if Mustang and Al weren’t coming for him, if they weren’t even looking for him, then why was he dragging this out?

Fullmetal, do not do the transmutation! You swore to me!

“I’m so tired.” He panted, slumping down in the chair. He was shaking violently, cold from the lack of clothing and the steady drip, drip, drip of water from his hair. He was also afraid. The waterboarding was worse than he thought possible.

Do not do the transmutation!

“It’ll be so quick.” He coughed; more blood dribbled from his lips and slipped down his chin. “Just hand on and done.”

I said I wasn’t going to cover for you again.

“I can see mom again.”

Sweaty Man was back. He gripped Ed’s hair and yanked his head back, pulling out several strands. Ed whined and let his head be snapped back.

“Do the transmutation.” He demanded.

Ed blinked and lolled his head to the side to face him. Sweaty Man was angry and frustrated. They probably didn’t expect him to be so stubborn about this. They probably thought he’d break the first fingernail they ripped from his hand. He’d break after the first beating. He’d break after the first disconnection and reconnection of his port. He’d break after the first waterboarding session.

He never did. He just kept saying no.

No. No. No. No. No.

Just keep saying no.

Except, he could say yes. He could say yes and this would all end. It’d all be over.

What about Al? Hallucination Mustang asked. You’ll die and he’ll be stuck in that body forever. Are you so weak and selfish that you’d be happy letting your little brother suffer for the rest of his life because you wanted to see your mother again? Do you care so little about him that his wellbeing means less than your comfort?

“No.” He directed that towards Hallucination Mustang.

Al’s wellbeing meant more to him than anything in the world. He’d give up his other arm, his leg, his voice, his heart, his mind, his soul. He’d give up everything to give Al his body back. If he was willing to do the transmutation, then that spat in the face of all the words he said. If it took being tortured by crazy Cretans for days to get closer to finding a philosopher’s stone and getting Al his body back, then that’s what he would do. It would be pathetic to talk such a big game only to give up now.

Sweaty Man was angry but didn’t look surprised. He took a step back and raised a gun.

Ed followed it with unfocused eyes.

Holy shit.

They were going to shoot him.

After all this work, they were going to shoot him now.

His breathing picked up. He wanted to look away. He tried to look away. His eyes wouldn’t let him. Even as Sweaty Man pressed the gun to his temple.

He was going to die.

He was going to die.

He was going to die here alone and in pain. They were going to kill him.

Sweaty Man pulled the trigger. There was a loud bang and searing pain on his temple. It felt like he was getting burned by something.

He pitched forward with a cry, but someone was there to shove him back into the chair.

Wait.

What the fuck?

He was alive?

What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck?

He had just been shot in the head. He should be dead. He felt the gun. He heard it. His ears were ringing.

He should be…

His chest felt like there was a car sitting on it.

He couldn’t…

He couldn’t breathe.

His head… everything was spinning.

Oh God, he should be dead. There was a gun to his head. He should be dead. Why wasn’t he dead? What the fuck? He couldn’t breathe.

Oh, God, he couldn’t breathe. He had been shot but he wasn’t dead. There was no bullet in his head. What the fuck?

The hands shoved him back in the chair, snapping his head back once more. He was still panicking, still trying to get some air into his lungs but the oxygen was being expelled as soon as it went in. He was dying. Oh, God, he was dying.

Someone help him!

Anyone!

Please!

Someone come and help!

The man put the gun to his head again.

No. No please, not again.

He pulled the trigger.

Another loud bang ringing in his ears. Another burning sensation across his temple.

Why wasn’t he dead?

How was he not dead?

Again. He put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger. It was so loud. And the echo, it never seemed to stop. Was he still hearing the sound of the first shot ringing in his ears? Or was he now on the third? Why was he still alive? Why couldn’t he breathe?

Again. The gun went off. The burn and pain exploded across his forehead, his face, his temple, his body. Why wasn’t he dead?

Again. The gun went off. The bang resounded in his ears, splitting his head open figuratively because it seemed like no matter how close the gun was to his head, it would never split it open literally.

Again. Please make it stop. Please someone make all of this stop.

The man lowered the gun. “I am out of blanks. Do transmutation for us.”

Blanks? The gun had been filled with blanks? That was why…

Sweaty Man slapped him. Hard. His lip split open again.

“Tell me about the transmutation. I am getting tired of your games.”

You said you’d give up everything for your brother, Fullmetal. Now is the time to prove it. Prove that you’re willing to do anything to get his body back.

“N-“ His tongue didn’t want to work. His mouth didn’t want to move. He was still panicking, though thankfully the attack seemed to be waning. He could take deeper breaths now.

“N-“ Everything hurt. His ears were still ringing. His forehead and temple were still burning.

“I’m waiting for an answer.” Another slap, snapping his head to the other side.

He took a deep breath. He had to stay strong. He had to keep up with this. He was willing to do anything to get Al’s body back. Including going through all of this.

“No. I’m not going… I’m won’t… I’m not doing it.” He finally managed to bite out.

The chair was tipped over and he was shoved onto the ground. He instinctively tried to throw out a hand to catch himself. That was a mistake. Pain exploded up through it, sending him back into a panic as it overwhelmed all of his senses. He had forgotten. He was in so much pain that he had forgotten what all of his injuries were.

He was flipped over onto his back. The second man stuck the leg back in the port.

“No, please don’t. Please. Please stop.” He’d rather they do anything but this.

Sweaty Man turned on the leg.

Ed screamed.

“I am impressed. I hear reconnecting automail is very painful. You seem to be withstanding it well.” He turned off the lever.

Ed only had a second to compose himself before the leg was turned back on. He shrieked and thrashed against the ground.

Why hadn’t anyone come to help him? Why was he still there? Was it true that no one noticed that he was gone? Or did they notice and just not care? Did they finally see a chance to get rid of him and latch onto it? Was he such a burden on everyone that they didn’t even care how much pain he was in?

He disconnected the leg and tossed it aside. Only twice? That was unusual. Ed coughed, more blood filling his mouth.

“You are tougher to break than most men.” Sweaty Man motioned for the other soldiers in the room. They got to their feet and started setting something up.

“It is a shame you are with the enemy. We could use more soldiers like you.”

A soldier bent dragged him to another part of the room. They passed by the circle as they did so, the bright red paint still as vibrant and damning as ever.

“What are you doing?” he asked, flailing as best as he could, which wasn’t that great and more like pathetic twitching.

He was dropped on the ground, his right leg screaming in pain as they started tying him up with ropes. The rope bit into his leg, burning it as it snaked up his body. They bound his thighs together, flipping and twisting him without care to get to a new part. The rope wound up his torso, crushing his broken ribs and tearing open the scabs on his back. Blood started to drip out once more, staining the concrete an ugly, brownish-red. His broken, dislocated shoulder was wrenched behind his back.

He screamed at that one. It hurt. It’d hurt less if they’d just pop the shoulder back in place, but no. They decided it was better to keep it dislocated. Why were they tying him up? It wasn’t like he could move. And he hadn’t tried to attack them in hours.

Finally, they finished up with the rope. Ed didn’t let himself feel relieved. There was still one man at his foot, fiddling with the bindings. He could feel the broken ankle get jerked around. Finally, the man stopped whatever he was doing.

Except, it didn’t get better. It got worse.

He screamed as the rope yanked his broken ankle and his body dragged across the floor, his leg steadily rising until he was hanging completely upside down.

There was more talking in Cretan. There was a barrel that looked to be filled with water that was placed beneath him. Blood dripped from his wounds and down his body, into his eyes. Everything hurt.

“It’ll be quick,” he mumbled.

Do not give up, Fullmetal.

“I’m so tired.”

I won’t cover for you again.

“It hurts.”

You’ll leave Al all alone. What kind of big brother does that?

“I want it to stop hurting.”

You only get one chance, and you’ve already used yours up.

Someone let go of the rope. For a brief second, he felt like he was floating. Then the icy water tore a scream from his lips. Water went up his nose and in his mouth. He took an instinctual gasp for air, water filling his lungs and causing spots in his vision.

Never before had the feeling of someone yanking on his broken leg come with such a feeling of relief. He was lifted out of the water, coughing sputtering, and removing all the water he had inhaled in his first dunk. It wasn’t enough time, though. Mid-cough he was dropped back into the bucket. This time, the icy water didn’t shock him as much. But it still made his heart skip a beat and made him gasp.

He was yanked from the bucket. Coughed, then dropped back in.

They repeated this ten, fifteen, twenty times. He lost count. They didn’t rest. They didn’t stop.

The water had turned a murky brown as the blood and vomit washed off his body. It was probably the only good thing that came from being dropped into the barrel so much. At least he was getting cleaned off. And it had steadily risen in temperature. Now it was no ice bath.

He was pulled back up, coughing, sputtering, choking as the bloody water dripped and splashed from his body. The floor around the barrel was flooded and he could see the water level had decreased significantly.

“Do the transmutation for us,” Sweaty Man said.

He finished coughing. “No.” He couldn’t say no for much longer. The pressure from the blood steadily gathering in his head made him want to explode. His broken ankle was the only thing supporting all of his body weight and he felt like it might tear clean off if they left him there for much longer.

Sweaty Man started shouting. He was lowered back to the ground. He heard the distant crackle of a radio coming to life as more Cretan sounded in the air. The door opened and closed. The leg was put back in the port and reconnected. He couldn’t even manage a scream this time, eyes rolling back in his head.

Disconnect.

“Do the transmutation,” Sweaty Man snarled.

He didn’t even bother saying no this time. His mouth finally decided to stop working. Maybe he had bitten through his tongue in pain. The blood had to be coming from somewhere. Or maybe he broke his jaw somewhere along the way. He couldn’t remember breaking his jaw, but he wouldn’t put it past these guys.

Reconnect.

Nothing. Not even a sound.

It still hurt.

Holy fuck did it still hurt. He just couldn’t bring himself to so much as whimper.

Disconnect.

Sweaty Man slapped him. “Do the transmutation!”

He let himself stare blankly at the circle. Why was he saying no again? Why wasn’t he just getting it over with?

He had survived human transmutation before. Surely he could do it again. Maybe… maybe Mustang and Al wouldn’t have to find out about it. He could figure out another reason why he was missing another limb.

Sweaty Man let out a roar and started beating him with something. It felt like a rubber hose. Over and over and over again. He hit his unprotected body. His stomach. His chest. His leg. His face. Over and over and over again.

It fucking hurt, but he couldn’t bring himself to try and protect his body. What was the point? He was going to die here and there was nothing he could do about it. Trying to shield himself would just delay the inevitable.

Sweaty Man threw down the rubber hose and lunged at him. He wrapped his hands around his neck and squeezed. This got a reaction from Ed as his arm jerked to try and claw Sweaty Man off of him. He couldn’t breathe. He needed to breathe.

The arm wouldn’t move.

Nothing would move.

He wanted to move.

His last sight before blacking out was of Sweaty Man’s bulging, bloodshot eyes.

*****

Ed blinked his eyes open, squinting into the darkness. His metal arm and leg were back on his body. He lifted his right hand and rotated his wrist. He felt relieved to hear the familiar sounds of machinery humming softly. He pushed himself up and looked around.

It was dark out. Nighttime? Had to be. He was still in the goddamn warehouse though. The transmutation circle seemed to glow bright red in the darkness, pulsing slightly.

He licked his lips and slid back against the wall. His body hurt… less than it should. He should be in excruciated pain. He shouldn’t be able to sit up without some help. He furrowed his brow, took a deep breath, and looked down. He was prepared to see his twisted, mangled, bloodied form.

He furrowed his brow, even more, when he looked down and saw that he looked… normal. He was no longer covered in bruises, cuts, and blood. His skin wasn’t bulging and swollen from where bones had been broken and were now pressing outwards at awkward angles.

“What?” he whispered, his voice hoarse from screaming and lack of water. This couldn’t be real. Even if he had been unconscious for several hours, he couldn’t have healed this fast.

“So, you’re finally aware.”

He jumped and looked to the far wall to see Mustang of all people. He was dressed in his normal blue uniform, leaning against the wall, arms crossed and looking bored.

“Colonel!” Tears prickled in his eyes. In any other situation, he’d be embarrassed to be so openly happy (and weeping!)to see his commanding officer. Now, though… he wasn’t going to stop himself from crying. He didn’t think he could. All this pain was finally over. Mustang was here to help him. He could keep him safe. He could stop the Cretans from hurting him. Finally, this nightmare was over.

“You’re pathetic, you know that?” Mustang uncrossed his arm to examine his ignition glove.

The phrase gave him whiplash.

The words hurt more than any torture ever could. He knew he was pathetic. He knew he was a waste of space and didn’t deserve to live. But to hear Mustang say it out loud…

“What do you mean?” That was a stupid question. What did he mean? What did Ed think he meant? He bullied his brother into committing a taboo and cost him his body. His mother died. His father left. What did all these things have in common? Him. He was the common denominator. He was the pathetic worm ruining everyone else’s life. The tears in his eyes weren’t because of relief now.

“You’re thinking of doing it.”

He couldn’t help but look over at the glowing, blood-red, pulsing circle. It was now tattooed on the back of his eyelids. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see it there.

“No, I’m not. I swear I’m not.”

“Don’t lie to me!” Mustang snarled. His eyes were flashing hate and fury. Emotions Ed had never seen on his face. “After all, I’ve done for you. I lied for you. I covered for you. And this is how you repay me?”

He wasn’t shouting like normal. If he were, Ed might have been able to shout back. He might have been able to pretend like they were arguing the same as they always had. Instead, Mustang was keeping his voice low and even. It made Ed afraid. Very afraid.

“No, I swear. I’m not going—”

“I swear. I swear. I swear,” Mustang mocked. “Didn’t you swear you’d always look after Al? Look how that turned out? Your brother is a monster because of you.”

“No… that’s not—”

“And instead of letting your poor mother rest in peace, you selfishly resurrected her because you swore it would work. And look what happened! She died, again. Probably in more pain than the last time. And you couldn’t even bother to bury her.”

“I’m not going to use the circle,” Ed said, hot tears starting to leak down his cheeks, dripping from his chin and soaking the floor.

“We both know you are going to use it again. Because you’re weak, pathetic, and an awful human being on top of it. You always complain about me having an ego. What about you? You’re the one who thought the rules didn’t apply to him. Truth didn’t take enough from you.”

There was something acidic in his voice, pure venom Ed wasn’t used to hearing. He was scared. He wanted someone to help him but the one person he wanted to come and save him was currently leaning against a wall and confirming all his self-hating thoughts.

“You’re the one who deserves to be trapped in a metal shell. Not Al. You’re the one who deserves to live the rest of your pathetic life never being able to touch, smell, or taste anything ever again.”

He let out a sigh and stepped forward. “Here I thought you learned your lesson the first time.”

Ed pressed back against the cold wall. It was… wet, and sticky? He turned to see it had started to bleed.

“What are you doing?” He said, forcing himself to turn away from the wall. It was starting to grow softer, feeling more like flesh than stone.

“We both know you’re going to do it. Might as well get it over with.”

Ed tried to scramble to his feet and run away, but he fell over, pain erupting out of the left one. He screamed and looked down to see the black hands grabbing at it, ripping it from his body, port and all.

Mustang bent over and grabbed his left wrist.

The little black hands reached out for his right arm.

He yanked him away as the arms pulled in the opposite direction. Ed screamed again as once more the automail was physically ripped from his body. His wrist snapped in Mustang’s hand.

“Why are you doing this? Why aren’t you helping me? You’re supposed to… you’re my…”

“I’m you’re what, Ed? What am I?” He tossed him down on the circle. He walked away, only to come back and set down a bowl of ingredients.

“Besides, I don’t have to help you. Al is safe in the library. None of my men are in any danger. What makes you think I would ever risk my life to help you? What makes you think that I would ever lift a finger to help you? You don’t deserve my help. You went through the Gate twice and you’re about to go through it again.”

“No—” Before Ed could finish his pathetic attempt at begging, he felt water fill his lungs. He hacked desperately to try and get it out, writhing around on the circle.

“No, please. I’m not going to. I swear,” he said as his hacking quieted down.

Across his body, cuts and bruises started to appear. His remaining arm snapped in half. His ribs crushed under an invisible force. Even if he wanted to scream, he couldn’t.

Mustang came back over to him and kicked him so he was lying on his stomach.

“Don’t worry, Edward. If you survive this, I’ll be sure to execute you myself. You’ve never burned to death before. Have you?”

He grabbed Ed’s wrist and yanked it forward so it was hovering over the circle.

“No! No, please! I don’t want to do it. Don’t make me do it!” He shrieked, hysterical now as the blood-red circle got closer and closer and closer to his hand.

“Don’t you get it? I don’t make you do anything. I didn’t make you do human transmutation last time. I didn’t make you join the military. And I’m not making you do human transmutation this time. You’re doing this of your own free will.”

He tried to wrench his hand out of Mustang’s grasp, but his grip was tight. Crushing.

“Please! Please don’t make me do it! I don’t want to! Please, I’ll do anything!”

“Oh, shut up and accept your fate. Just know, whatever you get, you deserve it and much worse.”

He touched his hand to the circle. White-hot electricity jolted through Ed’s body and he let out another shriek. It felt like every nerve in his body was on fire.

He struggled and thrashed and did everything he could to try and get away, but it was no use. He couldn’t leave. He was pinned there.

He could hear the familiar wheezing of his mother as she formed in front of him. More black hands reached out. To rip. To tear. To take.

He let out another shriek. And opened his eyes.

He was still in the warehouse, but it wasn’t dark. And there was no Mustang. Just the same soldiers he had passed out on. Some of the soldiers briefly glanced his way, but otherwise paid him no attention.

He swallowed and struggled to regain control of his breathing. It was a nightmare. It was just a nightmare. There was no Mustang threatening to burn him to death if he did the transmutation. It was just him. In a warehouse. Full of people who had been torturing him for almost two days now. Somehow, that didn’t seem like an improvement. At least… at least his head seemed a bit clearer. The rest he had had, no matter how brief, shook off some of the cobwebs and allowed him to focus for once.

He swallowed and looked around. Sweaty Man was kneeling on the floor by the main entrance, his back turned to Ed. He furrowed his brow. The last time he had passed out, they woke him up quickly to continue torturing him. This time, though, they were leaving him alone. What was Sweaty Man doing by the door? Why were they suddenly ignoring him?

Sweaty Man didn’t ignore him for long, however, standing up and marching back over to him. The stench of stale sweat washed over him, mingling with the rest of the horrible smells lingering in the air. Ed’s heart rate and breathing picked back up. Sweaty Man grabbed his wrist and dragged him back to the shackles, attaching him to the wall. He hacked up more bloody water and felt a small sense of satisfaction when it got onto Sweaty Man’s sweaty shoes.

He wrinkled his nose and tightened the cuff around Ed’s wrist. The limb was so twisted and swollen, it didn’t fit right. Already he could feel the circulation in his wrist getting cut off.

He whimpered again. Out of everything he had experienced, this should be nothing. And yet, here he was, letting a tight shackle cause him to cry out.

A car pulled up. Some soldiers called out. Sweaty Man kicked his broken leg and went back to the door, kneeling on the ground.

Hang on.

Let me introduce you to my colleague.

Were those… metal footsteps walking to the door?

“Al?” It was the first word he managed to speak in several hours. His throat felt like it was on fire. Even that small word took so much out of him.

He is also an alchemist.

Shit! They had gotten Al from the library. He was walking into a trap. These people… they were going to hurt him. They were going to hurt his little brother.

“Al!” He cried out, trying to make his voice loud enough for his brother to hear. “Al, run!” It was barely above a whisper. He didn’t even know if the people in this room could hear him. If there was ever a time for their brother's telepathy, it was now.

The footsteps got closer.

Ed thrashed, trying to get his foot to draw another transmutation circle in his blood. “Al! You have to run!”

The door creaked open. “Brother?” Al stepped inside.

“Run!”

Sweaty Man put his hands on the ground and there was a flash of alchemy. Al let out a shout and tried to dodge, but it was too late. The floor warped up and around him. His arms and legs were pinned in place. Stone completely encased most of his body. He couldn’t move.

“Brother!” he cried out. “Brother, what’s going on? What’s happening?”

The lieutenant from yesterday and Smelly Man stepped through the door.

Ed didn’t care about him. He cared about the exact moment he could tell Al laid his eyes on him. He went still. Rigid. Those soul fire eyes flared in a way Ed wasn’t familiar with.

“Brother, what did they do to you?” He sounded horrified. He probably was. Ed hadn’t gotten a good look at himself since he left his dorm yesterday morning. Even if the previous dunks in the bucket had gotten rid of a lot of the blood and vomit, there was still more caked on him.

He licked his lips. He should try and comfort him, right? He should try and assure him that everything would be okay.

“Al,” he croaked. He couldn’t do much more than that. Even if he could string together more than a few words, his very appearance was a testament to how not okay the situation was. They were both trapped, unable to move or use alchemy. No one knew where they were and no one would come looking.

Ed was content with letting himself get tortured to death. But things were different with Al here. He couldn’t let him get hurt. It was his fault that he was stuck in that unfeeling prison. It was his fault they did human transmutation in the first place and lost everything. It was his fault he got himself captured by the enemy and let himself get tortured. He would not let Al suffer any more than he had to.

The stench of eggs and fish washed over him. “Now then, agapito agori,” Smelly Man said, smiling and rubbing his hands together.

“I’ll do it,” Ed croaked, not even letting him finish his sentence. He took a deep breath to steady himself and regather his strength. “I’ll do it. Please, just don’t hurt him.”

Smelly Man honestly looked shocked. Sweaty Man muttered something that caused Smelly Man to glare at him.

“Had I known it was that easy, I would have gotten him with you yesterday. You are a very stubborn boy. I did not expect you to be this difficult to break. Oh well, let’s take a look at the circle.”

“Circle?” Al asked, his voice shaking. Ed watched as he turned his head to the damn circle, still untouched in the middle of the room.

Ed wanted to tell him not to look, to just ignore everything and let him handle it.

It was too late. Al saw it and recognized it. “Brother, no! Don’t do it!” He screamed and resumed trying to break out of his stone prison.

Ed tore his gaze from his brother. He was doing this all for him. All to protect him. He still felt ashamed. Al would hate him for this.

He was unshackled and dragged over to the circle, leaving a bloody trail in his wake. He was forced to his one, broken, dangling foot, held up by two men who did not care how much pain he was in.

Al was in the background, begging with him, pleading with him.

Ed blocked him and the pain out and just focused on the circle in front of him. It looked almost exactly like what he and Al had used. The cold feeling in his gut uncurling and spreading through his body, feeling much different than the freezing numbness he had grown accustomed to. It brought him back there. Back to that place. Back to that basement. Back to that thing he created.

Smelly Man sighed and grabbed his hair, yanking his head to look down at the circle. “Now, now, agapito agori, you have wasted enough of our time already. You will tell us about the circle now or we hurt you brother. You do not want him to go through what you went through?”

Al wouldn’t get hurt like him. But if they dumped water on him, the blood seal tethering his soul to this world could get damaged and Ed might just lose him forever.

He forced himself back to the present. “Those two symbols, at the top.” He licked his lips and forced all of his energy on focusing. “I used different ones. Carbon and calcium.”

“Is that all the differences?” Smelly Man asked.

“Yes.”

“Think carefully about this. If you do not successfully do it, we will kill your brother. There will be no second chances here.”

You only get one chance, and you’ve already used yours up.

“Please, brother, don’t do it. It’s not worth it!”

But it was worth it. It was worth it because it brought him and Al some time. He wouldn’t be making it out of this alive. Even if he did survive the transmutation, he’d be put in front of a tribunal for his crimes and then in front of a firing squad. Regardless, he would do everything in his power to make sure Al made it out of this alive.

“Yes, those are the only differences. Everything else looks the same.” He couldn’t bring himself to look at Al. He could imagine the hate, the fury, the anger in his eyes. This was all his fault. He deserved everything the Cretans did to him and more.

Smelly Man smiled and let him drop to the ground, jarring his broken arm. “What about the materials you need?”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine, please don’t do this. I promise I’ll be fine.”

“Water, thirty-five liters. Carbon, twenty kilograms. Ammonia, four liters.”

It was a poem he had memorized and was now reciting without really feeling. The words washing over him without their true meaning being understood. Al continued to thrash in the background, but the stone held firm.

A few times, he had to stop and cough up more water and blood. The growing puddle of fluids should have worried him, but it didn’t. It was almost over. Even Al had stopped trying to escape at some point, finally realizing how hopeless the situation was.

“Is there anything else you need?” Smelly Man asked.

“Something for the soul,” Ed said, tears dripping down his cheeks. His face felt itchy and hard to move.

“How do you get a soul?”

“Blood?” Ed said, his voice cracking.

Smelly Man ran his fingers through Ed’s tangled, greasy strands. “I think you have enough of that, hmm?”

Ed flinched and squeezed his eyes shut. “Please, don’t hurt my brother. He had nothing to do with this.”

Once more, the door opened and closed. They were gathering the materials now.

“Do you not understand? We need you to do the transmutation. The only way you will do it is if your brother is unharmed. It would be unwise of us to harm him before you have completed your duty, agapito agori.” He finally stopped touching his face.

Ed was almost relieved, except then he stood up and walked over to Al.

“Leave him alone!”

Smelly Man ignored him and plucked the helmet from Al’s head, letting out a small gasp. “A soul transmutation?”

He turned back to Ed. “You are the one responsible?”

Ed froze, afraid that no matter how he answered, Al would suffer.

It didn’t seem to matter as Smelly Man turned back to Al without waiting to hear his answer and started studying him. “You are a living suit of armor. This is very advanced alchemy. I have never seen one done successfully. Truly skilled. You are truly skilled, agapito agori.”

“Get away from him!” Ed finally managed to shout. “I’m doing your damn transmutation. Leave him alone.”

“You cannot blame me for being curious. We, scientists, are curious. That is why you did the transmutation in the first place, no?”

“No, that wasn’t…” He started coughing again. Hacking up more blood, water, and mucus.

“How did you know brother could do human transmutation?” Al asked. He was forcing himself to be calm.

“Oh, because of the…” Smelly Man put his hands together, a pantomime of Ed’s normal clap. “An alchemist who can do a transmutation without a circle. That is the only way I know how it can be done. It was a hypothesis. My hypothesis has been proven correct.”

“Why do you want him to do human transmutation?” Al’s voice was shaking, but it wasn’t because of fear. He was angry, furious. If he had been free, Ed doubted there would be anything to stop him from going on a rampage.

“Al, I’m sorry,” he whimpered, still trying and failing to move. Everything hurt so badly. Even if he wanted to do a simple transmutation at this point, he doubted he had the energy and the focus to do it properly. He should be trying to save up, store his energy so that when he did need to do the transmutation, he could do it properly. Or as properly as one could do a human transmutation.

Smelly Man put the helmet back on and waved at Al dismissively. “That is none of your concern.”

He turned back to Ed. “If you survive, agapito agori, we will take you both back to Creta so you can show us soul transmutation.”

Ed’s eyes widened and he let out a pitiful moan. He was hoping they’d just straight up kill him after this. But now they were taking them both to Creta? It was bad enough Ed was constantly worried about Al getting shipped off to a lab here for experimentation. How much worse could it be in another country as a lab rat?

“No, let him go! That wasn’t the deal!” His body was screaming. His head was pounding.

Smelly Man patted Al’s head and stepped away from him. “Truly skilled alchemist you are. Very exciting to see you work.”

Sweaty Man stepped back in the door with a bowl. Al sucked in a breath and Ed’s eyes widened.

That was it. That was everything you needed to make a human.

Sweaty Man set the bowl down in front of him. The stench of ammonia, metals, carbon and other elements swirled around his head, making him dizzy.

“Brother, no! Please, don’t do it!” Al started to scream again. “Please, I’ll be okay!”

The radio crackled to life again. One of the soldiers called out.

Smelly Man turned red and started swearing, storming off to go talk to him. There was more swearing and shouting in Cretan. Ed strained to listen as if he could understand a word they were saying.

Sweaty Man started arguing with Smelly Man, the two growing louder and louder and louder as Smelly Man threw on a coat and stormed out the door.

Sweaty Man let out a roar and punched the wall, pacing back and forth.

Ed hazarded a look at Al, who was just as confused as he was. They… weren’t going to make him do the transmutation? What? After all that build-up?

After a few minutes, Sweaty Man grunted and stomped over to him. “We do not have time to waste. You will do the transmutation now.”

“But… he isn’t here.”

“This was his stupid plan!” Sweaty Man grabbed him by the arm and yanked him off the ground and over to the bowl.

He whimpered as the broken bones jostled and ground together. He pulled out a knife, the metal gleaming in the flickering, fluorescent lights of the warehouse. Ed only had a brief moment to realize what was about to happen before the knife was plunged into his forearm, causing him to shriek as rivulets of blood ran down his arm and plopped into the bowl. It caused a slight depression in the pile of dry ingredients.

Sweaty Man dragged him back to the edge of the circle and threw him down.

“Activate the circle. Do that, and we let your brother live.” He positioned Ed’s hand so it was just touching the edge.

“No! Brother, don’t do it! Please!” Al’s screams echoed in his mind, clambering around and causing his headache to worsen.

Ed managed to pull his head up to look at him.

“Al,” he whimpered, hating that his brother had to see him like this. Hating that he was breaking his promise. Hating that he was going to do human transmutation again. “I’m sorry.”

He took one last breath to study Al, to take in the lines of his armor, the scuff marks he had been careful to buff out. He thought he could see Al’s body, Al’s actual body in front of him. His short blond hair and bright, cheerful eyes. Ed’ would never see his brother again. He’d never get to hug him or fall asleep next to him or chase after him. This was it. This was… he’d never get to see Al’s smile or hear his voice. This was it.

He dropped his head back down, unable to look at Al any longer. Smelly Man said they only got one shot at this. If he screwed up, if he failed, Al would die. He wouldn’t let that happen.

He focused his energy, trying to ignore the pain, the burning, the suffering, the terror that encompassed his entire being. He focused on the array in front of him. He focused on what he wanted the result to be. He focused solely on the task in front of him. He could do this. He had already done it once. What was one more time? He didn’t know what Truth would take from him, but he wasn’t worried about that. That bastard could take whatever they wanted as long as Al was alive and safe.

He could handle Al hating him.

He could handle Mustang turning him in.

He could handle it all as long as Al was safe.

“Brother, no!”

He closed his eyes and focused his energy.

Notes:

Boy, Ed is… not having a good time. It doesn’t help that Dream Mustang and Hallucination Mustang don’t seem to be on the same page when it comes to helping out. Is he going to do the transmutation? Will Mustang and the others get there in time? Will we get the satisfaction of Cretan BBQ? I guess you’ll just have to stick around to find out.