*Blows the dust off*

Um…Yeah, so I finally made it back around. For those who are still following, I assure you, this story lives on. Real life rearing its ugly head a sick bout of writer's block are to blame (that and well, immersing myself in a new fandom but I digress). Never fear, however, I'm back for a time. Let's see what's going to jump off.

Enjoy!

Chapter 18 Impending

"Life is full of all sorts of mysteries and if you have the key, you can unravel them all." He glanced toward his lone pupil, watching as the young man scribbled hurriedly. A slither of pink peeked out of his lips, an excited smile running across his face. He kept his eyes on the young boy, his long quick strokes scratching across the parchment filling the silence. He lifted a heavy hand and placed it on the boy's shoulder, squeezing it gently, "This world will break you if you allow it. You have to be strong. Stand for what you believe in, ensure your survival."

"And our thoughts are the weapons to wield in that fight for survival, right, Master?"

"Exactly," he answered proudly, "weapons to wield and to mold."

The boy stopped writing and lifted his gaze his thin lips spread in a beaming smile. He returned the smile with a prideful gaze, tousling his shaggy wheat colored hair as the boy returned to his work, scratching out a particularly difficult alchemic formula. Once vivid, his blue eyes had dulled over the long years but now sparked with a sort of inspired eagerness that belied the hardships he'd endured. Molding the young boy had been taxing and instilling the discipline needed to cultivate his talents had been an arduous task. Many days and nights were spent in the throes of darkness, harnessing despair and desolation in the attempts to break his will and reform into a clear, strong vessel one that could brandish the innocuous power of the rarest form of alchemy. Madness was what others had called it but he knew it would be the touchstone to a new world, one in which words eclipsed the power of the sword. Shattering his youthful perspective had been a harrowing, lonesome ordeal but a necessary evil.

Now in his sixth year as an apprentice, the fervor best his own master hadn't waned and the determination to meet any challenge disproved any notion that the deceptively dark tactics had broken the lad. The young boy had changed drastically. His youthful visage and innocence had yielded to the harsh planes of post adolescence and a life lived on the cusp of darkness, childish antics seguing into seriousness befitting a man twice his age. Yet the unvarnished enthusiasm he'd encountered so early on in the apprenticeship remained and had excited him; to have such a malleable mind ripe and willing to take the risks involved in exploring the boundaries of their known world had stoked within him a tenacity that he'd hadn't felt in years. The boy had passed each benchmark with just as much- if not more-vigor than most grown men.

"We will be the strength of a new world."

"You," he answered stoically, "you will be the strength of a new world. Shatter the foundation…"

"The house has no choice but to fall."

The soft rustle of pages turning filled the air about him, the soft glow of the lantern beside him casting whimsical shadows against the walls that surrounded him. It was quiet, something he'd simultaneously loathed and welcomed while in the throes of his work. The world ceased to spin when he entered this room, this space of sparse lighting and stagnant air yet it was a lonesome existence he'd often desired. Encircled by wisdom and intrigue was always amendable, especially now that he'd achieved full momentum. Everything was working as it should and the pieces were falling into place perfectly.

Master would be proud.

He pulled his hands through his messy brown hair as he gazed at the book before him, phantom images of a world changed pushing him ever closer to the precipice of absolute ecstasy. All the suffering, the lunacy endured was now coming to fruition. Master had spared no expense relentlessly drilling him at such a young age, taking him under his wing to teach, to mold- at the expense of his mental and physical well-being. He'd been a strict man, unwilling to allow a few cries of pain to deter his ultimate goal. He'd come to understand after his master's death that the price of his happiness, his sanity was so little, considering he'd given him the tools to change the world.

And so, he'd endured.

He endured the seemingly endless nights thrown into the abyss of spiraling madness, the visceral nightmares forever clinging to his waking mind. Endured years of debilitating pain, disturbed by the fear of abject loneliness conjured by delving into the uninhabited darkness of the shadows of his own mind, and only reachable by few. Although madness held him within its grasp, he'd been gifted with the power of just the spoken word and tasked with divining this gift to others. The journey had been riddled with despair but the reward was evident; many had joined his cause and celebrated his vision and many more were to come.

Acquiring the Fullmetal Alchemist had been his finest achievement yet she'd been a troublesome find. She was all bluster and vitriol. She was obstinate and uncontrollable, not something he'd been particularly keen on cultivating but he was nothing but persistent. Her merits outweighed the detractors; her access alone into the inner workings of the Amestrian military and posited him in a beneficial position. He couldn't help the effervescence that surfaced at the thought of her return. She was integral to his plans, her mere presence would be the catalyst to the death of the symbol of Amestris as it was, paving the way for his new world. His lips stretched across his face, revealing his gleaming white teeth as his thoughts darkened. It had taken some time but the board had been set and the pawns positioned.

Destruction would come through fire and tribulation and he would be there to rebuild, an architect with the blueprint to a new life.

"You shatter the foundation; the house has no choice but to fall," he whispered feverishly.

And fall, it would.

"So, what you're telling me is that my sister's a traitor?"

That question had set the tone pretty quickly and it was the last words Alphonse had uttered before he'd answered, the air filled with an odd mixture of expectancy and dread. Roy had settled behind his desk and eased back into his chair, watching, waiting for Alphonse to continue and Maes had taken his perch on the corner of his desk, his discerning green eyes relaxing on the younger Elric. When the younger man had looked to him for an answer, he acquiesced and began the tumultuous tale, his gaze resolute and his tone strong and clear. He promised himself, no matter how Alphonse reacted, that he would remain transparent in disclosing the situation but there would be no need in alluding to the play at attraction between he and Ed. Doing such would derail the entire conversation and throw even more conflicts onto the already smoldering fire.

It seemed as if he'd talked for hours. His throat had been dry before beginning, apprehensive of how Alphonse would react to everything and he hadn't taken a moment to relieve his anxiety with a glass of water or even allow a restless Maes to take over. As he saw it, Ed was his subordinate and his responsibility to report her deeds and service.

Several pockets of silence later, Roy watched as Alphonse massaged his temple, his eyes closed tightly in quiet contemplation. Considering what he'd heard, his response was…tame. There wasn't a despondent exhale or an angry retort, just an odd sense of serenity. For what seemed like an eternity, Alphonse had sat in that repose, his chest rising and falling easily, face free of any strife. If he hadn't known any better, he'd thought the younger man had drifted off to sleep.

Roy cast a dubious glance toward Maes, the other man shrugging his shoulders as the silence continued to stretch on. He wasn't particularly worried about Alphonse- he'd seen and endured enough hell that would've quelled the anticipatory anxiety but still…this was Ed they were talking about.

"Alphonse…"

"What's the plan?" Roy's attention snapped to Alphonse, somewhat taken aback by the authoritative tone, even more so when he lifted his head and regarded him sternly. The burnished gold of his gaze was hard, resolute even, and Roy swallowed thickly in the face of such an uncharacteristic showing of arrogant assurance.

Silence threaded between them before Alphonse voiced his query again, this time leveling Maes with his stony glare, "I refuse to believe that you don't have a plan." Shifting his focus to Roy, he sat forward, his lips pursed tightly as if attempting to reign in his fury, "After everything… you're not leaving my sister at the mercy of this… this madman, Colonel."

"We're not even sure of her whereabouts, Alphonse. She left of her own−

"Bullshit," Alphonse spat angrily. He stood quickly and began to pace, his eyes cast downward, his brow knit. Roy traded glances with Maes as the younger man's quiet fury simmered, his right arm closed around his chest as his left hand cradled his chin. "Ed wouldn't do something like this. She wouldn't."

"But she did, Alphonse," Roy replied gently.

"She wouldn't run away."

"She has," Maes chimed. Alphonse tossed him a withering glare and Maes shrugged his shoulders, "There was no evidence of tampering on the shackles or the stocks, granted, but she didn't exactly stick around to explain anything."

"Clearly, she's being forced?!"

"She seemed of clear conscious when I faced her that day." Most of that was true, Roy mused silently. He remembered that brief moment in which the fury had dissipated, her cloudy eyes seguing into confusion. What Maes had inferred could have directly correlated with that moment but he couldn't allow that to taint the particulars. What mattered, at the moment, was finding Ed.

Alphonse stopped pacing, coming to rest before Roy's desk. He leaned forward his palms splayed over the shiny surface, the anger bleeding out of his eyes. He bowed his head, taking in a deep breath before releasing it slowly. His lean frame seemed to shrink as if determined to burrow in despair, suffusing the raging fire of retribution that fueled his act of supplication was unnerving, unnatural even. It was easy to remember the meek voice trapped in a hollow iron cell, easy to remember how even though ensnared by circumstance, he had the will and relentless resilience to see his purpose realized. Apparently, that was something both Elric siblings had in common.

"Despite what you think she's done, she doesn't deserve this. She doesn't deserve abandonment." Alphonse exhaled once more, keeping his eyes lowered, "She's a hero, an alchemist for the people."

"She's also an escaped convict," Roy reminded solemnly.

"Just another moniker she's gained," Alphonse countered cleverly. He raised his head and squared his sights with Roy, the vivid gold lurching to life under a perfectly arched brow. Roy knew that expression. It was an omen of things to come.

"You're not going to let this go are you, Alphonse?"

"You, more than anyone else, Colonel should know the strength of our fortitude. We do not give up. We don't quit."

"This isn't a game."

"Hell isn't a game and I sailed right through that. Try again, Colonel." There was a familiar confidence in Alphonse's voice that sent shivers of anticipation down his spine. The hint of challenge in Alphonse's glare, the visceral determination set in his scowl segued perfectly with her annoyingly vaunting demeanor. Met with that expression, Roy could only shake his head, the phantom echo of her arrogant chuckle filling his ear. He could no more dismiss Alphonse than he could ignore the pang of guilt in his heart for his part in all of this.

Exhaling wearily, Roy averted his eyes, massaging his temples. Ed never wanted to involve her younger brother in any of the military's machinations but knowledge was valuable and Alphonse possessed a wealth of it. Still, if he didn't navigate this carefully, he'd be staring down the barrel of the volatile explosion that was Edaline Elric.

He had enough to deal with as it were.

"The scope of your assistance will be research." Roy held his hand up to stave any argument and continued, "See if you can find anything of worth on Armand Feldon and Tate Steward. They are possibly the only two people who practiced this this rare form of alchemy."

"Master Armand Feldon…"

"The Knowing Alchemist," Roy finished stonily. He still couldn't believe that he was even entertaining such an idea. Alchemists were purveyors of science; the physical world was their tool to manipulate and use at will. Roy had never known a form of alchemy that didn't initiate from the elements. An alchemy that influenced thoughts was a terrifying prospect, one he would rather not allow to exist. "We know next to nothing about this, Alphonse."

"It's quite possible that Master Feldon has been through the Gate," Alphonse posited quietly, "though there's no way to possibly prove that." He glanced up at Roy, "I'll need access to the library."

Roy scratched his head absently as he shot a quick glance at Maes, "That won't be a problem."

"Not that library, Colonel."

Roy shifted his focus back to Alphonse, his eyes widening a measure, "You already know that's out of the question, Al."

"And you already know that I'll never find anything about Master Feldon or his type of alchemy among the harmless troves of basic transmutation formulas." Alphonse narrowed his brow, "Don't try and hamstring me on this Mustang. Treat me as an equal in this or I walk- and then find my own way."

An ominous disquiet filtered through the office as Roy considered his options. He could challenge Alphonse and order him to stay within the boundaries provided or he could acknowledge that Alphonse Elric would defy him as his older sister had done on countless occasions and merely wait for the other shoe to drop. Roy exhaled and stood quickly, catching Maes' reluctant gaze. There was just no way around that fearsome Elric resolve.

Roy groaned and muttered as he motioned for Maes to follow, "Major Hughes, secure Mr. Elric access to the State Alchemist Library." Roy stopped and turned to face Alphonse, annoyed at the younger man's glib grin, "You have less than twenty-four hours. I suggest you use them wisely."

"Glad you see it my way, Colonel." Alphonse followed the two men as they moved toward the door. Roy paused to open the door and Alphonse stopped briefly to add, "You'll have the information you need in twelve hours, tops."

Roy clicked his tongue dismissively and muttered, "Goddamned Elrics are too smart for their own good."

"It's a part of our charm," Alphonse responded coyly. He shifted his cheeky smile to Maes and motioned him to lead the way, "Major, if you will."

Hughes rolled his eyes and started off. This was his just due, he supposed.