Hey hey hey! It's been a while, but I finally am publishing the next chapter!

Thank you to the reviews I've gotten. And a special shout out to Rockium for drawing a cover for this story, which is the one I currently have up. It's awesome art, and to think that someone took their time to make something based off of something I wrote makes me really really happy! Thank you so much!

Anywho, sorry for taking such a long time. School is rough, inspiration sometimes comes in slowly, and trying to focus on this and all the other projects I have no business taking on considering everything, all lead up to me being a particularly slow updater, or at least slower than I would like. But thank's to all who've taken the time to read this story, and I hope everyone have enjoyed! I love you all, my children.

And another shout out to Rockium, my soon-to-be Beta reader. I'll be looking forwards to working with you!

Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, which makes me somewhat sad, but it's better to leave the genius work that is FMA to the genius queen that is Arakawa-sensai.

And without further ado, on with the show!

Chapter 7: After the Rain

Rain was sad. It was a cold drops of water falling from clouds, with no control over where they fell and who they fell on. Rain could water the plants and refuel the oceans, or they can be unfortunate enough to simply land on the stone streets, where they'll be doomed to either be lost in a drain full of the waste-water, which only the rats cared about, or they'd evaporate off the streets when the sun came out, their pointless life being cut tragically short.

Or, they could land on a living thing. They could soak into the clothes of a human, drench their hair, make them freeze. This was also a pointless existence as well. The human had no use for the rain coating them. They would dry themselves off later, letting the drops of water die. The life of a rain-drop was cold, and sad.

Edward was covered in raindrops. His automail, which his beloved Granny worked so hard to make, was torn apart. Barely any of it was left. He felt the water hit his skin as if he were not wearing any clothes in the first place. It drizzled down his face, and dripped off his hair. Drip, drip, drip. These drops would die, the only achievement they've made would be soaking a young boy and making him cold, instead of giving life to the plants and the oceans. Edward parted his lips into a small smile. Would this be his life? Would he die, the only accomplishment he had ever achieved would be hurting others?

He found a park bench to sit on. It was just as wet as everything else, but Ed was already soaked, so he didn't see the point in complaining. His legs moaned in relief as he took his weight off of them. The weight of the world had hung on his head, and it was just too much!

Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry. He told himself. Alphonse can't cry. I took that from him. I don't deserve to cry!

"Where is it?" Nina cried. "Did it get lost?"

"You can't even hold someone's hands!?"

"Big brother,"

That damned harpsichord was playing again. But Edward ignored it this time. The sound of poor little Nina's voice reminding him of his mistakes was louder. He lost Al's body. He took away Winry's hands. He let Nina die. And now, he hurt a man who had looked out for them.

"Do you mind if I sit here," Said a deep voice, pulling Edward away from his thoughts. The little boy looked up to see who was talking to him.

A large man in a bright yellow jacket, with brown skin, white hair, and sunglasses. And a large scar shaped as an X in the middle of his forehead.

Ed's eyes widened in fear, as he felt his entire body freeze. That was him; Scar. The state alchemist killer. The one who killed Nina and Tucker. The one who would try to kill him.

Ed tightened his coat around himself, a motion that simply looked like a young boy trying to keep warm, but he was really covering his pocket, where the chain for his State Alchemist watch was poking out.

"I'll take that as a yes," The scarred man said, sounding annoyed.

Ed felt himself shaking. There was a killer sitting next to him. He needed to run! He needed to run! But his legs wouldn't move! Ed took a deep breath and calmed himself down. He couldn't act out. Average citizens didn't exactly know what Scar looked like, and Ed couldn't let this man know that he did. He would act like a normal child; maybe some delinquent high-school boy who was playing hooky, and got caught up in the weather. He would act like that until either the man left, or his legs finally started to move again.

"Yeah, sure, you can sit here," Ed mumbled, keeping his voice even. The man simply grunted in response.

Silence hung in the air. I gotta leave! I gotta leave! I gotta leave! Ed kept shouting to himself.

His legs still didn't go anywhere. He felt like he had been frozen to the park bench.

"Boy, mind if I ask what your doing out here?" Scar questioned.

"Nothing," Ed answered, trying to sound calm.

"Shouldn't you be in school?"

Ed laughed bitterly at that. "Yeah, I really should be, shouldn't I?"

"So your playing hooky," Scar assumed.

Good! Think that! Think of me as some random kid, not someone you wanna brutally murder! "So what if I am?"

"If you're going to play hooky," The large man grumbled, "I'd recommend not spending your time in the rain,"

"Then what are you doing out here?" Ed challenged instinctually, immediately regretting it, since he had wanted to stop talking to this man, out of both fear, and anger. He cursed his impulsive nature to start arguments.

"Waiting," The man answered simply. Ed prayed the conversation would end there. Of corse it didn't. "Boy, what's your name,"

A surge of fear charged through Ed's body. Every move he made screamed as if something was wrong. The amount of time he hesitated, to the look on his face. Anything could be noticed.

Well, he was supposed to be a delinquent anyways.

"What's your name," Ed challenged, hoping that would be enough for the scarred man.

"Touché," Scar replied. Ed let out a sigh of relief, slowly, and through his nose, to keep it quiet.

Silence settled again. Edward felt as if his heart would explode through his chest. This was fear. The same kind of feeling that swelled up in his stomach and threatened to spew out in a mess of bile and blood whenever a bullet sped past his face, or when he saw the corpses of other people, killed in different kinds of horrible ways. Running wasn't possible at this point; his legs had already frozen into ice and crumpled away. All he could do was wait until Scar left. But who knew how long that would be.

As much as Ed tried his best to hide his discomfort and fear, Scar still took notice. There was something strange about this boy to him. One arm was skinnier than the other. The coat was oversized, so it was hard to tell, but the rain left the fabric hanging against his very skin. One arm looked normal, the other; the one he didn't seem to be using; almost looked like the sticks and strings that the children back at his home would put together, so that they could play pretend, bragging about their "automail arm", oblivious to the actual hardships of being an amputee with such mechanical limbs.

He had never seen a single person with gold eyes before. There was pain inside them. Scar had known pain. There was also some sort of strength inside this boy's eyes.

He was an older brother, Scar was sure of it. The look was unmistakable.

"Is your sibling also playing hooky?" Scar asked him. It took a second before he got an answer. The boy had seemed to get lost in space, and it took a while before he realized Scar had started to talk again.

"Sibling?" Ed squeaked, nervous. He hoped that his squeak didn't give him away.

"You're an older brother, I can tell," Scar said. Ed shuttered slightly. If he could tell something like that…

"No, he's in school," Ed quickly lied, mostly to give the man an answer. Damn it! Work, you stupid legs!

"You should go to him, then," Scar told him, slowly taking off his sunglasses and rubbing his eyes. It occurred to Ed that this killer was actually trying to convince him to go back to the school he was supposedly skipping. Ed wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh at the irony or punch the man in his stupid face.

"I probably should," Ed muttered. He tried to sound smug, and defiant, like any other delinquent teen.

Scar slipped his glasses back on, before replying with; "Then why are you still here?"

"Why do you care?" Ed quickly snapped back.

"At least go inside," Scar insisted. "Seeing you shiver is making me suffer,"

Ed rolled his eyes. He would've loved to leave, but his legs decided they didn't want to function. Scar was right, though; he was freezing, and the rain made his stumps ache. He didn't like being out here. He wanted to go.

Ed finally decided to just tell the guy to leave.

"Ok, I'll be blunt," Ed snapped, not looking at Scar. "You creep me out. My legs are to scared to move right now, so if you want me to get out of the rain that badly, then could you leave me alone?"

"And why do I creep you out," The large man asked, suspicious.

"Cause your fucking ten feet tall, and look like you could benchpress a fucking bear!" Ed spat out. It was an exaggeration, but it was enough a reason for the scarred man.

He nodded. "Fair enough," The man stood up, stretched a slight bit, and slipped his hands into his pockets, before continuing on his merry way. "I'll leave you be,"

The moment Scar left, Ed felt his legs suddenly snap back to life. He ran away from the park bench as fast as he could, not sure where he was trying to go, but wanting to be anywhere but that spot in the park, where he just so happened to run into a man who wanted to kill him.

Ed thanked his luck that Scar never thought he was anything more than some kid skipping school.

Ed stopped at a building, and laughed to himself, slightly. "Isn't it absolutely wonderful when death itself decides to sit it's ass down next to you?" Ed muttered, his voice full of acid and sarcasm.

His thoughts then went to where he would go next. Eastern Command was the most logical option, but…

He wasn't ready to face his friends after he had hurt them like that.

No, he wasn't ready to go into Eastern Command and sort through his issues yet. So for now, he would just keep walking.

Scar wondered through the streets, hoping the kid he just met had heeded his advice and gone back to class. It was likely that the kid hadn't, but there was always hope.

Scar had to be careful. As far as he knew, his appearance hadn't been leaked to the public yet, but it was bound to happen soon. And all because that little yellow-haired girl just so happened to walk into that room at the wrong time. Under normal circumstances, he would've simply killed the witness. She looked so sad and helpless, as she puked up her guts onto the blood-stained floors, that he easily could've justified her murder with pity. But he let her live for some reason. What reason that was, he wasn't sure. Maybe because she looked familiar, like someone he'd seen before, or maybe because she held so much hate and animosity because of the events that occurred in that house, all within her thin body, that Scar had no choice but to relate to her. Both he, and the yellow-haired girl he decided not to kill, shared the same hatred for all the pain and suffering in this world. A sister in his suffering would not die by his hands.

There was an old newspaper outside of a shop, covered in a plastic bag to keep dry. It hadn't been collected by anyone; simply left to sit and soak in the rain. So, Scar decided to take it.

On the front page was some article about tax benefits. The more Scar read the news, the more he began to grow angry at that front page article. Lior, a town up north of East City, was going through total chaos, and it was given barely even a footnote of coverage. And the front page thought that Tax Benefits where more important than an entire city's suffering. And it wasn't like it was some little spot on the map. Lior was big, and held a large population. This event deserved more than a footnote.

A separate article peeked Scar's interest, however. It was about the arrest of the Blue Squad after their train invasion that had happened a week ago. Most interesting was the picture it came with. It showed a few high-ranking military officers meandering about the station, but the figure that stood out the most was a large suit of armor, who was holding a familiar girl in his arms. A closer look at the photo showed that she had received some sort of foot injury. It didn't take long for Scar to figure out that she was the little yellow-haired girl he had come across in Tucker's attack. There was something strange about the armored guy holding her. It seemed their eye sockets sorta glowed.

There where two other individuals not wearing a military uniform. A young woman, who was standing next to the armored guy, dressed in what seemed to be expensive clothes, and a young boy in a jacket that looked a bit to big for him.

Scar narrowed his eyes, holding the picture closer to his face. The boy in the photo looked exactly like the kid he just met. Everything, from the long braided hair, to the exotic complexion, to the cowlick that stuck out of the center of the little boys bangs. Hell, even the hight was the same.

Scar read the caption under the picture, which named each individual from left to right. His face paled when he read the name "Winry Rockbell,". So, that is why that girl looked so familiar…

Soon, he matched the small kid up with the name Edward Elric. The Fullmetal Alchemist.

So, that was why the boy seemed so nervous about Scar being near him.

The large man let out an annoyed sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You've got to be joking,"

"Ed started having a panic attack, and I tripped on some tools while trying to reach for him," Hughes, for the hundredth time in the past hour, explained to HQ doctor as she wrapped his bleeding arm in bandages. He was cursing himself for freaking out after getting stabbed. Hughes berated himself for screaming, knowing that it didn't make anything better for the poor boy. He should've kept it in, and simply talked to the boy gently, but the nerve receptors in his brain flew out of control and he started screaming.

He had wanted to go out and look for Ed right away. Alphonse, Winry, and Catherine held the same idea, but they where caught trying to sneak out by Armstrong and Mustang, who took one look at Hughes' bleeding arm and decided that he was not fit to go out in the rain. They assigned the MP's to look for Edward, but Hughes wasn't happy with that arrangement, since they proved themselves unreliable when they failed to find Winry.

Armstrong practically held his younger sister hostage to keep her from doing anything, reminding her that she had a fever, despite the fact that she was in no mood to listen. Winry couldn't go outside with her cast on, and was locked in Mustangs office with Alphonse to keep the two of them from sneaking out. However, they didn't consider the fact that Alphonse would jump out the window to go find Ed. So, now both brother's where missing, and Winry was absolutely pissed off that Al didn't take her with him.

Hughes had decided that it would be a good idea not to tell the others that Ed had stabbed him. Instead, he had thrown a few tools in the crematory onto the floor, where much of his blood had dripped into a small puddle, swash them around the blood-puddle with his foot to make them look responsible for his stab wound, and then ran out to try to find Ed. He had given even Mustang, his closest friend, the false story; That Ed had a panic attack in the crematory, likely because the smell of flesh triggered some sort of PTSD attack within him, and Hughes had spaced out prior to Ed's panic. The scream shocked him back into reality, and he panicked a slight bit, and started running over to Edward to help the poor kid settle down. In his rush, he spilled some tools onto the ground, tripped, and got stabbed by one of them. The accident just made everything worse for the poor boy, and Ed had ran away in terror.

The only person who seemed to question the story was the doctor.

"And somehow landing on tools made a perfect slit in your arm," She said, obviously not believing the story one bit.

"Listen, Dr…" Hughes leaned slightly to the left, in order to look at her name tag, much to the annoyance of the middle-aged woman. "Yvette, I told you exactly what happened. You thoroughly checked me out. I don't have led poisoning, or any kind of metal poisoning, and I'll be fine and dandy as soon as we get the wound covered. I don't think being suspicious of the patient is in your job description," Hughes nearly snapped. He was loosing his patience, a rare occurrence for the young father, but it had been a long week. A last minute trip to the east, mountains of paperwork, learning that his hero had been murdered, and then suddenly his Elric Crew are shoved down a rabbit hole from hell. Needless to say, he was stressed, angry, and felt like he was about to explode. Dr. Yvette's endless questioning wasn't helping the matter.

The doctor glared at him. "Do you want to survive your injuries?" She asked, bluntly, annoyance laced throughout.

"Well, yeah, I'd prefer not dying, thank you very much," Hughes quipped.

"Then don't tell me how to do my job," Dr. Yvette threatened, tightening the bandages on his arm a little bit. Hughes rolled his eyes. It seemed that no matter what command center he went to, all the head doctors working there would be the same; absolutely grumpy, and done with everyone's shit to the point where they would even snap at people not giving them any shit.

Hughes resolved to simply growl under his breath. It would be useless to argue with the stubborn woman. Instead, he let his mind drift. His thoughts where on Edward, and the other members of the Elric crew. Panic attacks, flashbacks, hallucinations; The poor kids where ridden with PTSD. Hughes didn't like that. Not one bit. PTSD was common for soldiers. He was still plagued with nightmares after Ishval, though, it had been getting better since his marriage, his daughters birth, and since he started seeing a therapist. He had recorded the entire story of his life in the war into a journal, which he hid deep in the kitchen cabinets. Only his wife and Roy Mustang knew it existed, and neither had read it; Hughes had begged them not to. A hard and difficult road. PTSD was a large, ugly, shitty burden. And it made him angry that those poor kids had to bear it.

He was soon patched up, and Dr. Yvette finally let him go. "I suggest you try to work on your balance, Lieutenant Colonel," She lectured him. "It must have been your cushy office job that's made you rusty. The late General Grand bragged about how you where the most coordinated soldier in his regiment. So either he was exaggerating, you've gotten very rusty, or your lying about how you got that injury,"

A swell of pride gathered in Hughes' heart upon hearing that Grand had appreciated his skill. The man who saved his life on the battlefield, even if it was indirectly. He sent anonymous letters to Gran to thank him; he couldn't see him in person, as it made him think of the battlefield. He had only mustered up enough courage to thank the man personally a few months ago, and now, he was incredibly happy he had done so before the Iron Blood alchemist was murdered.

"I told you, I'm not lying," Hughes said, giving the doctor a bright smile, and a small hug. Yvette didn't hug back; he didn't expect her to, they where practically strangers to each other; but Hughes had his rumors about his "enduring lack of social boundaries," to make the hug look like a normal Hughes thing. The annoying old doctor, who was still nagging him about his alibi, despite it not relatively being any part of her business, didn't need to know that he could've cried tears of joy if he had been younger and less hardened over the knowledge of Basque Grand that she had supplied him.

"Crazy man," Dr. Yvette muttered under her breath as Hughes walked away. She was definitely going to make a note that he may have been lying about his injury.

Winry was going to murder him, Al could be sure of that. It wasn't like she could just jump out the window herself with her foot the way it was, and having her wound re-opened was not a pleasant experience. But she still wanted to go look for Edward, and Al had just left her in the room, despite her requesting that he help her out the window as well. But Al did has his reasons for leaving her behind; she had already nearly froze herself to death only a day earlier when she walked all the way from the Tucker estate to Eastern Command in the rain; he wouldn't let her risk it again.

She was probably planning to put him in his grave anyways, though.

The rain was pelting hard. Al could hear the loud echoes of the drops vibrate within and around his metal body. Rain was already cold; Al held knowledge of this, though he had forgotten it's feeling; and to think it was pouring down so hard and so fast… Edward would be soaked to the bone. He would also freeze.

Al ran throughout the streets, unsure as to where Ed would go, and he had no destination in mind. He knew it would be impossible to miss seeing his brother, for the little boy stood out in a crowd, so he didn't bother keeping focus on his surroundings. Instead, he let go of the binds clamping his shattered heart together, and morned for Nina inside his mind, while his body continued it's movements. His song of pain never had sound, it seemed. A silent and tragic tune, that made eyes shed tears and hearts break in two, despite no one knowing why they where devastated when they could here nothing, and did not know of the tune playing with no sound.

Alphonse had to find his brother! Before he froze to death in the rain! Before he was found by the State Alchemist killer and murdered! Before Ed did something to himself that he promised Al he would never do again.

The blade and the blood never left his mind.

No, his big brother would not. His beautiful, strong, big brother, who he loved with all his heart, and would go to the ends of the earth to protect. His Edward; the boy who was reckless, and silly, and had the aesthetic of shit. Who was protective, and brave, and would always do his best to keep Alphonse and Winry safe. To carry their guilt. He suffered a million hells for them and he was willing to suffer a million more; whatever it took to achieve their goal. Who put on a smile and a brave face, and a demeanor of stubbornness, whenever he was drowned by pain.

But Alphonse had always thought that Edward had the most terrible of poker faces.

"He won't do it!" Alphonse said to himself, his voice cracking, as if he had been crying. "He promised me he wouldn't!"

He won't do it. He won't do it. He won't do it. He won't do it.

"Ed, please!" Al wailed. "You can't do it! I need you!"

It was then that Al spotted a small figure with gold hair and a red, oversized jacket.

"Brother!" Alphonse called out.

Ed froze in his place. Then he took off in a run.

Alphonse chased his brother, knowing he would catch up. He couldn't tire or run out of energy to run like Ed would, and his strides where longer, and he himself was faster.

"Big brother! Wait!" Al shouted, catching up to the older boy. The moment he could, he wrapped his arms around Edward, holding him in a tight grip, keeping the little boy from running away again.

"Let go!" Ed screamed, as he kicked and cried.

"Not gonna happen!" Al snapped. "Brother you have to go inside, your gonna freeze to death!"

"I hurt him, Alphonse!" Ed cried out. "I can't go there, I hurt him!"

"The Lieutenant Colonel's worried about you!" Alphonse argued back.

"He hates me! He hates me!" Ed wailed. "He was good to us and I hurt him! I hurt everyone! You, Winry, Hughes, — Everyone! He hates me! He hates me! I hate me!"

Alphonse simply squeezed harder. He knew that his hugs where uncomfortable; physically painful, even. But he couldn't let his brother go. "Ed stop!" Al cried. "Ed, please! Don't do it again! I need you!"

Ed stopped struggling, hanging limply in Alphonse's arms, like a rag doll. "I won't do it again, I promis," He breathed, his voice quiet and sad. Never again. Never will I hurt my brother like that again.

"Is he okay?" Ed asked, quietly. "Is Lieutenant Colonel Hughes okay?"

"He's fine," Alphonse assured his brother. "He wanted to go look for you, but the Colonel forced him to go see Dr. Yvette,"

"Alright, that's good," Ed murmured. Dr. Yvette was good at her work. Hughes would be fine. "And Winry?"

"I left her at headquarters," Al laughed. "She's probably going to kill me for that!"

Ed smiled slightly. "Al, why do you think you need me? You really don't. You'd be better—"

"Finish that sentence and I'll knock you out," Alphonse said firmly, devastated. "I need you, brother. I really do. And I don't care if you believe me or not. I know I'm telling the truth. And if you don't believe me, then you better not fucking show it!"

Ed sighed, defeated. "Al, I might have broke my automail. With a rock,"

"Is it bad?"

Ed rolled up his sleeve, revealing the damage, and the fact that there was hardly any automail left. Alphonse sighed, exasperated. "Ed, you've got to take better care of yourself!"

"I know," Ed muttered.

"You remember your promis, big brother?"

"Yeah," Ed hummed. He would never forget the promis he made. It would constantly sit in his brain, and he would listen to this.

"Can you say it?" Al asked. "You remember things better when you say them,"

"I promis that I will live for you, and for Winry, not die for you. I will live on, and I won't throw my life away,"

"Because…"

"Because, if I die, it would hurt you more than your missing body. I am important to you. And I will not leave you here alone for any reason,"

Al could've smiled, his happy coming back to him. "Good job brother,"

Ed nodded. "Lets get back,"

Edward wasn't what one would consider a huggy person. In fact, if he could avoid being touched, he would usually be plenty happy. However, Hughes wrapping him into a hug, despite the injured arm, wrapped up in a sling, holding his little boy close to him so that Edward wouldn't leave again, made Edward thankful. And he hugged the young father back.

In normal situations, Ed didn't like being touched. In situation's like these, a hug from a man who treated Edward like his own son was something Ed needed more than anything in the world.

Alphonse was right about Winry. The first thing she did when he came back was throw her wheelchair at him, squeezing her arms around the heavy contraption hard, and letting it fly. Al wasn't even sure how that was even somewhat possible.

"Al you dumbass!" Winry snapped. "I told you not to leave me behind!"

"Sorry Winry," Al moaned from his place on the floor, with the chair weighing on his body.

Winry went up to Ed and gave him a hug. "Don't do that again," She demanded.

"Yeah, yeah, I won't," Ed sighed, using his usual crabby tone of voice, but hugging her back anyways.

"Ed, roll up your right sleeve," Winry suddenly said.

Fearful of her wrath, he did what she said.

"EDWARD WHAT THE HELL!" Winry screeched. "My Granny put hard work in to this! Do you know how long its gonna take to replace it! At least tell me you kept track of the parts,"

"Well…" Ed muttered, scratching the back of his head.

Winry turned to the nearest wall and banged her head on it a couple of times.

"Listen, Ed, I know you where upset, but please don't take it out on your automail. Or any part of yourself, for that matter," Winry demanded.

Ed smiled nervously. "Don't worry. I'll take better care of myself next time. Besides, Al already gave me the lecture,"

"You saw Scar?" Mustang questioned Edward, sounding surprised, and slightly worried.

The small teen just rolled his eyes, his body sinking deeper into the couch, if that was even possible. It looked as if he was trying to morph into the thing; simply squeeze into the cushions until he disappeared within them.

Ed didn't really feel like recounting his run-in with the mass murderer, but unfortunately for him, there wasn't much that could be done. Mustang was going to question him, and Ed could either stubbornly refuse to talk, and be stuck at Eastern Command for hours, or he could give the damn Colonel what he wanted, and walk out of the office in hopefully less than ten minutes.

"Is there any detail about Scar that would add to Winry's description of him?" Mustang asked, pulling out a notepad and a pencil.

"He took his sunglasses off at some point," Ed thought back, trying to remember the mans eye color; he hadn't exactly been paying attention. Though, he dug into his memory, to the brief second Scar's eyes had been hoping before he slipped the glasses back on. The majority of what Ed could remember where the whites of his eyes. Though, he did get a small glimpse of the iris. It was a dark color, but a familiar one.

Right. His eyes where red.

Well, that certainly explained a lot.

"He's Ishvallan," Ed stated, sighing slightly.

The veterans of the room seemed to shiver, despite the room's temperature never changing.

"That explains why he's targeting State Alchemist," Mustang hummed, his smug expression of youthful confidence he normally wore melting off his face, transforming into the face of someone older, tired, and who'd seen the worst the world had to offer.

He didn't need to explain. Everyone in the room all knew, to a certain extent. The younger, less experienced members of the military remembered the incident that sparked a nine-year war between two cultures, when an Amestrian soldier accidentally shot and killed an Ishvallen child. Everyone knew that the Ishvallens; resilient people, with brown skin, white hair, and crimson eyes. Everyone knew that the soldiers of Ishval could not be taken down with manpower alone. Everyone knew that the military sent the State Alchemist into the battlefield to eliminate the issue, and secure Amestris a victory.

But that was as far as public information went. Those that knew better; the war veterans, and their closest allies; knew that the events that took place between the Ishvallens and the State Alchemist wasn't just a simple war.

It was genocide.

"In some way, his vengeance would be justified," Mustang laughed, wryly, with little humor.

"Well, that's bullshit," Ed said quietly. "He's targeting people who weren't even a part of the war,"

"Seems he doesn't care which State Alchemist is guilty and which is innocent," Winry spat, gritting her teeth. Scar would've killed Edward had he known the boy was the State Alchemist he was looking for. "And apparently even a child deserves death, even though they weren't even ten during the Civil War!"

Al placed a hand on Winry's shoulder to calm her down. She was holding a similar anger to Scar that she had to the people of Youswell when they where thrown out. But this time, it was a matter of life and death. And while Edward had tried to excuse the dirt-poor, military hating miners for throwing them out, he wasn't going to excuse Scar.

There was no excuse for murder.

"Whatever the case may be," Mustang spoke again, "We're not going to let ourselves become victims of his 'cause'. We will be on careful, on high alert, and, if we have to, we will kill the man before he has a chance to kill us. Understood?"

Edward, Alphonse, and Winry all visibly flinched when every soldier in the room accepted that order.

"Well, on that lovely note," Hughes muttered, "What are you kids planning to do now?"

"We'd probably would have head towards one of the research labs in the West, but someone had to go and bust up his automail," Winry quipped, glaring daggers at Edward.

"Don't look at me like that!" Ed demanded. "We owe Granny a visit, anyways. Kill two birds in one stone, right?"

Winry simply continued to glare at her friend, unamused with his weak excuse. Though, she did have to admit, Ed was right about them owing Granny a visit. They hadn't seen her since… December, maybe? In other words, it had been around at least eight months since they saw her last. And while Winry had tried to call the woman at least once a week, she'd been forgetting to lately, with everything that had happened during the summer. The last time she had spoken with the old woman across the phone was before they had gone to Lior. Winry had bragged about how they finally found a solid lead, and that they might be coming home soon, with their bodies finally fixed. Winry hadn't contacted her since then. Mid July to late August.

Granny was going to have their heads…

"It'll be nice to finally take a trip home," Alphonse said brightly. "And Granny shouldn't be too worried about us. You call her every week, Winry,"

"About that…" The girl started to confess.

"How long?" Al groaned.

"Before Lior," Winry replied, meekly.

Al let out a long sigh. "She's gonna kick our asses. Especially yours, Ed,"

Edward rolled his coat sleeve up, looking at the loose sticks that where once his automail arm. He had beaten it up, broke it apart, with a rock. Because he panicked. Because life for the Elric crew got shitty. Shittier than normal, anyways. But his promis to Alphonse, to live for them, not die for them, was not the only promis he made. No, he promised he would make things right, and he had enough people with him to push him along the way. He had Alphonse and Winry. He had Granny back at home. He had Catherine, who always stayed by Winry's side, no matter the circumstance. He had Mustang and his team, who he kinda sorta did appreciate, even though he would never admit it. He had Riza Hawkeye, who looked out for their safety, health, and emotional well-being the same way a mother would for her kids. And they had Hughes, who practically adopted them, despite the small Elric Crew being a group of broken, messed-up children, who where far from perfect.

Yep, life was pretty shitty. And sure, people where shitty too. But Ed wasn't ready to give up on it all yet. Not when he had all these people waiting for him to achieve his goal.

Ed gave his little brother a smile. "My ass has been kicked so many times, I now have buns of steal! The old fart's gonna stub her toe on it!"

Winry once again threw her wheelchair, this time at the elder Elric brother, for daring to insult her grandmother like that.

And that is it! The last chapter before the shit begins it's going down.

Not like it hadn't already, but you know what I mean. We'll finally meet Dr. Marco, and everything will slowly turn to shit. Needless to say, I'm pretty excited! Soon I'll be tackling a a re-write of my favorite plot with my favorite characters at it's center. Did I mention that I love Ed, Al, and Winry more than life it's self?

Welp, read and review please. I love you all, and wouldn't mind the feedback, or just stating what you like and dislike about the story in general, I will be happy. See you all soon!

~MotherUniverse signing out!