Here it is. The final installment of TBAS. 4 years of work/hiatuses seeing an end at last. I have had an absolute blast creating this baby and meeting all of you guys through it. This story has helped me grow as a writer, and your comments have, too- and if you go back to the first several chapters, that's pretty evident, haha!

On that note, I want to let y'all know that I will be rewriting several of the first chapters, because they make me cringe. So for those who like rereading the story, there will be that to look forward to. I don't know exactly when these edits will be made, though.
Lastly, I wanted to give a humongous thank you to everyone who reviewed/commented, favorited, kudo'd, bookmarked, or recommended! Without you guys, I doubt I would've had it in me coming back to this story time and time again- you and your kind words are what inspire me to continue writing.
Thank you!

Epilogue

Nursing wounded pride came in many forms. For some it was drowning the sorrow in a bottle. For others, it was curling into a corner and weeping the shame away. Maybe it was getting angry and taking it out on everyone around them. For Envy, it was outwardly carrying on like nothing had happened while inside he stewed on his bitterness and rage.

On the outside he was the same, because his pride was never something completely intact- clever as he was, there was always Pride, or Lust, or Greed, or Wrath to knock him down and remind him he was just ugly little Envy. Wounded pride was just another part of who he was. He should've been used to it, honestly- maybe on some level he was, but that didn't stop him from inwardly screaming and tearing at his insides.

Maybe if he'd just messed up in Drachma and come home and nobody had acknowledged what he'd done, it would've been fine, but of course things never went like that, and he'd had to listen to Lust and Wrath (Wrath! Of all people!) rip him apart. He'd only been trying to help Father's plan along- The general area of Briggs had been on the map for a blood crest still, so he'd been trying to mark it off. Even if it hadn't completely failed, it had still drawn plenty of unwanted attention, apparently.

Lust's voice still rang in his head, languide and tight all at once as her frustration with him bled into her words. "You're lucky Wrath figured out a way to cover for you and keep your identity safe. You could've wrecked so much, Envy. Father wants you to know that he's disappointed with you."

Of course Father was disappointed with him! He'd figured he would be- it wasn't even that that bothered him. It was the fact that his youngest sibling had managed to outsmart him. It didn't matter that it benefited him in the long run, to have his Ford persona available to use still, because the fact that Wrath had fixed his mistakes grated.

It didn't help that none of his siblings had asked him how he was doing after the whole thing. Even Gluttony got a "how did it go" when he got back from hunts. Having Lust there to ridicule instead of greet him had sucked. It had sort of felt like getting shot, which he'd know plenty about since he'd been shot not once, but twice in the space of a few minutes when he'd been on the battlefield- and after he'd taken a stupid Drachman's form and shot Maksim to save the Colonel and Pipsqueak too. Those ungrateful worms.

The entire ordeal left him tense with frustrated energy that he couldn't hope to release without being scolded for his childish attitude- even if Pride wasn't around to judge him, the lifelong impression he'd left behind in his mind would.

The worst part wasn't even the failure, though, it was the realization that he probably wouldn't be trusted with any big future missions for a little while. Father wasn't going to keep him out of the final movement, but that didn't mean he'd be allowed to go out and have fun until that time came. He'd already been saddled with watching Doctor Marcoh, and the idea of being cooped up in Central with nothing to do but antagonize him and report little things he picked up from people like Sheska for at least another six months made him shudder.

At least he could content himself with the fact that even if he was on probation, he hadn't messed up the progression of the plan.

While he brooded, the last thing he expected was to be interrupted by the familiar clacking of his sister's heels against the stone floor. It had only been a day since he'd reported Mustang's digging into the Hughes murder case and tentative given the idea to distract the Colonel with Ross- something he didn't even know if they'd decided to go with. He would've have blamed his siblings for not listening to his plans so soon, even if he could see that it was a good one.

Lust emerged from the dark of the hall and raised a brow at him as he finally stopped pacing from his perch on one of the thicker pipes running close to the ceiling.

"Are you done pouting, or should I leave you?"

She was teasing, he knew, and Envy sighed heavily before leaning back to hang upside down from the pipe by his knees. He decided to humor her because he was bored, but that didn't stop him from sneering back at her.

"What do you want, hag?"

"I'm going to be gone for a little bit. The Flame Colonel took the bait, but Number 66 has resurfaced, so I have to deal with that."

She sounded a little more than disgusted with the idea of being stuck with grunt work and clean up, but Envy knew that the prospect of finally doing that armored lunatic in brought her some level of pleasure. He didn't miss the mention of Mustang taking the bait either, but he decided not to seem too eager to jump onto the fact that his siblings had seen the genius of his plan and gone with it. Instead, he decided to ask the more obvious question that was at the forefront of his mind.

"Why should I care?"

"You shouldn't," Lust responded cooly. "Before I went out, I just wanted to let you know about a little deal I made with Doctor Marcoh..."

The muggy air of Central's station hit him full in the face and Edward took a deep breath, embracing the familiar industrial smell as he stepped off the platform and onto more solid ground. Winry stretched beside him while soft clanging at his side told him Alphonse had joined them, and even the distressed interrogation for the whereabouts of their dumbass prince by their Xingese tag-alongs couldn't put a damper on his mood. Tired as he was, he was glad to be back. After everything that had gone down in Dublith add Rush Valley, it was nice to be in a place where he could be sure nobody was going to attack he or Alphonse for no reason- as far as he knew, Scar still hadn't resurfaced.

He would've loved to head to their place and get a nap in before doing anything else, but he needed to talk to Mustang while things were still fresh in his mind. It wasn't every day that they ran into another Homunculus, after all. He was sure the Colonel would want to know about it. Plus, if there was any chance that learning more about those guys could get he and Al anywhere closer to getting their bodies back, he was all for making haste.

Halfway through town, Winry stopped them and decided to go check in on Mrs. Hughes and Elicia, just to let them know they were being thought of. They'd all silently agreed to make a habit of seeing them whenever they could make time to after talking with her about Hughes. The military-issued shrink had told him it was a good idea, too. Something about closure or coping or something like that- he'd only been half paying attention that day. He and Al shot her a quick goodbye with the promise to meet up with her once they'd finished with the Colonel, and continued on. He did his best to tune out the increasingly panicked cries of Prince's bodyguards and not let them got on his nerves too badly. He didn't know why they were still following him, since Ling clearly wasn't nearby, but whatever.

Although, eventually all the noise blurred together while he let his thoughts wander. He had a general idea of what he'd need to go over with Mustang, the main points being what they'd learned during their brief interaction with 'Greed' and the existence of Chimeras. Mostly, he was interested on what the Colonel would make of yet another created human crossing paths with the military so soon after Drachma- and why the Fuhrer had insisted on killing him instead of finding out what he knew… and then threatening him and Alphonse. The memory left an unpleasant weight in his gut and Edward shoved it away, because obviously the Fuhrer… hadn't been serious about that...

He was still going to tell Roy about it.

Maybe if Mustang asked he'd also tell him about some of the more mundane going-ons from the past couple of weeks, like seeing their teacher again, and meeting Ling, and… well, actually there wasn't much else randomly interesting to discuss. At least he'd still have more to say than Mustang would. After all, it wasn't like the man had a life outside of work.

But, the first order of business would be giving him the information about Greed. They'd made a point of making all Homunculi related business a top priority, because there was something about those guys that made their skin crawl. And there had to be a reason he and Alphonse kept running into them every time the tried conducting any research into anything mildly important.

He still had that in mind when they walked through the halls of the main building. One of the receptionists had mentioned Mustang being stationed on the second floor, so he dragged Alphonse towards the elevator, intent on getting in and out of there as fast as possible so he could turn in for a couple of hours.

They never made it, though, because on the way to the transport, a familiar red and black flashed in the corner of his eye and stopped him dead in his tracks.

No. there was no way.

"Brother? What is it?"

Alphonse's voice filtered distantly through his ears. Another glance over his shoulder would put his mind at ease, he knew that, but for the moment he found he couldn't move. Because if that had indeed been a Drachman uniform he'd seen, he didn't know what he'd do. He reasoned that there wouldn't be anything to do, because if there was a Drachman in Central, standing in the hallway of a military building for anyone to come across, then clearly they were supposed to be there. But the thought of it still sent a small tremor down his spine, because what would stop the soldier from attacking him if he wanted to? Sure, he could probably keep him off and away pretty easily, but that didn't change the fact that there was a possibility of something like that happening. Bile built up in the back of his throat and he swallowed hard in an attempt to not make a complete idiot of himself in front of his brother.

His brother.

Right, Al was right there, standing right next to him. Nobody would try anything with him there- as imposing a figure he appeared to anyone who didn't know him. That, and there was no way he would let anyone get close to them when his little brother could get caught up in the fray. With that thought in mind, Edward found taking a deep breath to calm himself wasn't nearly as difficult.

"Brother?"

"Yeah," he answered, giving Al's chestplate a small tap with his knuckles, "I'm good. Just wanna check on something real quick."

He already knew his eyes hadn't deceived, so when he turned back around the corner and saw the soldier's uniform he wasn't all that shocked. Though, given the small gasp at his side, Al was. Edward wasn't too concerned, because the longer he stared at the man, the sooner he realized the guy wasn't armed, nor was he a real threat in any other capacity- judging from the emblem on his shoulder and what little he remembered about Drachman uniform, he was a diplomatic guard. In addition to that fact, there were two Amestrian soldiers on either side of him. More guards.

And it looked like they were guarding a door. If he remembered anything about the building's layout, then it was the door to one of the conference rooms.

Diplomat guard. Amestrian guards. Conference room. Interesting.

Without giving himself time to think about whether or not it was a good idea, Edward marched up to the first guard, a tall woman he could vaguely remember seeing around the base, and asked her what the hell was going on. He could feel the others' eyes on him but he refused to look the Drachman's way. He was doing alright so far and he wanted to keep it that way.

"A meeting," she said curtly.

"And..?" Edward narrowed his eyes and turned his finger in the air impatiently, because there had to be more to that answer.

"Who are you?"

Edward groaned and his hand instinctively went into his pocket to fish his watch out. He'd forgotten that the Central branch wasn't used to his presence and lack of uniform, and the fact that the majority of them probably knew the Fullmetal Alchemist, but not what he looked like. The guard's hand strayed to her gun and Edward flinched momentarily while whipping his proof of rank out to show her.

Her eyes widened immediately and she released hold of her weapon. "Major, sir. I apologize."

"Nah, it's cool," he waved her off and then looked at the door behind her. "So, what's up with this meeting?"

"From what I've gathered, the Drachmans have sent an official to discuss the return of Brigadier General Volkov to their custody, as well as a potential peace treaty. That's all I know, sir."

Edward held onto a snort at the idea that there would be any peace between their people after what the Drachmans pulled. He really wanted to see how that was all being handled, because if there was anything that would help lift his mood, it would be watching their higher ranking officers verbally destroy whatever poor sap had been sent to retrieve Black.

"Can I go in?"

"You cannot."

"Huh? Why n-"

"The meeting has been going on for some time now. I'm sure they'll be finished soon."

"Aw c'mon," he complained, "not even a little peak?"

"Sir." - "Brother."

Alphonse's hand on his shoulder had him sighing heavily and moving back to lean against the wall beside the woman.

"Fine, fine."

Alphonse snorted at his side and Ed caught him shaking his head in the corner of his eye. If he'd picked up on the change in his mood, he'd given no indication of it, and Edward couldn't help but be a little pleased with himself. If he'd managed to keep calm enough around a Drachman that Alphonse wasn't outwardly worrying over him, it meant he'd made some progress since coming home.

However, that didn't mean he'd made progress on the 'being patient' front, and before even a few minutes could pass, he was getting restless again. The wait was taking too long, with every second ticking by creating an even more unbearable silence. He supposed he could strike up conversation with one of the soldiers again, or talk to Al about where he thought Ling had run off to (even if he really didn't care), but that would've done nothing to quell his urge to run past the guards and into the meeting.

He probably should've been leaving the entire thing alone and going to see Mustang as planned, but he had to know what would be happening with the Drachmans. He needed to know.

An idea struck him then and Edward smirked to himself before shifting to the other side of Alphonse so his brother's body was blocking the soldiers' views of him. Al hummed in question and he shushed him softly before putting his hands to the wall and transmuting a hole. It was no bigger than 25 cens piece- just enough for sound to filter through when he put his ear to it.

"Brother, they said to wait." Alphonse's quiet admonish had him rolling his eyes.

"Relax, Al, it's not like I wouldn't find out about it later."

The only response he received was in the form of a resigned sigh and he nodded to himself before putting his head back against the wall to catch what sounded like the tail end of a statement from the Fuhrer.

"... I think to a certain extent that that's fair."

Ah, he wanted to know exactly what was 'fair,' and he cursed himself for not thinking to listen in sooner, but he supposed it couldn't be helped now. Maybe he could get someone to tell him later… yeah probably not.

He didn't have to wait nearly as long as he thought he would to get some context, at least, because the next voice entering the fray cleared some things up. Although the fact that it was Mustang speaking did little for the confusion whirling around his brain. What the hell was the Colonel doing in a diplomatic meeting? He hadn't been moved to a higher rank with his transfer to Central, as far as he was aware- and he would've been, because Mustang would've bragged about it.

"With all due respect, Brigadier General Volkov is, and was not, a political party. He is a prisoner of war, so we have every legal right to keep him detained as long as we deem necessary."

"While I do understand the validity of your point, Colonel, I feel it necessary to point something out."

Edward wasn't sure when exactly his heart started beating wildly in his chest or when his mouth dried out, but he did know it had everything to do with the entrance of the new voice. He tried to peek inside, but all he could see through the small opening was the blue of an Amestrian uniform. The speaker wasn't visible. But he knew he'd heard correctly. He couldn't forget that voice even if he wanted to.

But it made zero sense to him why Void would be there. He hadn't even known Void had survived- since when was he a Drachman diplomat?

He knew his reaction had to be visible, because Al settled a hand on his shoulder, clearcut concern in his eyes. Edward didn't think he could've responded if he wanted to at that point, because his throat was too dry, and if he hadn't been paying rapt attention to the conversation before, he certainly was now. That voice was still talking, calm and collected, and he wasn't about to miss anything he said.

"Our country is trying to establish a relative peace to right the wrongs of that senseless war, and all we ask is a show of good faith. Our leaders have willingly signed the treaty, and are ready to abide by the rules written out, so long as Brigadier General Volkov is returned to us."

Edward didn't think he'd ever heard Void sound so eloquent or… cordial. Granted, he had been subjected to his interrogation voice, so he really should've known he would sound a lot nicer and put together around officials, but it still gave him whiplash to hear. What was even more surprising though, was hearing the pitch of desperation in his tone- probably easy for someone to miss if they hadn't gotten used to picking up the subtle changes in his tone. It make him wonder what it was about Black that was so special to him and his military. He seemed pretty determined to get him back- it sounded like Black had been the topic of conversation for quite some time, judging by the exasperation in Mustang's tone earlier.

At least Void seemed to have put everyone on the track to wrap the meeting up, because the next person to speak was the Fuhrer, who agreed to look over the aforementioned documents and get back to Ambassador (Ambassador? Since when?) Maksim by tomorrow evening at the latest.

"In the meantime, please enjoy your stay. I have set you up in an Inn not far from here. Your escorts will take you there."

"Thank you, Fuhrer Bradley, your hospitality is greatly appreciated."

The sound of chairs scraping signalled to him that the meeting was over and everyone was fixing to leave. Edward jerked away from the wall and quickly patched up his hole, backing away as casually as he could as he did so. Now that he had a general idea of what the meeting had been about, and knew that he could get more information out of Mustang about it later, he wasn't too keen on getting caught up in the awkward hallway mingling.

"C'mon, Al, let's get outta heee- hey, Lieutenant Hawkeye, how's it going?"

"Hello boys," Hawkeye greeted easily, adjusting some of the paperwork in her arms after Edward had almost run into her, "what are you doing back so soon? Did your Dublith trip turn out alright?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, fine." The sound of the door opening behind them momentarily distracted him. "Hey, what's the Colonel doing in there?"

"Since he had firsthand experience with Volkov and their military personnel, the Fuhrer thought it would be helpful if he were present to offer his insight." She frowned at where people were beginning to emerge from the doorway. "I'm not sure why exactly it's needed, though. I thought the Ambassador's reasons for being here would be fairly straightforward…"

Edward turned his attention to where she was looking and caught sight of Mustang's hair amidst the crowd. He would've called out to him if he didn't also see Void trailing closely behind him. The last thing he wanted was to bring attention to himself when the Drachman was still around. Maybe Al unconsciously thought along the same lines, because Edward would've been blind to miss the way his little brother stood closer to him. Hawkeye also seemed to have floated closer into his personal space- though her movements seemed to hold a lot more deliberate weight to them.

As life would have it though, he didn't go unnoticed, and when Mustang caught sight of him, he shouldered roughly past Void and came to his side. He heard him asking what he was doing back in Central so soon, but Edward couldn't make himself answer when Void's eyes passed over him and a frown overtook his face. Edward could've sworn the air in the room froze. He certainly did. He wasn't even sure what kind of frozen he was. He didn't feel scared -not completely- but he also wasn't angry or anything else like that. If anything it was more a feeling of shock… or of not knowing how to feel.

He'd never expected to see Void again- he'd wondered if he'd even managed to survive after being shot. Edward would've been lying to himself if he hadn't been curious to know if he'd lived or not. But… having confirmation that he was fine, and seeing the Drachman face-to-face in a non-violent or life threatening situation were not the same thing, and the latter was not something he'd ever been expecting to need to prepare himself for. He didn't know how he was supposed to react, seeing his face less haggard and pale than before, while he was dressed to the nines and looking far more noble than his past deeds.

Everyone was staring at him, though, like he should know how he felt. Like he should be reacting somehow. Edward knew he probably should've at least been doing more than having a silent staring contest with the man while the rest of the meeting's party filtered off to continue on with their days.

He didn't know what to expect from Void in that long moment, but for him to soften his gaze and offer the barest of smiles was definitely not in his mind for realm of possibilities. Somehow, though, the expression was foreign enough to make Void not look so much like… himself. It was weird, and not altogether a wholly comfortable fact to notice, but it helped him to relax. It helped him to focus on the fact that even if his presence wasn't completely welcome in his mind, he was a little glad for it- because he could see he was still alive. Being able to put to rest the turmoil he'd felt, and had continue to feel, over leaving the man behind to die was a welcome change.

So when Void- or perhaps he should start thinking of him as Maksim now (that's what the shrink would've encouraged him to do, anyway)- inclined his head deeply towards him, Edward nodded in acknowledgement.

There wasn't much else to do or say after that, because even if he felt relieved to see him alive and kicking, there was still a larger part of him that was wary of the man's presence. The last thing he wanted was to strike up conversation. And if the way Maksim was looking at him was any indication, he felt the same.

With that thought in mind, Edward turned on his heel, ignoring the looks the adults were giving him and the small inquiry from his brother asking if he was alright. Instead he just waved the Colonel over.

"C'mon, we've got stuff to talk about."

He didn't feel the need to reassure anyone at the moment, because it wasn't needed. The air around him didn't feel tense, and he knew the others would pick up on it in a moment if they hadn't already, because… he was fine. There was no small amount of surprise inside when he realized that. He'd seen two Drachmen, one of which who'd done the most damage to his head, and he hadn't panicked, or frozen up, or run away. He'd looked Maksim in the eyes… and he felt fine. Maybe not great, but not bad either. It made him grin to himself as he made his way up to the office with the others, because it meant that somewhere along the way, through reluctant meetings and being back in familiar places, he'd made progress.

However, as they entered the outer room where the rest of the team was working -minus Falman, which was weird-, Edward noticed the same couldn't be said for Mustang. He looked like shit. At the very least he hadn't been sleeping well, and at the very worst, he'd been getting bad. Edward knew he wouldn't have to ask if he'd started seeing someone to deal with… well, everything- Drachma, Ford… Hughes. The answer was obvious, even to someone who didn't know him.

Part of Edward wanted to pester him about that, because Mustang had "highly encouraged" him to go to the shrink, even after he'd been tentatively cleared to go back into the field, but hadn't bothered to see one himself? Maybe Drachma hadn't bothered Mustang as much, but Edward knew if Hughes' death had messed him up, there was no way it hadn't been tearing the Colonel up inside.

He never got the chance to call him out on that, though, because he was grumbling while taking a seat at his desk in the inner office. "Can't believe the nerve of that bastard. Coming over here and demanding Volkov."

Edward took a seat next to Alphonse in the couch and his brother piped up. "Colonel, what was the meeting about?"

Mustang sighed heavily and Edward wondered if the bags under his eyes were as noticeable to anyone else, or if he was just hyper aware of the changes in the Colonel's appearance. "Apparently, since we've been able to patch the hole in Briggs' defenses with the help of their Brigadier General, they think we should return him because we have no other use for him."

"What about the peace treaty?" Edward dropped his head on the back of sofa and only realized he shouldn't have known about that when Mustang snorted.

"Listening in on things that are above your rank again, huh, Fullmetal?"

"S'not like anyone else was gonna tell me," he defended lazily. He knew Mustang didn't actually care if he broke rules- not when he did too, on a regular basis.

"Fair enough," he conceded before moving to answer his question, "The treaty is simple and straightforward- give Volkov back and it'll be valid. From what I gathered, it's pretty similar to the last one, if not the same one with an updated timestamp. But the Fuhrer still wants to look over it to make sure no major changes were made."

"Who was the man they sent?"

Alphonse's question made Mustang's face pull into a scowl and he glared darkly at his mountain of paperwork. Edward sighed inwardly, because he really hadn't been wanting to let his brother in on the fact that the guy who'd smiled and respectfully given him the equivalent of a "hey, good to see you" gesture (a gesture he'd returned), had been none other than his torturer. Mustang apparently didn't get that memo, though, because he was already answering.

"Maksim. That bastard- we're supposed to believe he's an ambassador, but he was one of the people who detained us to begin with."

"Oh." Al somehow picked up on everything that went unsaid there, because his voice got a lot softer and the way he held himself was a good deal more upset than it had been a moment ago. His hand settled on his shoulder a second later, a show of sympathy or a protective gesture Edward didn't know. Edward sighed aloud then and turned his head to narrow his eyes at the Colonel, because didn't he know when not to talk? He did remember that Al was only fourteen, right?

"But wait," Alphonse went on, unaware of his annoyance or ignoring it, "Aren't Ambassador's not allowed to… do that sort of thing?"

"Non-combatants aren't sent onto the battlefield," Mustang confirmed, and for the first time since entering the room, Edward was interested in what he was saying. He lifted his head and tilted his head.

"Yeah, but he was a Major when he had us. They called him 'Major Maksim.' So maybe he got promoted?"

"Lost his prisoners, failed to protect his commanding officer, and got shot?" Mustang snorted derisively, "Nobody gets promoted for that."

Edward frowned. That didn't make sense then, that Maksim would've been there at that time. Unless Ford had somehow had something to do with it? Edward found that easier to believe than he thought, because Envy had been behind the attack plan- at least that was what he'd gathered from watching the interactions between he and Black, as well as listening to the Homunculus rant here and there. Why he'd had an Ambassador take the helm of torturer… that he had not clue, but he supposed it didn't really matter. Either way it had happened. What point in there was dwelling on it when there was no way for any of them to know his reasoning behind what he did?

"My best guess is he volunteered." Even as he said it, Edward knew Mustang wasn't being serious, but that didn't stop him from defending the Drachman. After all, he'd heard him apologize for the things he'd done- nobody did that unless that hadn't wanted to be part of the plan in the first place. And it wasn't like Edward had to forgive him to see the truth in that.

"Let it go. He was just doing his job. Same as you were doing yours."

It was weird hearing himself say those words when he'd gotten irritated by them not two weeks ago. But he understood them a bit better now that he had perspective on board, and he couldn't say they weren't right. Letting it go didn't lessen the pain of what Maksim had done, and it certainly didn't justify it, but it helped to put a damper on making it personal. Edward liked to think that one day he'd completely believe it, too.

For now, he was just glad it made Mustang stop his ranting. Only now he was being stared at like he'd grown a second head. Mustang scoffed just loudly enough that he caught it and Edward huffed.

"What?"

"Nothing," Mustang shook his head and had a look on his face that was caught between disbelief and something else. "That's just the most mature thing I've ever heard you say."

Edward thought about telling him that the words weren't his, but he liked the idea of letting the Colonel thing he'd become smarter and wiser in the last month. Plus, the opportunity to throw in some teasing was just too good to pass up.

"Part of the job description, apparently." He shrugged. "Just wait. Eventually I'll get old and start sounding like you."

"Are you saying I'm old?"

Edward smirked. "You said it, not me."

"Fullmetal."

There was no real fire to his voice but Edward still put his hands up with a small chuckle. "Fine, fine, you get what I mean."

"Brat." Mustang rolled his eyes in what Edward had decided was a fond mannerism. A moment of relaxed silence passed before the Colonel cleared his throat and reminded them of the reason they'd stopped by. "What did you learn in Dublith."

The chance to start a conversation on a lighter topic was a welcome one that both he and Alphonse jumped at, launching into a recounting of their travels. They glossed over meeting Ling and Paninya, and Winry's apprenticeship, because they weren't all that relevant to the military, but the bit with Greed certainly caught Mustang's attention.

"Another Homunculus?"

"Mhm," Alphonse confirmed, "and Chimeras."

"That's insane," Mustang mumbled, running a hand through his already unruly hair.

Edward had to agree. That and getting Alphonse back had been the main things on his mind that day. Honestly, what was it about them that attracted the Homunculi? In less than three months they'd managed to run into several of them and narrowly avoided death or maiming each time. There had to be a connection there, and he wanted to know what it was.

The other reason he'd decided to see Mustang before anyone else came back to mind then. He had a plan and needed to get him on board with it. He didn't think it would take much convincing, but he still thought it best to ease into it.

"Hey, have you learned anything more about what happened to Ford?"

"I have, actually." Mustang's expression immediately darkened in a way that wasn't at all encouraging to him. "He's here."

Edward's "The hell?" was drowned out by his brother's shrill,"What?" and he almost forgot that he'd told Al about the Amestrian-turned-Homunculus.

"According the to Fuhrer, he was doing his job. We all know this is complete bullshit, but we're supposed to believe he was a spy the whole time- that he was the reason Olivier was ready to send troops out at such short notice."

"That's crap! He's a Homunculus!" Edward jumped to his feet and kicked the leg of the coffee table. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. They were really supposed to believe that? There was no way it was true… but that only brought the Fuhrer into question then, because why was he covering for Ford? Were the Homunculus somehow controlling their leader?

"This is getting complicated." Alphonse said gravely and Edward was glad he'd given voice to the questions beating at his own skull.

"Yeah," Mustang sighed, "but I think I see what Hughes was trying to say, now."

"Huh?" Edward stopped his pacing to stare at the Colonel. Hughes had said something to him before he died? That was news to him.

"I thought he'd been saying the Military was in trouble. But now… now I'm thinking he was saying the trouble was coming from inside the military."

"You don't think the Fuhrer's in on this, do you?" Edward already had a sick feeling in his stomach that told him he was, but he wanted to know if Mustang was as worried about that as he was.

"I'm not sure," was his unhelpful response. However, his follow up was more interesting anyway. "But I think it's time we started getting some answers."

He wholeheartedly agreed with that sentiment, but how they expected to do that, Edward hadn't a clue yet. How did you find answers when you didn't even know what the right questions were? Apparently Mustang was the one who was a step ahead of them for once though, because he was getting up from his chair and digging through some papers.

"I didn't say so earlier, but I'm actually glad you two made it back today. This will all be a lot more convincing with you here."

"What will?" Al's voice contained a frown and Edward found himself unconsciously mirroring him.

"We have a problem." Mustang found what he was looking for and handed a picture over. Edward took it and his frown deepened in confusion.

"Maria Ross? What about her?"

"She's been arrested for Hughes' murder-"

His eyes widened and he clutched tighter to the picture. "That's crazy! She didn't. There's no way."

There was no way that had been her, and he had to convince Mustang of that, because if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that he would kill whoever had murdered Hughes. He couldn't let him do that, not to her.

"I know." Mustang rolled his eyes and the worry in Edward's gut pulled back a little. "We have a plan to free her and lure some of our friends out. You two being here will help make everything believable. I'm assuming you'll want in?"

Edward had a ton of questions buzzing around his head, all of which begged the answer of what exactly had happened while they'd been gone, but the air in the room had shifted to one of urgency and he got the feeling he'd have time to ask later. For now, the most important thing was getting to the Homunculi and saving Ross.

A glanced at Al out of habit and caught him nodding, so he grinned at Roy while stuffing the woman's picture into his pocket. "Let's do this."

For the next hour they poured over the plan and the finer details of it. Hawkeye and Havoc had joined them at some point, offering information when the Colonel left it out or only glossed over it. The whole thing was pretty gruesome, and required a lot of risky stuff, but if they could pull it off, Edward got the feeling a lot of things would fall into place. He wasn't sure how exactly the whole thing was meant to draw out the Homunculi, but he trusted Roy's judgement. If he thought it would draw the enemy out, he was willing to try anything.

They would have enough back up that they'd left the job of making sure Ross made it to safety to him. Edward wasn't sure why Roy insisted it be him- and, apparently, Armstrong- but if it meant he'd get a chance to see the woman before she was gone completely, he'd do it. He'd grown to like her a lot somewhere along the way. The small smile Roy sent him when he'd agreed to his part in the plan certainly made him feel better about the whole thing.

He just hoped that everything played out the way they planned for it to. He knew how quickly plans could go wrong, but with so many people in on the thing to ensure its success, he felt like the odds were better at the very least. It could work. And if it did… then maybe they could find out more about the Homunculi and their reasons for wanting to start a war with Drachma. Maybe they'd be able to figure out just how deep their involvement with the military went.

If nothing else, he was glad to be working alongside Mustang and the others. He couldn't help but wonder what it would've been like if they'd left him and Al out of the loop- if things still would've played out similarly. He got the feeling they would've, since Mustang had been making the plan to work even if they hadn't been around, and that made him feel happier somehow. A little amused to, because the Colonel from three months ago wouldn't have told him about the plan. That Mustang would've kept him in the dark and let him be angry and hurt when he had no reason to be. But he'd learned- Drachma had taught him to trust him. It had taught both of them that.

Edward decided that if there was nothing else he could take from that month of hell, he could at least have that- the strengthened bond between himself and Roy. Despite the scars the experience had left them both with, there had been something to take from the whole thing that wasn't horrible: They were on the same page.

Where Edward had originally felt like an outsider on the team, he now felt like he was a cog in their machine- he was finally part of them instead of having to content himself with watching from afar. It was nice, that sense of belonging. It felt similar to when he was in Resembool with Winry and Al. It felt a lot like home.

aaaaand the story is back on track with canon more or less, because I couldn't not do that- seriously, it was bugging the crap out of me, veering so far off track. Anyway! I hope y'all enjoyed it as much as I have. It's been a long ride, with many tears, but we did it! TBAS is DONE! Pleaseplease leave a review/comment letting me know what you thought- or if you want a private place to scream at me, hit me up on my tumblr ( ). Another HUGE thank you for the road, because seriously, 4 years of sticking with it… you guys are amazing! And to any future readers: Thank you so much for supporting my self-indulgent writing!