Dedication: To she-who-cannot-be-named. The plagiarism credit here goes to you know who.

Disclaimer:I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist. Also, the word definitions used within the section breaks are from the Webster-Merriam Dictionary. I do not own the words or their definitions either. What a sad life…

This gets pretty dark in patches, so be warned if you have triggers.

Enjoy.

Immutable: not capable of or susceptible to change

As a general rule, Ed didn't lie. In his experience lies often brought about catastrophes that unnecessarily complicated his already messed-up life. But the deception of omission was completely different than lying – or so he told himself.

And it wasn't like he could be charged with treason if anybody discovered he had left a few details out.

Right?

"Fullmetal…?" Mustang quirked an eyebrow. "Was my question too much for your underdeveloped mind to comprehend or did it simply fly over your head?"

"I heard you just fine," Ed snapped. He was treading on thin ice, and he knew it. The first part of the report had been easy. Ed clenched an automail fist around his pocket watch. The strain of metal squealed through his pocket. He clenched his teeth and released the reminder. He had to get through the report without revealing there was more. That meant erasing any traces of stress.

Through the office door, Al giggled at something one of the officers said.

Ed's attention shifted. He needed to finish so he could focus on Al. He could do that much. No way was he letting Al know about the Human Transmutation circle Ed had found in that man's basement.

Or how close Ed had been to seeing Truth again.

"Then would you mind answering…?" Mustang prodded, "Sometime today would be nice."

Ed watched his stomach bloat as he inhaled. Hawkeye's advice from before his report floated through his mind. Keep it short. Keep it simple.

"When I arrived at the suspect's house the door was locked. I entered–"

More like kicked the door down.

"– and found him in the basement."

By the time Ed made it downstairs the alchemist had already begun to activate the large array. Ingredients for a human body rested in a reverent pile at the center.

"There was a human transmutation array in the room, but he hadn't activated it."

The man had panicked at the sight of Ed. The equation halted, aborted, in perhaps the most critical stage of activation. Ed had made it in time.

Barely.

"I told him to give up or I'd throw him in state prison myself."

That much was true, but the original threat had been a bit more…colorful.

"He refused."

Ed could still hear the desperation in the man's voice, the hope and the conviction echoing back in his own young voice from memories long past. It hurt to think of how much he had in common with this wretched idiot.

Well, there was one difference. Ed had made it out alive.

"How did you respond?" Mustang prompted.

"Well, naturally I stopped him," Ed scorched.

Or he would have, if the alchemist hadn't rushed to the center of the array, reactivating the equation and using himself as a sacrifice.

After a moment of silence, Mustang raised his eyebrows expectantly. "And…?"

Ed frowned, "And what? That's it; I stopped him. What did you expect?"

No way had that sounded like a report. Ed's reports consisted of jabs toward Mustang, outbursts, and bragging. This sounded too rehearsed, too calm. Too suspicious.

"…Sir," Ed threw in, knowing it was too late even with the jeering tone. He didn't need Mustang to believe him; he needed Mustang not to question him.

"And what about this damage report I have about the roof caving in?" Mustang waved a blue sheet of paper which Ed was certain was actually the receipt leaflet left over from the bill.

I panicked. Ed shuffled his feet as if to shake them of the sensation that the black shadow hands were still griping his ankles, pulling him into the chaos. He thought fast, "That's how I stopped him."

No lie there.

But he hadn't been fast enough to cut the alchemist off again.

"And the reports about the Philosopher Stone?"

"False."

Lies, reports about Philosopher Stones always ended in lies, but the disappointment in Ed's voice was true enough.

The Colonel had known about the alchemist's wife, how she had died and how only a month after her death the reports of horribly mutated animals began to pop up in Rejo. The suspicion of something greater was in his eyes as he regarded Ed with deep judgment. Did he think Ed was too incapacitated by the last mission to stay on active duty?

Ed waited with no small amount of impatience.

With great deliberation, Mustang reached for his pen and signed off on the written report.

"Finally," Ed muttered and turned to stomp out of the room, intent on sleeping through the rainstorm brewing outside. The train ride back from Rejo hadn't exactly been an easy one. Too many memories came with witnessing someone else make his same mistakes.

"Unfortunately," Mustang called him back, tone practically bleeding contempt, at least in Ed's ears, "That's not all I have for you today."

Ed turned back, eyes promising murder. Yesterday had been hard enough, and he wasn't going to let that beat him down, but he deserved a break.

Mustang held out an assignment. "Similar to the last one, we have a rogue alchemist disturbing the locals."

Except this time it's only property, Ed thought bitterly as he scanned the report. "This is in the city," Ed's scowl deepened. He knew where this was going.

"Very good, Fullmetal. And because of the alchemist's increasing activity, this mission needs to be addressed immediately."

And there it was. Ed practically growled, feeling as though he might breathe fire from his nostrils. "Why can't you do it?" All Mustang ever did was paperwork. He was probably too prissy to get out and do any grunt work.

"Why should I do it when I have you at my disposal?" He smirked.

"You just don't want to admit you're a wet match," Ed returned.

"Shorty."

"You aren't even trying!" Ed exploded, totally, and completely done. Throwing the assignment on the Colonel's desk, Ed stalked to the door, ready to collect Al from the outer office, finish the mission in record time, and crash in the dorms for a week.

Just as he rose his foot to kick the door out of his way, Mustang warned, "Don't let this one go missing."

Oh, snap!

Ed mentally cringed. If his claims about the previous mission were to be trusted he had to explain where the alchemist had gone. And the truth wasn't pretty or consistent with his lie. Rather than concoct a hasty excuse, he turned on his heel and left without a word.

Behind him, Mustang regarded his retreating figure with a dark expression.

… … … …

"Stupid Colonel with his stupid smug face. I hope he gets a hundred paper cuts and Fuery spills his lemonade all over him. I hope he gets demoted so low even the civilians can order him around. I hope he gets caught stealing Hawkeye's chocolate."

"Brother!" Al chided.

Ed sighed. Al was right, the things Hawkeye would do to a person stealing from her chocolate stash were unthinkably gruesome.

"When we finish this I'm not leaving the dorms for a month," Ed dreamed instead. Al gave a conceding hum.

Ed kicked an empty grocery sack away. It clung to him, and he shook his leg to get the clinging paper off his foot.

It had been three hours out in the downpour and not a thing to show for it but boots full of water and a rapidly souring attitude. Al had remained by his side, patient and caring, but even his optimism had dwindled as they had faced the most recent sight of destruction and left with no new information. Well, the crude method indicated an amateur. Technically that was a start, but it certainly wasn't a lead.

"Think maybe somebody's seen him down this street?" Ed groaned, peering down a new block.

Al stopped, hand on Ed's shoulder to keep his still. "Actually, Brother, I was thinking we should take a break for a bit. You're breathing's getting kind of strained, and don't think I haven't heard your automail–"

Ed brushed Al's hand off. "I'm fiiii-eeene," Ed's arm squealed as if in demonstration of Al's comment, and Ed's voice cracked into a breathy whine. It was true, this storm was getting hard to walk in, but with his stumps pressurized so badly, all he really wanted was to curl in on himself. He hadn't been kidding about holing up in the dorm for a year.

"We're going to the drug store," Al insisted.

Ed rubbed his shoulder port, trying to appear nonchalant and failing fantastically. "I don't need pain meds, Al. I just need to get this mission done."

Al gave him a non-expressive look that indicated he wasn't budging on the matter. In strengthening his point, Al pointed down the road. He had led the unsuspecting blond nearly to the doorstep of the shop. "Brother, you haven't been taking care of yourself, and I haven't been able to take care of you for a while now. Please let me at least do this much," he pleaded.

Ed stared up at his little brother. Al's expression didn't budge.

It was true that the last three missions had been explicitly solo missions. Even Ed had agreed about leaving Al in Central. The missions had been high risk and dangerously sensitive, especially that last one. This was the first time in almost a month that they had more than a few hours together.

It was part of their routine to take a day to breathe after a mission. To tune each other up and make sure everything was still relatively okay. But with the rapid succession of missions they hadn't even been allowed that.

Ed knew that Al found it comforting to look after Ed, especially when he needed it. Al had so few comforts now.

Ed's stubborn expression softened. He wouldn't begrudge his brother this small comfort.

Al practically beamed and led them down the lane. Ed let himself be ushered along, boots squelching underfoot. A sense of peace poked through his cold demeanor. There was something about letting Al do what he wanted that was relaxing.

Outside the store, Ed settled under the awning. He refused to enter drug stores just as much as he resisted entering a hospital. The smell of anesthetic and various medicines reminded him of his initial automail surgery.

"I'll be right out," Al assured as though Ed were the one in need of attention.

Ed nodded, "I'll be here." With Al inside, Ed slumped into the brick wall behind him. His burning limbs relaxed into his side and the sopping ground. Well, if he wasn't soaked before, he certainly was now. This had probably been the first moment of complete relaxation he had had since the start of this crazy month.

Why'd he have to come on this mission anyway? What was Mustang's deal? He hadn't done anything to provoke him. No more than usual, that is. So had Mustang just gotten an influx of missions to hand out? Maybe some sort of personal vendetta?

Ed snorted. He wouldn't put it past the Idiot-Colonel to do something so petty.

Ed's head hit the wall, and he sighed. As if by that sound, all the exhaustion began to seep into his muscles, weighing him down. He let the sensation take him. Al wouldn't mind if he dozed off for a minute or two. Maybe he'd catch a cold and be forced to abort the mission to recuperate. And the Colonel would have to let him take sick leave for as long as he needed, and he'd get to sleep under real blankets, not those thin, grey cotton ones. And he'd be able to have an actual hot shower to get the cold out from under his skin. And he'd have a new fluffy pillow that didn't smell like motor oil and dust…

Yeah…

His world had already gone black when the ground underneath him trembled, jerking him awake.

Ed's eyes snapped open. He saw it immediately. Across the street, what could be none other than Ed's target lifted his hands from the road. Cobblestones flew everywhere, and cars tilted up with the disrupted ground. In the spray of rubble, it was miraculous Ed hadn't been hit.

The alchemist canted his head tauntingly as if to say he knew exactly who Ed was. A sharp sneer egged Ed to come forward.

Ed didn't hesitate, scrambling up instantly. The moment he righted himself, the alchemist took off running.

"Come on, Al!" Ed shouted. "We've got him. Let's go!"

Al was still in the drug store by the time Ed entered the first cross-street, but he heard the distant clang of metal clashing down the road behind him. Or maybe that was the sound of his own footfalls in the puddles. No matter which, Ed was confident in his ability to corner and capture. There was only the one alchemist, and Ed was worth at least one and a half alchemists on his own. Besides, he wasn't willing to let him out of sight. Ed was beyond exhausted and well into the realm of apathetic insanity. He needed to catch this guy.

His boots slipped as he skittered over wet cobblestones. As he turned into a dead end alley, he slid to a halt. The alchemist was cornered. Ed crouched low, prepared for an alchemic fight, but the alchemist only tipped his head again and smiled slow, mocking Ed's effort.

No, he was looking at something behind Ed.

A cold puddle of dread pooled in his stomach. Knowing he shouldn't, Ed chanced a peek over his shoulder – just in time to catch the bat with his head.

… … … …

When Ed woke he was shrouded in darkness. His brain throbbed, feeling numb and stuffy. A low groan rose in his throat, and he motioned to cradle his head in his hands to ward off the migraine.

Only…

He couldn't move.

As if by magic, his senses flared to life, and Ed jolted into keen awareness of his situation. His right shoulder down to his fingers was on fire. Metal and tubing were fused to the wall behind him, and he was trapped to the horrible melted mass and the frayed wires in it.

Ed gasped, and he wasn't sure if he had screamed or just couldn't breathe. His head pounded as his vision swam with black tendrils of darkness. Panicked, Ed tried reaching out with his left hand. Chains cut into his wrist, piercing the skin as he pulled desperately.

It was okay. He'd be okay. He'd been in bad situations before and lived. He could get out of this too…Oh. Oh, please, no. He couldn't feel his legs.

He felt what was left in his stomach lurch to the top of his throat.

In the midst of his panic, Ed thought he saw two pairs of boots walk through the opposite wall. No, through a door in the wall. Why did everything have to be so blurry?

One voice called out. "Fullmetal," it said. "The Fullmetal Alchemist…an honor to have…and soon Mustang…"

Ed forced himself to stop and simply breathe. He didn't have the luxury of panicking; he had to focus. Who knew where he was and whether help would come? He lifted his head with the intent of glaring down his captors.

"…and we'll be…and you'll be dead."

Ed didn't hear the rest.

When he woke up next his head was still clouded, but the panic had receded. One of the men, the alchemist, Ed thought, sauntered up to him and crouched low. This time the words didn't blend together as badly, and Ed strained to understand. Information was power, and at the moment with his arm melded to the freaking wall he felt pretty powerless. He had to know why he was there.

"Well, it seems Mustang doesn't care for you after all."

A circle of cold pressed against Ed's chin, and he heard a click.

"I guess I get to do the job for him."

"Go to hell," Ed snarled.

In that moment, the back door blew open. Ed couldn't make out the figures with the alchemist's face blocking the majority of the view. He moved as though he could do something to defend himself, but it only proved how helpless he actually was.

In front of him the alchemist shifted slightly to the side, and Ed was left staring into the eyes of none other than Colonel Roy Mustang.

It was the last thing Ed saw before Mustang's bullet penetrated his skull.

… … … …

White.

Ed knew it was there even with his eyes closed. That meant he was…

Oh. Oh please no.

"Welcome back, Mr. Al-che-mist."

Truth's Cheshire grin impaled Ed's eyes with its intensity. For a moment it was all he could see, but then he blinked and the amused smirk had backed off to reveal the dismembered outline of Truth. Without a word, Ed turned a full circle; if he was here then so was the Gate. It hung in space directly behind him, the doors blown wide open but without the clawing shadow hands and eyes that haunted his nightmares. The door was simply open as if it led nowhere at all.

Ed turned a horrified stare on Truth. "I'm here."

Truth's smile cracked the laws of possibility.

And then it hit. "I'm dead."

The reality of it struck him with such force he staggered back a step.

Al.

"No. Nononono," Ed moaned. "I can't be dead. Al needs me. I still haven't gotten his body back!" His voice rose in pitch as panic kicked in. "This isn't right. This can't be true. I didn't die. I'm not dead. I can't be. I can't!" Truth stared him down with a blunt, unreadable expression. The hellfires of hysteria receded at the sight as though Truth meant nothing to him if it were not there to take or to give, but merely to act as gatekeeper for living and dead. And if he was dead then his purpose to continue fighting was gone. The fire in Ed's eyes dimmed as the final realization slapped him hard. "Al…He's alone."

The thought of Alphonse hurt worse than the understanding that they might never see each other again. He could see Al by himself, hunched into a giant metal ball in the corner of their dorm room, waiting for Ed to never come back. Al, unable to live normally or beside anyone who truly knew and understood his secret. The images flipped through his mind like a personal purgatory, but they all stopped on the startling frame of Mustang's eyes.

Mustang had killed him.

All logic fled as Ed envisioned the Colonel approaching his sweet, innocent baby brother, informing him that the Fullmetal Alchemist was dead. Al would cry, or try to.

Would the jerk be happy? Ed could only see the hardened, empty eyes of a soldier staring him down as the bullet entered his skull. No twinge of regret crossed Mustang's expression, not even the faintest hesitation.

Had Mustang set this all up? The fluidness of the kidnapper's movements in response to the Colonel's sudden appearance seemed to indicate it. But why?

The flickering fear in the pit of Ed's heart grew as he fed it with doubts about the true meaning of his death. Had Ed fulfilled his usefulness, and Mustang wanted to eliminate him in private? Simply revealing that Ed had performed Human Transmutation would tarnish the Colonel's immaculate record. So was this his plan from the start, to eliminate Ed when his popularity as Fullmetal Alchemist stopped serving Mustang's purposes?

It was a false mission to cover up his death, and Mustang had been there to kill Ed himself.

Was it fair for Ed to feel a dagger of betrayal at the thought? This was all assuming the worst about the Colonel. But then, Ed was dead. None of it mattered now.

Except, if it was true…

Ed would go through hell to protect his little brother, and that involved protecting him from backstabbing superior officers.

A fireball of courage built within him. Ed glared at the full-toothed smile across from him. "What happens now?" he demanded."'Cause I'm not letting that worthless dog near my brother, and not even you can stop me!" The shout was swallowed in the blankness around them.

The bravado from a moment earlier remained even as Truth rose to a stand. If Ed wasn't so terrified of Truth's omniscience, he might have applauded himself for refusing to let go of his resolve to protect Al even in the face of murdering superiors and the equivalent of god.

"Roy Mustang killed you," Truth strode up to Ed, "But you aren't dead."

"Huh?"

Truth gestured to the door and abruptly they switched places, disorienting Ed to add to his confusion. "My door is wide open. You're free to go."

"What?" Ed stared as the familiar shadow hands reappeared from within the Gate and reached out to tear him away atom by atom.

From behind, Truth leaned next to Ed's ear and taunted, "Again."

-Dante