Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Balance of Power ❯ Okay, Who Forgot the Flux Capacitor? ( Chapter 31 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Crackbunny Syndrome
"I'm going to miss your brand of insanity, you know," Ed murmured as he gripped Ducky's shoulder.

Anime/Manga: Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction | Genre(s): / Horror / Drama / Comedy / Adventure / Action | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 01.29.2009 | Pages: 14 | Words: 21.2K | Visits: 488 | Status: Work In Progress

"Okay, Who Forgot the Flux Capacitor?"
Arc One: Chapter 31
Balance of Power
 
WARNING: Post Series, Post Movie, **SPOILER HEAVY** and just a bit AU
 





September 5, 1919
Rush Valley, Amestris

Roy paced back and forth behind Armstrong, trying not to wiggle the fingers of his right hand, trying to save whatever strength he had in that arm for the moment when he'd really need it. He felt that he should be doing something to prepare himself, but really, the greatest preparation was the transmutation circle itself, and Armstrong had that well in hand.

Several flares glowed softly in the air above the array, so Armstrong could clearly see both the original rendering and his own efforts. They required only a fraction of the Flame Alchemist's attention to keep going. He would snuff them out when the work was done.

The true epicenter of the last earthquake had been about half a block west of here, with the corresponding collapsed walls and cracks in the ground to show for it. He was sure that this alley was close enough. The connection to the portal in the other world would be strong enough to allow the Gate to open. There were some worrisome cracks in the walls surrounding the alley, but Armstrong had examined them and said the walls were sound enough. So unless something dreadful happened inside the Gate itself -- again, they should be safe here as well as unnoticed -- for as long as it took to accomplish what he needed to.

There was still time, he was sure of it -- though not much. Whatever it was that connected him to the Elric brothers, it didn't provide him any details about their situation, so he couldn't be sure how ready they were to make the attempt from their side. Yet somehow he knew that they were close. Not this moment -- but soon. He would be ready.

He walked toward the far end of the alley for a moment, then stopped and looked at Riza Hawkeye, standing still and silent in the center of the opening, unobtrusively keeping watch as always. She didn't turn, not even slightly, though his footsteps set off a faint echo between the buildings on either side. She waited, arms at her sides, back straight.

Roy turned and began to pace in the other direction, back toward the almost completed circle. Beyond the kneeling Armstrong stood Jean Havoc, watching as faithfully as Riza, albeit a bit more casually: leaning a shoulder against one wall, ankles crossed, arms folded across his chest -- and of course the inevitable, unlit cigarette was dangling from his lips. Everything fine there, too.

Just a few more lines. Armstrong was an excellent alchemist, and very adept at drawing arrays. He was adept at a lot of things, wasn't he?

Roy grimaced briefly at the thought, thinking again of the stupid question he'd posed just as the man had begun to draw the design -- a question which would likely be answered in just a few minutes anyway. Very unwise thing to do -- had Armstrong been less confident in his own abilities, he might have started to second-guess his work, and a flaw would almost certainly have crept into the lines and patterns. Fortunately, though, the other alchemist had kept his head and continued drawing, slowly and carefully, and as far as Roy could tell, it was perfect.

And almost finished. One particularly finicky rune to go. Which was why Roy was more irritated than aghast when a familiar voice suddenly burst into the alley, breaking the spell of concentrated, anticipatory silence.

"Lieutenant Havoc, let me see! What's going on in there? What are you doing?"

Winry.

Roy's heart sank. He could see her silhouette against the light of the brighter street outside the alley, past Havoc's now outstretched arms. She kept trying to duck around the rangy lieutenant to see into the alley, and Jean kept stepping in her way.

"Winry, please, can't you just go?" Jean hissed in furtive tones. Not even Fullmetal could have missed the hint.

Winry was having none of it. "There's something going on, Havoc. I don't think General Mustang told me the truth. I want to talk to him!"

"You can't... maybe later--"

"I'm not leaving," the young woman continued, loudly enough to draw some curious glances from passersby, "until I get some answers."

Roy sighed. "It's all right, Jean, let her by. We'll attract more attention trying to keep her out than if we just let her in."

Jean cast an apologetic glance back as he stepped aside. "Sorry boss." Winry marched into the alley, and then another girl quickly followed her in, ducking sideways as Jean tried to grab her arm. "Hey! Look here--"

"She's with me, so you can leave her alone," Winry shot over her shoulder. As the two women strode up to the far arc of the ring, Roy saw that Winry's friend wore overalls as well, but hers curved over a distinctly distended and pregnant stomach. But even more striking was the fact that both legs jutting below the pant legs were constructed of automail. Roy suspected that was how she'd sidestepped Jean so easily; the man was quick on his feet, and usually not so easily outmaneuvered.

Roy graced her with only a brief glance as he said, "You shouldn't be here." Then he pointedly turned his focus back to Alex and the array.

Undeterred, Winry grasped his good arm and forced his attention back to her. "Why? Because you're doing something illegal? You're not just here to investigate something strange, are you, Roy?" the girl demanded. "You're here to create something strange."

"I can't get into this right now, Winry," Roy said as he gently, but firmly, pulled away from her, "there just isn't time." Then he strolled toward the other side of the array, fully intending that to be the end of it. "I can explain later when I've done--"

"And what is that?" she snapped as she pursued him, carefully skirting the array. "Did you cause that earthquake? Because if you did--"

"Of course not!" Roy said as he reared back at the accusation.

"Well you're always up to something, and the results aren't always healthy, are they?" she insisted, advancing close enough that he could smell the subtle hint of machine oil on her. "I said I wanted answers, and I'm going to get them, General. I want to know why the four of you were disguised when you got into town this morning, and what you're hiding now."

"Winry," he said tightly, as he raised his hand, placing an invisible boundary between them, "I swear, we're not going to hurt any--"

"Why should I believe that?" she interrupted once again, ignoring the hand and leaning closer. She wasn't much shorter than he was, but her proximity caused her to glare up at him -- determination and relentlessness practically humming through her. "You're always doing something to hurt someone. I'm already dealing with the results of the earthquake; I don't want to have to patch people back together when you've finished--" she waved a hand at the ground "--whatever it is you're doing here. So I want to know what it is, General!"

"I'm trying to bring the Elrics home!" he blurted.

She took a shocked step back and stared at him. "What?" she said blankly.

Roy's head dropped and he ran his hand through his hair. This wasn't what he wanted her to know yet. He couldn't carry the guilt of shattering this girl's life once again if he failed, and yet he let himself get pushed into doing it anyway. "Edward and Alphonse, Winry," he said, softly, "I'm trying to bring them home."

Armstrong's arm curved in front of him, the steadily moving chalk making the last connection, completing the last line. "Done," he murmured, sitting back on his heels. "It is ready, General."

The pregnant woman slipped an arm around Winry's shoulders, saying urgently, "Win? You okay?" While Winry continued staring at Roy in stunned silence, the blood draining so swiftly from her dangerously pale face that he thought she might keel over.
__________


September 5, 2006
Central Oklahoma

"I'm going to miss your brand of insanity, you know," Ed murmured as he gripped Ducky's shoulder.

Al still found it hard to believe, but as he'd spent the past couple hours digesting it, he started to notice little things in a different light. Subtle hints that Ducky was, indeed, an Elric: in the shape of his face and eyes, the way he could be just as stubborn as Ed, himself...

"No you won't," Ducky responded, as he turned to Tom and tossed him the keys to the Ninjavan. "You'll need these." He faced the brothers once more with a grin that sent a thrill shooting through Al -- and if the narrow-eyed, tense-jawed expression on his brother's face was any indication, Ed had come to the same conclusion.

Tom stared down at the ring in his hands as though expecting it to bite him, and said, "Are you out of your ever-lovin' mind, Ducks?"

"Heist is going to need you." Ed clenched the other man's shoulder tightly enough that the fabric of Ducky's loud, flower-print shirt gathered between his fingers and Al was grateful for the other man's sake that it wasn't the automail hand. "Maes will need you."

Unlike his bother, Al wasn't so certain. By all logic, Ducky had no business jumping the Gate with them. He didn't belong in their world any more than they belonged in his... yet at the same time, there was a sense of rightness about the idea. Like a circle, the Elric legacy had begun in their world, and perhaps it was fitting that it would eventually end there, as well. Al found that he kind of liked the idea of Ducky coming along.

"Heist has Llyn. She'll be all right." Then Ducky's expression softened, as he said, "Gramps wants me to keep an eye on you. Besides, Uncle Al deserves a break once in awhile."

Ed glanced at his younger brother and Al shrugged. "Can't argue with that, Brother. You are pretty high-maintenance, after all."

"You're not helping here."

"Wait a minute!" Reilly blurted. "Uncle whu--?"

Al snapped around, having nearly forgotten this wasn't exactly a private moment, and scanned the varying degrees of shock on the faces of Tom, Reilly and Hughes. But before he or Ed could offer any sort of explanation, Tom's cell beeped with a text alert. "No time, folks. Ducks, are you staying or going?"

"I'm going." "He's staying!"

Okay, so maybe Ducky coming along on this adventure wasn't going to be easy -- but then, when had anything ever been simple for them?

Both men glared at each other with identical stubborn sets in their shoulders and Al glanced from one to the other, then threw up his hands and flopped down on the ground. He pulled his flute from his pocket as he muttered, "As if one of them wasn't enough." He flexed his fingers and settled them over the holes in the instrument, then shot over his shoulder, "Make up your minds, already. I'm opening this Gate."

"Dammit, Ducky, you can't go with me. It's not your world."

"It's just as much mine as it is yours!"

Al hesitated with the flute barely to his lips and twisted around to watch the fireworks. Explaining this should be fascinating, to say the least, and he wasn't going to be able to center himself when those two were yelling at each other anyway. He just hoped they wrapped it up fairly quickly.

"What?! Are you nuts?"

"Think about it," Ducky reasoned. "You came from there -- and you're my great grandfather -- that makes it my world, too."

"That's the stupidest argument I've ever heard," Ed said as he shook his head and tangled his fingers in his hair. "That logic's more twisted than using a fucking flute to open a Gate."

"I'm confused," Hughes murmured to Reilly and Tom. "Are you confused?"

"I've gone way beyond confused," Reilly said.

"It's Ducky," Tom said. "He projects confusion like really bad body odor. You can't avoid smelling him, and the stink clings to you even after he leaves. Unfortunately, he's completely oblivious to it."

"It makes perfect sense," Ducky argued, jabbing a finger, like a fleshy punctuation mark, in the direction of the array and leaning in toward Ed as if sheer force of will would get the blond to relent. "One fourth of my DNA originated on that side of the Gate, and if we could've compared Maes'--" he said as he aimed that emphasizing finger at Hughes, "--with his doppleganger, I'll bet you that they'd be identical, which would mean more than a quarter came from there."

Hughes took a stunned step back and whispered, "What are you talking about?"

"That's what I want to know," Reilly said.

"You're not going, and that's final," Ed said, as he took a determined step closer to Ducky and cut the air with his metal hand. "Your... DNA, or whatever, aside, you wouldn't survive in our world. You're the one who thinks we live in the stone age, remember?"

"Will you keep it down to a dull roar? I can't concentrate!" Al shouted. This had gone on long enough, and if he didn't put a stop to it now -- as stubborn as both of them were -- it would go on forever.

"Al, just play," Hughes said, pointing at the youngster sitting on the ground. Then he rounded on Ducky and said, "You... you're staying here."

"I made a promise!"

"One you can't keep!" Ed insisted.

"This isn't some game where you can just hit escape and start over again when things get tough," Hughes said.

"No shit!" Ducky exploded. "Don't you think I know that? If I wanted 'easy', I'd stay, but Ed and Al... and you in a bizarre, twisted way, are family, and I made a promise to the only blood that really mattered before now, and I'll be damned if I'm going to break it."

"You've got three seconds, then we're going without you, Ducks," Tom snapped as he tried to pull on Reilly's arm.

"Dammit, what in the bloody hell is everyone going on about?" Reilly insisted, while stubbornly refusing to budge.

Al caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to gaze at the raven doing a little agitated dance on the far side of the array. With a heavy sigh, he said, "I know what you mean." He could practically feel the Feds breathing down their necks, and it was going to take time for him to find his center if he wanted to lose himself in the music enough to open the Gate. As amusing as this argument might have been under other circumstances, it was time to declare a cease-fire. "Brother," he said softly, as he watched the raven become calm, "Ducky's going, and you can't stop him any more than you could stop me." He smiled up at the stunned expression on Ed's face and said, "He is an Elric, after all." He gazed over at Hughes and added, "He's also a Hughes."

"Okay, mystery solved! Time's up!" Tom shouted and yanked Reilly nearly off her feet.

 "Wait!" Reilly protested as she stumbled backwards, "I want to hear the whole story!"

Ducky waved and called, "Go talk to Gramps! He'll tell you all about it!" To Hughes, he grinned and said, "I'll give you the details after the jump. Al, haven't you got that thing open yet?"

Al paused with the flute halfway to his lips and glared at the remainder of their group. "I'm trying."

"So what's the problem?" Ed asked.

Al's only response before he attempted, yet again, to start playing, was a frustrated groan and the rolling of his eyes. He suddenly remembered, with a bittersweet twang in his gut, Gene saying something once about a Chinese curse: 'May you live in interesting times'. Oh yeah, life was about to get very interesting, all right.
__________


Rush Valley, Amestris

Bring the boys home.

He's bringing them home...

Winry's subconscious was moving a bit faster than the rest of her brain today -- that repeated and obviously unintended revelation wiping out all but the most basic motor functions. Had Paninya not been clutching her arms, she was pretty certain her backside would be greeting the concrete below. As it was, the concrete at her back served nicely as a sudden brace. "You... you're..." Come on girl, keep it together. Speech was definitely not a problem for you ten seconds ago! "You're what!?" Short but at least a complete sentence.

The General wasn't looking at her any longer -- that single glance his last before turning to examine the lines drawn by the Major. "Good work."

She still stared at Mustang -- but he was clearly not going to look back. He'd obviously not intended to share that little revelation -- he'd meant to militarily deny everything. She could demand it, she knew. She had influence with him that nobody else could ever claim to have. He would owe her for an eternity, and he knew it.

But...

There was a time, about two years ago, where she would have accepted such a revelation unquestioningly. Roy Mustang's bald statement alone would have been enough to send hope soaring -- filling her heart with the truth that, where certain individuals were involved, anything and everything could happen. But that had been before...

Before that final battle... Before that final goodbye... Before she'd stopped looking back, and started looking forward -- knowing she couldn't count on anyone else to build her dreams for her.

He didn't plan to come back.

So how could anyone think there was a chance that he would?

That he could.

That he was even still...

A mental wrench to the forehead worked almost as well as the actual tool. Leave it to Edward to mess with her emotions even out of sight! If-- WHEN that boy returned, he'd
better be wearing a helmet!

Not letting the other internal voice state otherwise -- the need to act superseding self-coddling -- Winry brushed Paninya's hands (one cold and one warm... just like Ed) from her arms and stepped forward. "What do you need me to do?"

A single eyed stare turning back again -- that crisp and irreverent smile gliding with his lips -- Roy Mustang raised one brow in a look that nearly bordered on flirtation. "We need a distraction. A big one."

And heaven help her, excitement lurched beneath her ribs and Winry grinned too. "How soon?"

"Not long. An hour or two, at most." Mustang turned back to inspecting the array. An array that might bring Ed and Al back -- or it might slip the alchemist's control and obliterate the whole town.

Winry swallowed thickly.

Paninya grabbed her hand in her flesh one; cradling her stomach with the other. "I have an idea!" The young woman's dark eyes gleamed with enthusiasm and some mischief. "But we'll need some help."

The mechanic nodded in reply. "I know just who to ask."
__________


Central Oklahoma

Do they all get their fashion sense from 'The Matrix',? Sheriff Mark Tanner wondered. He squared his shoulders and met the gaze of the tall, icy blonde woman. She had to be at least 50% plastic -- no natural human being could be that flawless from head to toe. He was certain she'd never blinked the entire time since she took off her 'standard issue' sunglasses.

There was no way they were getting any further onto the 'res without the proper paperwork. Of course, they'd all conveniently have forgotten that the reservation was legally sovereign territory. Since they were government wage monkeys, they would think the laws didn't apply to them, and they'd expect federal ID and standard search warrants to suffice. After all, local cops were just brainless muscle to be pushed aside when they became inconvenient to the people who really mattered.

Well, they were in for a surprise. Tanner and half of his men were parked about five miles to the west of the sacred grounds, and Tanner's deputy, Maria Brightweather, and the other half of the reservation force, were blocking the highway from the east -- and this road was the only way into where the alleged fugitives were. There would be no end-run around them.

Tanner was planning to enjoy this. All they needed was a few minutes -- if all went as planned, Singer's friends would disappear like a puff of smoke, and there would be no evidence they ever existed in this world. But if he could, the Sheriff was going to milk the opportunity for all it was worth. He'd keep the Ice Bitch standing there into next week if he could. Then it wouldn't matter if the Feds brought the entire force with them.

“You're impeding the lawful pursuit of three dangerous criminals, Sheriff,” the woman had said as she'd emerged from the first governmentally nondescript black sedan.

“You're trespassing on sovereign Indian land, Officer. This is my jurisdiction. If there're any fugitives to be had here, my people will roust them out for you.”

She pulled a folded sheath of papers from the inside pocket of her suit jacket and handed them to him. “We have a warrant.”

Tanner took a glance and held them back to her, unimpressed. “Not from the BIA,” he said, but no sooner were the words out of his mouth than a male version of the 'Ice Queen' unfolded himself from the vehicle behind hers... carrying another set of documents. Tanner didn't need to see them. The victorious smirk on the woman's face was enough.

He took his time flipping through the pages anyway. Usually, he didn't care much for paperwork -- but these papers, he read every word of. Since they were printed in standard federal jargon, single-spaced, he could kill those few precious minutes even if everything was perfectly legal.

 Is any of this shit for real? Tanner scanned through the first warrant in the stack. Edward Elric, wanted for questioning in connection with the murders of Ray Purdue, Katherine Letrowsky, multiple counts of larceny, bombing of Park City Medical, hacking of multiple government databases...who are these people? Singer's calm face came to mind. Tanner flipped to the next warrant. Alphonse Elric. More hacking, more bombing, more murder. Singer wouldn't have helped criminals like the ones described in these pages. Maes Hughes. Mary Reilly. Thomas Mears... This smells. What are the odds that this many psychopaths and criminal masterminds would join forces?

He finally ran out of pages. With a resigned sigh, Tanner pressed the button on the side of the mic clipped to his shoulder, and said, “Brightweather, if you got any Feds chomping at the bit on your end, let 'em go. They have the proper paperwork.”

"No Men in Black showing themselves on this end, Boss," his deputy responded. "We'll disperse, Sir."

Much to Tanner's amazement, the woman standing in front of him chuckled. It wasn't a pleasant sound, and if he'd been one to believe in demons or aliens or shit like that, Tanner would have pegged her as nonhuman just because her laugh was so fake. She smiled, another plastic, unfeeling expression, and said, “I suspected you would do your best to make sure the suspects escaped. You'll be hearing from the proper authorities about the disciplinary consequences of this little stunt. Fortunately, you haven't succeeded. While you've been wasting our time, Sheriff, several field operatives have made their way into the area. We--” she waved at the three sedans behind her, “--were the decoy.” Her expression went stony, and Tanner could swear the temperature dropped ten degrees at that very moment. “Now, if you don't want to be charged with obstruction of justice, harboring fugitives, and a very long list of other crimes that could conceivably get you and your entire force locked in solitary confinement at Leavenworth, I would suggest you get your ass out of the way, and allow the Federal Government to do its job.”
__________

Rush Valley, Amestris

"I don't know, dammit!" Roy Mustang glared at the chalked array and scowled. "All I know for sure is that it's going to happen before sunset today, and that this is where I have to be if it's going to work."

"That's going to make it hard to create a distraction at just the right time," Paninya repeated for the fifth or sixth time. "Can't you... send up a flare or something?"

"Not without alerting the ones we seek to avoid," Armstrong answered gravely.

"How about a shot? Hawkeye and I are both carrying plain old non-alchemist service revolvers." Havoc took his from the shoulder holster under his jacket. "I've got a couple extra clips, so I can spare a round or two."

"Good idea," Mustang approved. "Your plan would work if we had more time, Paninya," He was careful to pronounce her name correctly, "but I don't think you two could safely set it up in the time we have."

"Leave that to us," Paninya flashed the Flame Alchemist a grin and grabbed Winry by the hand, pulling her into a headlong dash that lasted for about a block before Paninya slowed to a jog, then a fast walk, and then finally a chuckle-laced groan as she wrapped an arm around her large belly and leaned against a wall. "Urg-- life would be a lot more fair if men were required to carry these things at least part of the time. I should have had Dominic just rebuild me from the waist down when he had the chance."

Winry smiled, though she was worried about the other woman. "Are you sure about this? I mean, we can always get someone else..."

The brown eyes that met hers had a wild flash that reminded her of a pick-pocketing pixie from long ago. Still holding her stomach, Paninya straightened and grabbed Winry's hand. "Like there's anyone else who'd believe that crazy story about feeling Ed and Al trying to come home?" Her grin widened as she tugged them into a slow lope once more. "Besides, it'll be fun!"

Her own enthusiasm bolstered by the vibrant determination of her companion, Winry allowed Paninya to pull her into a shambling jog. Why shouldn't she hope? If everything worked like Mustang said...

...if Roy Mustang wasn't succumbing to the psychosis that seemed to be a part of alchemical mastery. If he wasn't telling some kind of elaborate lie to win her cooperation and silence while he worked another convoluted scheme to boost himself higher up the ladder of power. If he was-- she didn't think he was lying, but he was a master manipulator and he knew her weaknesses, damn sure he did -- if he'd lied about trying to bring Ed and Al home, she really would break his other arm. Maybe a few other things, too.
__________

Central Oklahoma

"I have to admit," Heist mused, watching Llyn drive as she turned sideways in the passenger seat with one leg curled under her, "you've got a lot more spunk than I expected at first."

"Which, I take it, is a compliment?" He smiled slightly, but almost immediately his brows came together as he scanned the road ahead for the first incoming vehicles.

"That would be a compliment, yes. And you've got nerve, too, driving straight into a storm like this."

"Maybe, maybe not," the young man murmured. He flashed her a mischievous wink, making her think simultaneously how adorable he was when winking, and wonder who ever winked at anyone these days? "I can play the doctor card first," he mused.

"Play doctor? You think the Men in Black will play along?"

He almost barked, as a laugh burst out of him of its own accord. The look he flashed this time was far less mischievous, and far more lascivious. "When next I play doctor," he announced, deliberately rolling the "r" with that Welsh lilt that, she had to admit, made her rather tingly, "it will not be with any number of men, in black or no. The lady, however, may wear black if she pleases. Though I doubt she'll be wearin' it for long, if you catch my meaning."

Heist giggled and fell silent. She watched his dark brows draw together again as he dragged his attention back to the road and continued to plan.

"What should I do as the doctor...? I could have begged for their help if you were pregnant, and maybe distracted them by demanding an escort to a hospital."

"I'm no help there, sorry," she snickered. "I've even lost weight while we've been on the run."

"We could be seriously lost, I suppose."

"That wouldn't be distracting enough. They'd just send us to the nearest gas station."

"You're right."

"I know," Heist suggested. "We've just been abducted by aliens, and need to talk to the feds about it right away. And by sheer coincidence -- these guys happen to be the feds. Our lucky day."

"Now, that's devious," Llyn responded in admiration.

"It's the company I keep. Half of my friends suspect they've been abducted already. Or hope to be, some day. In the meantime," it was Heist's turn to flash a naughty grin, "you and I can flip a coin to decide who got to have the anal probe."

Again the man barked out a laugh. "Stop distractin' me, woman! Are ye tryin' to make me go off the road?"

"Not till we get rid of the feds," she laughed back.

"Y'r creative imagination is goin' to take some getting used to. I'll be hard pressed to keep up with ye," Llyn remarked.

"It's called 'growing up with Ducky'," Heist snickered again. But suddenly, at the thought of her friend, another thought occurred to her and she exclaimed vehemently, "Oh no! Oh shit!"

"What's happened? What's wrong?" Llyn watched in alarm as she frantically patted herself down, wriggling about in the seat as she felt the back of her jeans and dug into the pockets of her jacket. With a small moan, she leaned over and frantically started feeling Llyn's legs near his hips and then ran her hands over his chest. "I'm flattered," Llyn stammered, frowning in puzzlement, "but shouldn't we wait until we get somewhere a bit more... private?"

Instead of answering, Heist darted her hand into his jacket, then drew it right back out with a "Hah!" Flipping open his cellphone, "Hold on," she answered shortly as she rapidly punched in the number to Ducky's cell. "Come on, come on," she urged as she heard the ringing begin.

"Helene, tell me what's happened--" Llyn began, but her voice drowned him out.

"Oh no no no! Not voice mail! Pick up, Ducky, or I swear--" She punched in the number again, hoping against hope that he'd answer, that they'd be in range, that somehow the phone would work this time -- that somehow he wasn't already gone. But no. The message began to run again: '...If you need me to tell you how to leave a message, then you're probably a total stranger, or from another planet. If you're a stranger, don't bother, but if you're from another planet I'd really like to talk to you...'

"I'll never forgive you for this, Tuckandroll!" Heist yelled at the answering message as it droned on, oblivious to her urgency. "I promise, Ducklord, some day you are gonna pay!"

"In the name of all that's holy and merciful, will you please tell me what is wrong?" Llyn cried. He looked about ready to pull the car over, the Men in Black or anyone else be damned.

Heist snapped the phone shut and slumped back against the door behind her. "I should have thought of it," she groaned. "How could I have been so stupid?" She fixed Llyn in her miserable gaze and wailed, "Ducky's still got my backpack in the Ninjavan!" She covered her face and moaned. "Everything's in there! Merlin, Mordred, Lancelot, Guenevere! All of them!"

"Ah, ye lost me, darlin'," Llyn said.

"My laptop and all my equipment," she wailed. "Do you have any idea how much trouble I'd be in if the Feds found it? I don't think even your mother could get me out of that."

"Do I even want to know what kind of 'equipment' ye're talkin' about? Never mind, no, I don't." Llyn pointed at the cell and added, "Try Tom or Reilly. P'haps one of them will make sure it's safe. After all, they'll be usin' the Ninjavan to get out of there, yes?"

Heist squeaked and wrenched Llyn's head around to give him a kiss, whereupon he swerved and nearly sideswiped an unmarked semi parked on the side of the road. "Of course! Why didn't I think about that?" She let him go and allowed him to recover while she dialed up Reilly's number.

As she held the phone up to her ear, she saw three black sedans race past them in the opposite direction.
__________

Ducky tried not to strain for the sounds of the van receding in the distance as it drove away. It had gone far enough by now that he'd just be imagining the sound anyway, but it was hard to keep himself from trying to hear the last faint murmuring of the engine. He and that Ninjavan had been through a lot together. It was hard, hard to let it go after all that.

But he'd made his choice, and it was time to look ahead. He stood at the edge of the array with Ed, Al, and Hughes, and waited breathlessly to see where this wild and crazy life of his would take him next. Oh, Gramps, he thought.

The sun glinted off Al's brown hair in sparks of gold as he smiled at his two companions, finally relaxing at last into the relative peace and quiet now that everyone else had left. Again he put the flute to his mouth, closing his eyes and taking a breath. He let it out slowly, softly, and the notes began to emerge from the instrument...

...and almost immediately stopped.

He took another breath, smiled to himself, and began to play again...

...and after just a few notes, the music faltered and faded, and then stopped again.

Ducky exchanged a worried glance with Hughes, and resolutely kept his mouth shut. But he could tell the man was almost ready to say something, himself.

"Al?" Ed whispered.

His brother shook his head slightly, not opening his eyes. He took another couple of gentle breaths to calm or stabilize himself or something, and put his lips once again to the flute. This time the music came more steadily, more strongly, and when Ducky saw his shoulders gradually loosen and relax, he himself began to relax as well. He hadn't realized just how tense he'd gotten in less than a minute. He had just enough time to flash an amused, 'Weren't we stupid to worry' grin at Hughes, and then...

And then... the music hesitated, spurted a little, and stopped again.

Ducky glanced nervously at Ed, still afraid to say anything, and fighting the urge to look over his shoulder toward the road. He'd begun to imagine that he might be catching the merest hint of sirens in the distance. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Hughes surreptitiously fiddling with something up his sleeve. Where, Ducky suddenly remembered, he kept his knives stashed. Meanwhile Ed watched his brother intently, biting his lip, obviously wondering if he should say anything. His very stance was uneasy, leaning forward, brows drawn, flesh hand gripping his automail arm so tightly his knuckles were white.

Still Al did not open his eyes. He lowered the flute for a moment, murmured, "Find the center," and lifted the instrument yet again to his lips.

And for the fourth time, all he managed were a few vague notes before he seemed to lose the melody he sought. At last he grabbed the flute in one fist and dropped it to his side, lifting his eyes to the sky in frustration. "Aaaargh!"

Ducky's gaze flew to Ed's face as he waited for an explosion, now that the cork had popped. Fortunately, Ed didn't seem ready to go critical quite yet, but he did seem relieved that he could finally say something.

"Al? What's wrong?" he asked.

"It's not working," Al answered.

"I can see that. What's the matter? You did say you knew how to use this thing."

"I did. I do."

"You...'did'? Would you suddenly just forget something like this? I thought you'd gotten it working before--"

"I did. And I do know how to use it. I'm doing everything right, but it's just not working. I don't understand it."

"Well, you have to fix it somehow, Al. We don't have any time left."

"Do you think I don't know that?" Al retorted angrily. He buried both hands in his hair (the flute, Ducky thought hysterically, jutting up like some kind of antenna), and gasped a couple of deep breaths. "Can't get mad," he muttered. "Have to stay calm."

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Hughes asked. He kept loosening his sleeves and shrugging his shoulders. He was getting ready for a fight, Ducky could tell.

Ed's demeanor was at last beginning to fray despite his efforts to keep his agitation under control. "Calm isn't going to accomplish anything now. They're practically on our collective asses!" he pointed stiffly in the direction from which the Feds would come, if they were in fact on their way. "Al, you have to do something!"

"Don't start yelling now, Ed, please!" Al implored his brother, hands still clutching his hair. "I can't think if you start yelling at me -- I can't think--"

"Stay calm, Al," Hughes put in, in his most reasonable tone. "Nobody's going to yell at you."

"That's right," Ducky agreed. "Because it wouldn't help anything, getting on your case now. Right, Ed?"

Ed turned and glared at him. "Look, just stay out of this, all right? We'll figure it out."

Oh, that was rich. "I have as much right to say something as you do," Ducky retorted. "I just know that yelling at Al wouldn't help him figure anything out, that's all." Again he thought of the Ninjavan with considerable yearning, though he regretted losing it for entirely different reasons now. Without it, they were going to be sitting ducks if Al really couldn't manage to get the Gate open.

To his surprise, Ed nodded sharply. "You're right. You're right. There's no time to get upset. Al, don't worry that you can't use the flute -- I'll try something else instead. I'll get us out of this somehow. Don't worry."

 Always the protector, thought Ducky.

At the sound of a loud fluttering off to one side, the four of them turned quickly, both Hughes and Ed automatically bending into a low crouch, arms up in fighting posture. But it was only the raven, returned to settle back to its previous perch on the bush. It ruffled its feathers before it lifted and placed each of its feet in turn, to get a better hold on the branch. Ed let out a sigh of relief, then went to one knee, eyes scanning the lines of the circle, his hands poised in front of him.

"Ed..." The unease on Hughes' face reflected exactly what Ducky was feeling. The man licked his lips and repeated, "Ed... you know you can't make it work that way."

"Well, I have to try, don't I? I can't just stand around and do nothing."

Ducky demanded, "Then who're you gonna kill to get it open? Me? Hughes?"

"Don't be stupid." Ed didn't even look up, his brows drawn together in an intense frown as he calculated. "I'll find another way."

"If you could've done that, you'd have found one by now."

"Well, I have to do something don't I--"

"Ed." Al's quiet voice somehow cut through the conversation. "Brother -- I know why it isn't working."

Ed sprang to his feet, turning around eagerly. "So what's the problem? How do we fix it?"

Al wasn't even looking at him, but remained as he'd been since the raven's arrival, sitting utterly still, his solemn grey eyes fixed on the bird. The young man answered softly, "There isn't a problem. It just isn't the right time."
__________


Rush Valley, Amestris

Roy let the flares fade away as the two girls slipped back out to the street. Paninya's idea was more than a little farfetched, but even if it only made noise and a little smoke, it would be enough of a distraction, for long enough. Roy returned to pacing the length of the alley, flexing the fingers of his right hand.

He couldn't sit still. Couldn't even stand still. He'd prided himself for years on his ability to keep his temper, to hide and control his every reaction -- and yet he couldn't school his face into neutrality or keep his body from pacing like a caged animal.

"Sir, you will exhaust yourself." Alex remarked quietly. Roy grunted in agreement, but nothing more. Armstrong was right. He was going to wear himself out before he even activated the array.

 Center. Find the center. It wasn't time yet, but Roy knew with a certainty that he couldn't place a finger on, that he would know when it was.
__________


Winry and Paninya reached Dominic's automail shop, both panting and disarrayed like playful children rather than adults with a mission. The older mechanic had one of his long-term clients in for an adjustment. The privacy curtain was drawn -- a barrier that existed as much in Dominic's head as the physical world. Interrupting a consultation with a client was a cardinal sin to the master mechanic's mind, and he would stoically ignore all clamor for his attention -- and possibly even his shop collapsing around his ears -- until he was finished tending to his client.

Not that that stopped Winry from trying.

"Mr. Dominic!" She threw aside the curtain, startling the client so that he lurched backward in the chair. As for her boss, however, he didn't even give her a glance.

"There's a bit of wear on inner plate. We'll need to adjust the fitting before we rebalance the center joint." He lifted the man's automail arm, rotating first the elbow, and then the shoulder, eliciting a small squeak. "Sounds like some of the bearings may be in need of a little grease." He stood then, knees popping loudly. in a few more years, he'd probably be considering automail himself. Some of their clients now had skeletal automail to replace damaged joints -- and the old man would be an excellent advertisement...

Winry shook her head. Don't get sidetracked! "Mr. Dom..."

"You can put your shirt back on, Tain. I'll schedule you for a refit later this month." He pushed past the two women, headed deeper into the interior of the shop. They dogged his heels, Paninya almost jigging despite the weight of her pregnancy. Winry was opening her mouth for the third time when the gruff man finally faced her.

"Girl, you know my rules." He said sternly. Folding his arms, he waited expectantly for an apology.

"We need help!" Winry launched full-force into her pitch as a single grizzled eyebrow climbed toward a receding hairline. She hurried on before Dominic could say no. "I was buying pastries at that coffee shop you like so much when I ran into Colonel Mustang, well he used to be Colonel but now he's a General, but he was undercover and Miss Hawkeye was with him, and so was Lieutenant Havoc but they were all in disguises -- they were bad disguises but they tried, you should have seen Major Armstrong, he should stick to military uniforms from now on if that's his idea of blending in with local fashion--" one breath was hardly enough to contain the bulk of words she thrust his way "--but they said they're bringing Ed and Al home and we need to create a diversion so that the rest of the military doesn't catch them!"

Whatever response she'd expected wasn't the one she received. After a second of unblinking examination, Dominic turned his back and headed for the workshop. "We've got customers waiting for their automail."

It was a good thing Paninya was hanging on to her arm because Winry was prepared to wing the first tool she saw at the man's head.
__________


Central Oklahoma

"That was Heist," Reilly said as she closed the phone. "She was freaking out about her laptop--"

"Figures," Tom grumbled, as he gripped the wheel of the Ninjavan tightly and negotiated the rutted cowpath as quickly as he could -- which was only about a mile or two per hour faster than normal. "We're about to get surrounded by Men in Black, and she's worried about her toys."

"She also said that a whole line of black sedans with super-dark windows just stormed past them on the highway," Reilly finished, undeterred.

"That would be the Feds," Tom murmured.

"That would be my guess, too. The good news is, we should be able to hit that service road across the highway before we get into their line of sight."

Instead of speeding up, however, Tom slowed the van to a stop and threw it into park.

Reilly gasped and darted furtive glances out the windows all around them. "What? Where are they?" she demanded as she twisted around in the seat to peer into the trees behind them. A warm grip on her arm pulled her back into the seat and she faced Tom. Something wasn't right. "What is it?" she asked, an edge of panic raising her voice.

"What are we running for?"
__________


Ducky winced in expectation.

"What do you mean, it isn't the right time?" Ed yelled, patience finally exhausted. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"It's not the right moment yet," Al repeated. "There's something we have to wait for."

Ducky expected a major explosion, and from the tightness in Ed's jaw and the clenching of his fists, it was building, and almost ready to blow. But the elder brother hesitated, frowning in bewilderment at Al, who still sat gazing at the silent raven.

"Alphonse," he said. "You're not trying to say..."

"We have to wait."

"Wait for what?"

"I don't know."

"How do you even know we have to wait?"

Al made no answer, but just turned and looked up at him.

Hughes passed a hand across his eyes. "Oh boy," he muttered.

Ed's face went still. His eyes flickered toward the raven, and back to his brother. Watching the color flood his face, Ducky could almost see the lava rising in his veins as his inner volcano prepared to erupt. "You," Ed said succinctly, "are completely out of your mind."

"No I'm not--"

"If you think," Ed plunged on, his voice rising in both volume and strength, "that I am going to stand here quietly and let some uniformed goons blow my brains out because you believe some... some damned bird--" he pointed an accusing finger at it "--is telling you to wait here, you are completely out of your mind!"

Al, with a calm that contrasted sharply with his brother's temper, smoothly came to his feet. "Ed." He didn't raise his voice, didn't make any other move at all. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course I trust you, what kind of a stupid question is--"

"I mean it, Ed. Do you trust me right this minute?"
__________


Reilly stared at Tom a moment, certain the stress had finally gotten to him, and jabbed a finger at the windshield. "Hello? Men in Black? Gitmo? Alien Autopsy-type shit? I kinda wanna keep my skin whole, thankyouverymuch."

He tilted his head, thoughtful. "Yeah but... what's going to happen if we get away today?"

"Uh... we live?"

Tom focused on her once more and cocked a brow. "And we keep running. Why? For how long? The rest of our lives? What's the point?"

A chill snaked down Reilly's spine and curled up tightly in her belly. Striking quickly, she snagged his collar and tried to yank him out of the seat as she levered herself up, fully intending to take control of the van and get them safe. "Dammit, Tom, this ain't 'High Noon' and you sure as fuck ain't John Wayne! Get... out... of the... way!" But he'd gone limp and she couldn't drag him from the seat. Not willing to give up, she wedged herself over to the driver's side, but only managed to get her legs tangled in his and fell against the doghouse, cracking her head against the roof and whacking her shoulder painfully against the mirror. Rubbing her head and trying to stop the speckles behind her eyes from blinding her, she paused -- and that was when she heard the choked laughter from Tom. "Dear Goddess, you've gone completely around the bend."

Tom wiped his eyes and pried her fingers from his collar. Getting his bizarre humour under control and himself back in the seat, he shook his head and said, "Hardly. And no, I don't have a death wish."

"Then what in the hell are you talking about?!"

"Heist has Llyn, and hiding one slip of a girl is going to be a hell of a lot easier than finding a safe place for me and you--"

"Get to the point, Old Man," Reilly snapped.

"We don't have shit left here," Tom said. "And everyone else who matters is back there," he said as he jerked a thumb behind them.

Reilly stared as his point slowly sank needle-sharp teeth into her mind. "You can't be serious," she whispered, but even she couldn't ignore the hopeful excitement that bloomed in her heart.

His expression went soft as he reached up to cup her cheek. "How much longer can you keep running, Mary? When will it finally be too much for you?"

Her heart pounded and she started to shake. It was already becoming more than she could bear, and if she was honest with herself, she knew what Tom wasn't saying was more truth than speculation... that if they stayed here, they would never stop running and hiding. Not now, not with what they knew -- what they'd seen. "Not without you," she murmured.

"Hell no. We've always been a team," he said, smiling. "Besides, Amestris needs protection from the Ducklord."

Reilly sniffled and barked out a short laugh, then disentangled herself from Tom and flopped back into the passenger seat. As she snapped her seatbelt on, she said, "We'd better get a move-on, then--"

"Uh-oh," Tom muttered.
__________


Rush Valley, Amestris
"Didn't you hear what I said?"

Hunched down over a box in the corner of the room, Dominic rattled his tools and boxes of spare parts. "I heard you. Heck, half the block heard you. What I didn't hear was whether or not you brought back a muffin for me."

A muff...? That's it, Winry thought. The man was dead.

Then Dominic sighed, dropping a scavenged metal limb back into the box. "Exactly how large of a diversion does your friend the General need?"
__________

Central Oklahoma
Ducky's heart sank. How many times, he wondered, could Ed take a body blow like this in a 24-hour period, and not break? Ed hadn't moved, yet Ducky could sense that Al's question had rocked him to the core.

He inched closer to Hughes and held his breath, both of them watching the brothers, who stood like statues, staring at each other as the feeling of impending doom grew more oppressive and their enemies drew closer. He could only guess at the details of the long personal history that had led Al to ask the question, and led his brother to hear it with such trepidation. All their years together, all the travels, the adventures... the rescues. 'I'll get us out of this somehow. Don't worry,' Ed had said. Could he ever relinquish control, ever truly allow himself to place his destiny completely in another's hands? Even Al's?

Alphonse smiled gently. And Ed closed his eyes, letting his breath out in a long sigh.

When he opened them again, he smiled widely, his golden eyes shining with a kind of reckless joy. "Yes," he said. "I trust you completely, Al. I trust you with my life." He turned to Ducky and Hughes. "So," he said. "We wait till Al knows it's the right time."

There was a snap of a branch -- like an explosion in the quiet of the clearing -- and Ducky whipped around toward the sound only to find his view blocked by the barrel of a cannon inches from his nose. As he uncrossed his eyes and was able to look beyond the large caliber handgun aimed at him, he saw they were surrounded by agents in black body armor.

"You're gonna have a nice long wait," someone said. It was hard to tell from whence it came -- the full-face helmets hid faces and distorted sound. "Put your hands up and don't make any sudden moves."
__________


"This would be one flight we don't want to mi--" Reilly broke off as she glanced up and felt her stomach drop with a splat down at her feet. "Sonuvabitch!"

Skidding off the highway and bouncing down the rutted path right at them were three black sedans with dark, smoked windows.

"I only count three. We couldn't be so lucky to think Tanner delayed the others, do you?" Reilly asked as she unsnapped her seatbelt.

"With you in the mix?" Tom sniped as he threw the van into reverse and floored the accelerator. "Might wanna hit the floor, kiddo."

Reilly didn't respond to the comment. Instead she flipped him a one-fingered salute and slid down below the dash. "What about you?"

Tom slouched down as he steered with one hand and watched out through the back. With his free hand, he pushed Reilly's head down further. "I've always been a hard target to hit, just stay down, will ya?"

"I am down, asshole!"

"Gary Cooper, by the way."

"What?!"

Tom spared a quick glance her way and smirked. "It wasn't John Wayne in 'High Noon', it was Gary Cooper."

"Like I give a shit right now?!"

Something small punched through the windshield and buried itself into the roof near the back seat of the van and Reilly squeaked, curling up on the floor and covering her head with her arms. She peeked up and said, "You all right?"

"Shit no," Tom snarked. "I've spent the last five months running with a sporadic psychic, an insane hacker and a hyper techno-geek trying to protect two alchemists and a manic intelligence officer who came from another world from a sociopathic assassin with a nasty grudge, whom, I might add, is also from this alternate world, and likes to make things go boom. Which, if any psychiatrist worth his sheepskin heard this, would consider it a good reason to lock me up in a padded cell. Let's not forget the the spiritual, flute-playing special ops guy who followed us around -- unbeknownst to me -- invisible portals to alternate worlds, flames being manipulated by music--"

"Were you hit, though?"

"Wha--? Oh, no. I'm fine."

"Then worry about driving," Reilly said as she rolled her eyes and started to squeeze between the seats and crawl toward the back, "you can vent your spleen later."

"I have not yet begun to ve--" Another shot broke through the windshield, ripped through the driver's seat and embedded itself in the seat behind it in a puff of fiberfill. "Damn, that was close," Tom said. "Reilly, what are you doing?"

"Looking for something we can use to slow them down."

"Like what? A Rubik's Cube? I don't think they'll be distracted that easily."

"--ARRGGGHHHH!"

"What?!" Tom hollered. "Were you hit?"

"No!" Reilly flopped on her ass on the floor of the van and buried her face in her hands. "That... asshole! Of all the times to--" She glanced up at Tom, not sure if she should laugh or cry. "Ducky cleaned the goddamned Ninjavan!"

"Good God, it really is the Apocalypse," Tom said, with an edge of hysterical laughter in his voice. Then another shot came through the windshield and joined the previous one in the seat behind him. When he stopped turtling, he cocked a wry brow and said, "At least they're consistent. Hold on."

Tom cranked the wheel violently and the van teetered as it turned a hard right before it came to an abrupt stop and settled back down with a rough thump on all four tires.

Reilly didn't need to be told what to do next. Lurching up and leaning over the seat, she grabbed the handle for the side door and threw it open. "Get in!" she shouted to the four stunned faces turned in her direction...

It was only when they didn't move that she realized they were all lined up with their hands clasped behind their heads -- surrounded by Storm Troopers in body armor pointing really big guns at their heads.

"Get out of the van," a voice behind a masked helmet ordered. "Keep your hands where we can see them, and no one will get hurt."

She heard Tom mutter, as he opened the driver's door, "Damned Reilly luck."

...Then the ground rumbled low, as if in agreement.
 
 
__________
 
 

September 5, 2006 Rush Valley, Amestris

The hardest part was making certain Paninya would be safe after the fact. Getting volunteers together actually proved to be the least difficult part of the process. Winry looked out over the gathered-- well, they looked like a rather grease-spattered mob --and gave her head a sharp shake. She should have known better. Of any community of people, automail mechanics, though fiercely competitive, were also bound together by their craft. The moment the word went out that a rescue operation was underway -- to bring back a long-lost hero, no less (not to mention a famous walking endorsement for automail) they converged in droves. Dozens of eager recruits packed into the small courtyard behind Dominic's shop to hear the explanation of what needed to be done.

Winry presented the initial idea, whereupon Dominic himself took over hammering out the details and assigning teams and jobs. The master mechanic sent two teams running back to their own shops for tools -- and some innocent household things that according to Armstrong and Mustang could be used for not-so-innocent purposes.

The scavengers came hurrying back with boxes and bags and knapsacks. Winry found herself carrying someone's grocery bag, loaded with decidedly non-grocery items, and bustling along with a chattering, cheerful group of ladies twice her age. The conversation was trivial and they passed along familiar, mundane streets on an errand that was anything but mundane. If Roy was right (oh pleasedon't be lying about this, Roy!) then there might not be another opportunity like this. Ever.

One hour. Just one hour and she could be seeing Ed and Al... Winry hugged her arms around the heavy grocery bag and boosted it higher.

Would they have changed much? Would Ed be taller? Would Al? She mentally slapped herself for the silliness of her question. Of course they'd be taller -- she'd calculated the rate of Ed's growth years ago. She even had a chart -- though that wasn't something the height-sensitive alchemist needed to know anything about.

Her eyes were blurring as she walked rapidly towards her destination. She wiped away the threatening tears before they could give her away.

One more hour...

The crowds thinned quickly -- reduced to nothing after a few more turns. Five more minutes of walking and they were there.

Winry looked up... and up... and up... The ancient structure was massive.

Over a hundred years ago, before Rush Valley had become the haven for individual mechanics and artisans, there had been an attempt at unifying the makers of automail under a strict consortium. The ruling aristocracy of the time had intended to reserve automail for themselves and their loyal armies. Backed by inherited wealth, the proponents for the plan went ahead and erected a massive warehouse in hopes of gathering up all of the automail mechanics and their shops, and walling them off, permitting access only to those with either the money to pay the exorbitant gate fees or the favor of some duke or petty king who'd trade power for a new arm or leg for his lackey. Unfortunately for the plan, the elite hadn't counted on the reaction of the automail mechanics. History recorded it as the "Craftsmen's Revolt" of 1628, and credited the infuriated mechanics with the founding of multiple anti-monarchist movements that eventually brought down the old kingdom and opened up the modern era, with its loosely-defined social classes, widespread literacy... and automail offered to anyone who wanted to endure the surgery and pay the mechanic's price. The warehouse, built to hold ready-made arms and legs and house the men who installed them, had been stripped of its enormous, studded steel doors, and emblazoned with the words of a nobleman. "My lords, my brothers, you have forgotten that the common man will forgive anything but to be taken for granted." Winry knew the story -- she glanced over the words without really seeing them, until her eyes caught on the nobleman's name. Duke Robert of Aramtrea, called the Strong Arm. I wonder if he wore a blond handlebar moustache?

Rubbing absently at her stomach, Paninya squinted up at the crumbling facade. "Guess you could say we're killing two birds with one stone," she said brightly.

Winry glanced at her friend, smiling. "A distraction and a demolition... I suppose you're right."

And there was no time to waste.

People scattered. Charges were laid out with the precise care of an automail engineer designing the layout of nerves and pistons for a new hand. The building was a decaying ruin and the explosives were homemade from household cleaners and bits of wire. Professionals would have taken days just to survey the building and decide where to put their charges.

The civilian bomb team finished in less than an hour.

One of the mechanics, an explosives expert and former military, wrapped the wires for the different floors. This ate up another ten minutes in which Winry was hard pressed not to chew her nails.

"We're ready."

As each team completed their assigned tasks, they melted away in small groups of one or two or three, blending into the general bustle of the city, but remaining nearby. Eventually only three people remained -- Dominic, the demolitions expert with the controls, and herself -- hidden in the deep shade of the back surrounding wall. They were far enough away to be safe, but close enough to move quickly if they needed to -- their fingers crossed. Waiting.
__________


Time. It was finally time. Roy felt the details of their carefully laid-out plan dimming in significance. He didn't understand where it was coming from, but a calmness washed over him, strengthening with every step. A calm, Roy noted after a quick glance around, that the other three weren't feeling.

He shoved his left hand into his pants pocket and fingered the battered watch he'd placed in there that morning. "Send the signal."

He heard the shots, and felt the earth rumble warningly as if in answer.
__________



The crack of Havoc's pistol firing echoed from the depths of the city, followed by two rapid shots, one right after another, from Hawkeye.

From the corner of the compound -- unseen by any casual passerby, particularly soldiers on patrol -- Dominic nodded to the man crouched in the dirt next to him.

"Do it."

The mechanic grinned and pressed down the bar.
__________


Roy felt it deep in his gut a split second before they heard it, a spike of adrenaline pushed through his system as the sounds of an explosion echoed distantly through the alley. Memories momentarily churned through his thoughts. Ishbal and fire, the rocking of the earth and the sound of rubble clattering down from the sky. Whatever had just exploded had been fairly substantial. With equal certainty he knew that this was Winry's diversion.

Paninya's long shot idea had come in a winner.

"We're not gonna have to arrest her after all this, are we?" Jean called from his spot, backing away slightly from the alley's entrance as people started filling the street, seeking out the source of the commotion.

"We'll let the locals take care of the aftermath," Roy replied. He crouched at the edge of the array and waved a hand at Armstrong to step away from it. Easing his right arm out of the sling, he took a deep breath and ticked off the seconds for the precious window of cover Winry had created for them to arrive. Every nerve tingled with anticipation as he waited for the rippling aftershock that should be following any moment now...
__________


Central Oklahoma

Ed heard his brother draw in a sharp breath, and glanced over to see a grim determination settle across Al's features. Mental alarms wailing, this was it, Ed moved as one with Al while the ground below their feet shivered like it, too, knew the moment had come.

Al reached for his flute even as Ed grabbed him and pulled him down. The whole area began quaking before the agents could react to their suddenly shifting targets. There wasn't time to shoot when they were struggling to just stay upright, and Ed had enough presence of mind to shout to the others to take cover. That came in the form of the van, which Ed watched with relief as Reilly and Tom dove back inside. Hughes rushed towards the agent positioned between them and the van, taking him out with icy efficiency before rounding on the next one. Ducky reacted to the initial tremor like an invisible rug had been yanked from under his feet and he pinwheeled wildly trying to balance. Regaining as much footing as he could, Ducky spun, to Ed's horror, back towards him instead of the van.

"Shut up, I told you I'm coming with you!" Ducky preempted the tirade that was on the tip of Ed's tongue. "What do I need to do?"

Together they glanced down at Al, who had already pressed the flute to his lips and begun the first tentative notes. The tune warbled in time with the shaking ground, but it was short-lived as Al pulled back sharply and frowned. "Right time, wrong place."
__________


Rush Valley, Amestris

Rocks and other debris continued to trickle down over Paninya's awkwardly curled form.  In spite of the cleverly constructed shelter of what appeared to be randomly collapsed beams, she wasn't completely confident in this plan now that her role had been enacted.  Playing the distressed victim was so not her thing, and she had no one to complain about it to but herself.

"Brilliant idea girl. Maybe you should have added a broken leg to make it more realistic." The muttered sarcasm carried a small shake as another cluster of tremors rumbled through the demolished structure. Closing her lids both in anxiety as well as to keep the floating grit off her eyes, she curled one arm around her belly as she tried to readjust. Of all the times to be emotional. If there wasn't so much work to do around here, Paninya would have gladly given in to the urge to smash a metal fist through the beam beside her. Of course, that would probably cause the partial collapse to become a full collapse. Not a good idea.

Another tremor tore past deep within the earth below, and the young woman grasped two support beams in her hands. "Get me out of here!" No need to fake distress, she was pretty sure she was about to be flattened into a very unappetizing pancake. Still no audible sounds from outside, she could only hope the so-called 'rescue party' had done their job in stirring the military into getting their armor clad butts over here.
__________


The ground rumbled with more force than could be attributed to the explosion Roy had heard earlier, and before he could brace himself, it intensified further. He heard Armstrong's offer of support too late, felt his feet scrabble against the trembling ground for balance, then he landed on his back, his right arm bouncing off a wall that was sprouting more cracks as the ground beneath it rippled. A smirk tugged at the edges of his lips even as he clutched at his throbbing arm to keep it from getting jarred further. Any lingering doubts that this wasn't going to work evaporated as the ground continued to shake beneath him.

"Sir!" Armstrong's voice caught the attention of Riza and Jean and they abandoned their posts to pick their way towards the array, steadying themselves along the building's walls. Roy struggled to right himself, paused when he realized he wouldn't reposition himself in time, and caught the larger alchemist's gaze.

With a pang of regret that still didn't overshadow the feeling of rightness, Roy yelled over the ever-strengthening chaos, "You've got to open it!"

"Yes, sir," Armstrong replied, immediately dropping to one knee.

"Not yet!" Roy ordered before the man's hands had reached the circle. "Wait for it..."

"Wait for what?!" Jean hollered just to be heard as he and Riza arrived simultaneously on either side of Roy. "We need to get out of here!"

"Hold on..."

"Don't be an ass," Riza yelled, tugging at his good shoulder with all the strength she dared to keep them both from toppling over.

"I'm not--" Roy stopped mid-protest and closed his eye. The alley and the array, Alex, Riza and Jean, even the trembling ground seemed to fade away. He felt more than saw the Elrics -- they were so close -- Ed's watch dug into his thigh, and a suffocating curtain of dread, of imminent danger for the boys, dropped over him.

 "Now!"
__________


Central Oklahoma

"Wrong place?!" Ed shouted, more to be heard over the rumbling of the ground and the mayhem of the agents. "What the hell do you mean? I thought we'd pinpointed it."

Al lurched to his feet, helping his brother up, and as he stumbled past, grabbed Ducky by the arm with his other hand. "It's not like finding a Gate is an exact science, Brother. We're close, just off by a little bit."

The earth chose that moment to become quiet and the three young men found themselves quickly surrounded by goons with guns trained on them. A brief glance past the shoulder of the agent directly in front of Al gave him a view of Reilly about to leap from the side-door of the van, but Tom and Hughes each grasped a shoulder to hold her back -- not that she could have gone anywhere; half the feds were pointing weapons at them, as well. He heard the hammer of a gun being cocked with a resounding click, and he, Ed and Ducky all raised their hands. Al's gaze slid to his left, meeting the hardened gold of his brother's, then came forward -- once again past the agent in front of him -- and locked onto the stares of both Hughes and Tom. He saw the subtle shift in both of them, and knew they were reading everything just as he was.

The raven settled quietly on the roof of the Ninjavan, ruffled his feathers once, then became perfectly still.

A woman in a dark suit, with a pale, flawless complexion and even lighter blonde hair came around the van. "I think it's time to stop this foolishness," she said. "You're not going anywhere, but back to headquarters with us." She stopped just outside the ring of agents and centered her attention directly on Ed. "You're well and thoroughly caught." Gesturing behind her, she added, "If you don't want your friends to be disposed of, I'd advise you two boys to cooperate."
__________


Rush Valley, Amestris

The moment Armstrong's hands touched the edge of the chalk line, the rumbling ceased and the array flared to life. "Yes," Roy breathed, watching the pale yellow light illuminate the alley as it expanded to fill every last arc and rune. He allowed Riza to help him up without looking away.

Behind him, Jean whistled low. "Boss, I really think we should consider relocating..."

Roy dragged his attention away from the array and followed Jean's gaze up. The cracks in the alley's buildings had widened considerably, and even he had to admit that some areas looked decidedly unstable.

"Sir," Armstrong questioned from his spot on the ground, "is this... I don't know what...."

"You're doing fine, just keep the connection open," Roy assured him, though he could see the doubt hiding beneath the faint twitch of mustache. He refrained from acknowledging what Alex was offering. If he had to -- if the other alchemist couldn't hold it alone, he'd risk it. For Ed and Al's sake -- even for Winry's -- he'd try and join an active transmutation being held by a man that he respected but had never even tried sharing an array with. It wasn't the sort of thing one did lightly. Honing the ability to perform alchemy in the first place took such a solitary, personal investment; joint transmutations were usually saved for teaching purposes in only the earliest parts of a student's training. Finding two alchemists who were both temperamentally compatible and strong enough to support each other in a single successful transmutation at any level of complexity... well, the Amestrian military would have found a way to make shared arrays part of the State Alchemist's job, if it weren't for the demonstrated risks. Roy had no desire to spend the rest of his life a drooling vegetable.

He shook his head once, "Too late for that now."

"But how will I know that it's working?"

As if waiting for Armstrong's cue, a faint tremor shuddered underfoot, much gentler than the previous onslaught. They waited for it to die out, but it remained, and slowly began strengthening...
__________


Central Oklahoma

Al felt more than saw Ed's weight shift, just a fraction. His brother said nothing, and made no move beyond the slight brush of his automail hand across Al's, which told him Ed was ready for a real fight. Those who didn't know Ed very well were intimidated by his tendency to scream and pound on whatever was handy when frustrated -- but Ed wasn't actually dangerous as long as he was still yelling. It's the silence you have to fear, Izumi had taught them. Animal and man alike stalk and kill in silence.

Al didn't need to fake his trepidation -- if anyone moved just wrong, this could end horribly -- and he hoped that the woman in front of him read his grasping of Ed's sleeve and Ducky's arm as an instinctive move toward comfort. Al was, after all, the youngest among them. With a defeated sigh, he sagged, pulling on Ed's sleeve a little before letting go, and tightening on Ducky's arm. Okay, Brother. No rules.

Then the ground started to tremble again, and all hell broke loose.

Al dug his fingers into Ducky's bicep, twisted, and threw the squawking hacker into the nearest agent, hurling both to the dirt in a tangle of arms and legs. He continued his turn, using his left leg as a counterweight, and slammed it into the weapon hand of the agent who was still watching Ducky scuffle in the dirt. Al heard the crunch of bone and figured at least two fingers were broken, but he had no more time to contemplate it as two more agents came at him from opposite directions.
~*~*~*~

At the same second Al threw Ducky, Ed launched himself forward and delivered a right-handed jab with a metal fist. The shock of impact stung hard in Ed's shoulder, but the punch shattered the agent's face shield and crushed the nose behind it. The sound of breaking bone and the cries of the agents weren't something Ed enjoyed, but these bullies had forced him and his brother into a corner. Ed threw a kick that broke a breastbone and sent a man down, probably with a punctured lung, then snapped his body aside and used the oncoming attacker's momentum against him, slamming him into the heavy rear doors of the van. "You guys want to fight? All right, I'll show you how we fight where I come from!"
~*~*~*~

Al heard the hiss of air before he caught the glint of edged steel. Maes Hughes' green eyes shone cold and hard for an instant, then he was gone as Al reflexively twisted and caught a charging man with a knee in the stomach. He heard the sound of metal buckling as he spun, glimpsed Tom slamming someone against the vehicle with enough force to dent the side, then wrench the agent's arm back hard enough to tear ligaments and tendons. Al twisted and jammed the fingers of his right hand into the exposed throat of a body lunging at him, gun lost who-knew-where, claw-like hands poised to grab. The agent lurched back, stunned, coughing and gasping for breath in a panic as he stumbled onto Ducky. The hacker, who'd just disentangled himself from the first agent, yelped and went down again.

Ducky shoved the dead-weight off and glared at Al, who had just enough time to shrug a half-hearted apology. Then Ducky's eyes widened and gave Al just enough warning to skip aside as a gun fired and the bullet rang off the van's dented side. Edward, his face contorted in a feral snarl, came down on the shooter's shoulders an instant later, and Al knew with a sick certainty that the man was dead before he hit the ground.
~*~*~*~

Reilly heard a high squeak as another man with a gun charged the driver's door of the van, and belatedly realized that she'd been the one to utter it. Someone moved into the gunman's path, shoved a fist in his gut -- and he fell, stumbling against the door. Hughes pulled the blade clenched between his fingers out of the man's body, took a step forward and slammed the bloodied blade into someone else. Not five feet away, Al -- gentle, sweet Alphonse -- kicked a masked man in the face and calmly turned, catching another man by the arm and throwing him down. The younger Elric dropped to a knee for a second, punched the downed man in the throat, then bounced up in time to catch his brother's right foot at just the right instant to throw Edward into an acrobatic move that left an afterimage on Reilly's retinas of flying blond hair hanging upside down well above the level of the van's roof. Tom lurched into view, and the hold he had on his enemy-- Reilly heard a shriek -- again her own. Tom glanced at the van, and frowned. His mouth opened, and Reilly wasn't sure whether she heard him or just read his face. Either way, the words were "Get down girl!" Some part of her realized that that was a very good idea.
~*~*~*~

The ground continued its muted rumble as the five men stood in a loose circle amid black-clad bodies: panting, bruised, scraped, battered and splattered with blood -- some their own, most of it not -- with the blonde agent in the middle. Her cool exterior had melted to reveal a terrified, bewildered human woman. To her credit, she kept trying to bring the world back under her control. She aimed her gun with shaking hands at first one, then another of the men surrounding her. She pivoted around and pointed her gun at Ed. "Y-you're coming with me."

"I don't think so," Ed said, evenly.

Hughes took a step, and she twisted, the gun targeting him. "Stay back!" Keeping Hughes in her gaze, she snapped her left arm out to the side, at Ed once again. "Another step and I'll kill him right here."

"I thought your orders were to take us alive," Ed said. His voice was low, and dangerously level.

She glared at him, then. "They are. But you're far too dangerous." She cocked the hammer back on the gun. "My primary objective is the safety and protection of this country." She steadied a little, and wiped at the sweat rolling into her eyes with her free hand. "You're not even entirely human. I don't know what you are or where you came from, but..." She trailed off, searching for something that made sense, something that would fit. "I-I can't take the risk."

She was focused on Ed, and neither Al nor Hughes had given her the least cue -- so the tap on her shoulder startled her and she spun -- only to be met with the full force of Ducky's fist. The gun hit the ground as her eyes rolled up and she landed with a soft thump in the dirt. The fierce anger on the normally good-natured hacker's face brought the Elric legacy into sharp relief, as he leaned over the dazed woman and ground out, "No one messes with my family... bitch."

The van's engine roared to life, startling the raven. Hughes and Tom dove in through the side door when Reilly kicked it into gear and spun the tires. One agent had managed to get to his feet -- one arm hanging limply at his side, the other stretched out and pointing a gun at the windshield -- only to be clipped by the corner of the van as Reilly aimed it at the array. She didn't stop as first Ed, then Ducky dove in -- even sped up as Al leapt inside. She never braked as she spun the wheel, fishtailed, and charged through the trees, wrestling the wheel to keep control in the wild woods and uncertain terrain that shifted and bucked with the quaking.

"Where the hell are you going, ya old hag?!" Ed screamed as she mowed down rangy bushes and tall weeds, barely avoiding a tree that was right in the path. "We've got to get to the Gate!"

She barely glanced into the rear-view mirror and asked, "Al, was he hit in the head out there?"

"No, but he's seen the business end of a wrench more than once," Al said as he yanked his brother down into the back seat, aided by the rough terrain. When Ed started to sputter, Al calmly said, "Just shut up for a minute Ed, and let me play. Miss Reilly knows where to go."

Dawn broke across Ed's flushed face, and Al saw him remember that Reilly could 'feel' the Gates.

"Oh. Oh yeah." Ed lurched back up and hung over the back of the seat in front of him, over Ducky's shoulder. Hughes grabbed his right shoulder to push him back, and Ed actually gave a little, his face going white. Still, with the fight over, he reverted to normal and harangued Reilly. "You crazy old bat! Why the fuck didn't you say something earlier?!"

"My theories are bullshit, remember?" Reilly responded through her teeth. She drove with hands clamped like vises to the wheel.

"Just sit down, Ed," Hughes told him, shifting his grip and pulling him back. Ed let out what might have been a huff of impatience, had it not been for the tensing of his back and shoulders.

The van hit a bump that threw it into a moment's free flight, then slammed it back down into the underbrush with a jarring crunch that yanked him up into the roof, then threw him back into his seat next to his brother. Al snickered and said, "See? Even the earth wants you to sit down, Brother."

Ed scowled and rubbed his head, then pointed at the flute in Al's hand. "Just play, already."

Al giggled again, took a deep breath, then began. This time, the music came effortlessly as the notes wove through the fabric of reality, stitching a tapestry that reached somewhere deep into the incorporeal realm of otherwhere.

Answering his call, the tremors increased and the forest was instantly alight with a warm yellow glow. Reilly spun the wheel violently, nearly tipping the van over and tossing most of the passengers around like salad greens as she fought to keep the vehicle upright in the increasing temblors and headed for the source of the light. The tune Al played warbled and only briefly hesitated as he fell into his brother, but nothing could yank him from the thrall of the music that spoke to the Gate.
__________


Rush Valley, Amestris

"Do you hear that?" Roy asked.

"The rumbling, yeah," Jean replied with a snort. "Kinda feel it, too--"

"No... the music," Roy exhaled, bringing stares from Jean and Riza as they came to the realization, not for the first time, that their superior tended to pick the worst moments to go insane.

And with a sickening crack that everyone did hear, the buildings around them began to fall.

Roy didn't think; he moved. Across the array, Armstrong did the same. Dropping down to his knees and ignoring his protesting right arm, Roy slammed his hands on the chalk line at the precise moment Armstrong released his own hold. Amidst the rush of energy that coursed through his system and whipped at his hair, he saw Strong Arm stand with a fluid motion born from a lifetime of practice, one hand dipping into a pocket to emerge encased in a metal gauntlet.

As Alex rammed his fist into the closest wall in an attempt to protect them from the falling debris, Roy had an instant to worry about two powerful transmutations in the same place at the same time. The thought was quickly forgotten as he struggled to rein in the energy surging through the array. It had destabilized in that instant of changeover... no, it hadn't, Roy realized as he fought to bring the sheer power under control. It hadn't destabilized; it had just grown exponentially stronger.

The ground outside the circle cracked and heaved, and Roy took one last glance around before closing his eye to all visual distractions. His last image before completely surrendering to the force of the transmutation was that of a ring of columns Armstrong had created to reinforce the buildings. They all bore a striking resemblance to their creator, straight down to the bald scalp and chiseled (literally) physique.

 Well, Roy thought, allowing himself a moment of amusement, at least we don't have to decorate for the homecoming party.
__________


Central Oklahoma


"Ohshitohshitohshit!" Reilly shrieked, as the Ninjavan burst out of the woods into a clearing. She planted both feet on the brakes to bring the vehicle to a skidding stop amid complaints from the jostled passengers, then stared gape-jawed up through the windshield as a vary large shadow passed overhead.

"Damn," Tom muttered, craning his neck to gaze after what had caused the shadow, and both Hughes and Ducky were up, leaning over the front seats, following suit.

Ed left Al playing as he squeezed between the center seats and irritably elbowed his way through the press of bodies in the tight space, practically crawling up on the doghouse to see what the fuss was all about. "This isn't the time to be sight--" His protest died on his lips as he saw the helicopter hovering overhead -- just out of range of a golden whirlwind whipping the trees in front of them. "Don't these idiots know when to give up?" he asked no one in particular. As he watched the helicopter clawing for position above, he pointed forward and said, "So just go! They can't stop us now."

"Go... where?" Reilly stammered, staring straight ahead.

Ed levered himself up more and leaned forward. That was when he saw it. "Goddammit!" he exploded as he pounded his metal fist into the dash, cracking it in the process. Reilly had stopped barely in time to avoid launching the Ninjavan over the edge of a ravine that looked to be about 50 feet deep and at least twice as wide. And hovering horizontally within that vast empty space, was the Gate.

They saw the muzzle flash from the chopper just before they heard the report and ducked simultaneously as bullets peppered the ground around them and the roof of the van. Armor piercing rounds tore through the sheet metal, sending flakes of paint and fluff swirling into the already-battered interior. Reilly slammed the shifter into reverse and floored the gas, backing the van into the uncertain safety of the trees. Panicked and unable to see out the back, she yanked the wheel, and swerved into an enormous old oak with a deafening crunch and screech of metal. The tinkling of broken glass punctuated the silence.

Al's music had stopped.
__________



Rush Valley, Amestris

A violent concussion heaved through the earth, threatening the swaying buildings. Nervous eyes rolled upward to scan the rocking structures. Armstrong's statuesque reinforcements seemed to be doing their jobs however, and the giant alchemist grunted in satisfaction as another tremor nearly threw him sprawling but didn't disturb his handiwork.

Nearly lost in the maelstrom of light and wind, Mustang crouched, sweat beading across his forehead as he battled to hold the roaring energies from exploding out uncontrolled. Even so, bursts of purple lightning and static discharge rocketed from the epicenter -- impacting against concrete facades and showering the plaza with rubble.

Three soldiers running toward the explosion at the edge of town skidded to a stop as they passed the mouth of the alleyway and gaped at the chaos within. In spite of the obvious danger, the soldiers had edged closer, drawn by the mesmerizing whirl of color and light. "Get back!" Alex bellowed as he caught sight of them, his voice harsh in the dust-filled air. At Armstrong's warning, the men retreated.

Turning back to the storm of power, Alex had no time to dodge as a finger of electricity whipped from the core and licked down his arm in a body shuddering surge. Teeth clamping, his limbs jerked before a force like a giant hammer smashed into his chest and drove him into the base of one hastily built statue.

The wind howled and drove the sand into a furious grinding whirlwind as Alex Louis Armstrong, Strongarm Alchemist and scion of one of Amestris' few remaining noble families, slid down the granite surface of a statue and shaded his eyes with one thick arm. His eyes picked out a huddled mass that might have been Havoc and Hawkeye, crouched and clinging to each other in animal, unreasoning terror.

No matter how he strained his eyes, he could not see any sign of Roy Mustang.

Up above, a pinpoint of shadowed light steadily began to grow.

Then another quake struck, and with a horrendous deep CRACK, the stone behind him began to move.
__________


Central Oklahoma

"AL!"

Reilly heard Ed's horrified cry from a long tunnel, and felt herself being pressed back against a soft surface. Warm hands brushed her hair from her face and she blinked. Something was in her eyes and her head hurt, but she couldn't comprehend why. And then she remembered: helicopters... a rain of bullets... trying to get out of the line of fire. She jerked upright, or tried.

"Easy, easy!" Tom's soothing voice broke through her panic. "You got yourself a nasty bump on the head, girl."

"Al!" she heard Ed choke somewhere behind her. "Al, talk to me, please? Wake up, dammit."

Reilly blinked again and was able to focus on Tom with one eye closed. "Wha...?"

Tom glanced up, past her right shoulder, and she could hear Ed fretting somewhere behind her. "So now what?" he asked.

Reilly gazed out through the windshield, at the burnished glow of the Gate in the ravine. Was the light growing dimmer?

"Whaddaya think, Tom? We gotta jump it, and we'd better do it quick," Ed snapped.

Reilly shook her head. "There's no way we can--"

"I can do it," Ducky said solemnly.

Reilly twisted around in her seat, the very idea shocking her system back into full awareness. "Are you nuts? We'll be killed!"

Maes Hughes had been crouching in the space between the middle seats, examining Al. Without turning, he said gravely, "We're all dead if we stay."

The ground rumbled and bucked, and they heard a loud crack and groan of the van-wrapped tree giving warning. "Whatever we're gonna do, we'd better do it now!" Ed shouted.

Ducky's hand came down on Reilly's shoulder as trembling fingers gripped it in an attempt at comfort. "I can do it. Trust me."

Reilly swallowed, then nodded. With help from Tom, she relinquished the driver's seat to the hacker. She settled into the middle seat as Tom took the one next to her. Ducky was without a co-pilot, as Maes shifted and wedged himself against the street-side wall of the van and wrapped around Ed, who cradled his unconscious brother in his arms.

Ducky pulled a pair of cheap sunglasses from his shirt pocket and slipped them on. "It's 106 miles to Chicago," he said, shakily, as he turned the key to restart the van. Unfortunately, the engine merely whined and didn't catch. "We got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes," he continued as he tried again -- and again, the motor complained, but didn't come to life.

Tom peered through the window next to him, and said, "Uh, Ducks? Think you can just get this thing going?"

"I'm working on it! I'm working on it!"

"Now would be a good time," Tom insisted.

And that was when Reilly heard it... the sound of something breaking through the trees. Like some pissed-off, lumbering olive drab beast, the military-issue Hummer, complete with a wedged blade attached to the front, tore its way through, shouldering saplings to the ground and snapping bigger trees at the base. Then it burst onto clear terrain and it sped up, snarling as it charged for them. Tom leaned over and wrapped his arms around Reilly's head, blocking the view of her oncoming demise.

Then he fell on top of her in a screech of stressed and torn metal as the van teetered precariously on two wheels, tumbling both of them to the floor. Reilly held on to him for dear life as the van screamed and protested and fell back onto four tires -- and through the space between his side and arm, Reilly could see the side door shudder and buckle back as the Hummer reversed, readying for another run at them.

"Our Lady of Blessed Acceleration, don't fail us now!" Ducky yelled over the din, and suddenly she could hear the strain of the Ninjavan's motor as he floored the accelerator, but the vehicle only spun its tires -- the back bumper was still wrapped around the tree.

...And the Hummer made another run at them, slamming into them, tilting them again. The impact broke hinges weakened from the wreck into the tree, but didn't succeed in flipping the van over. As the big green monster backed-up once more, Ducky crowed and the van lurched forward, leaving the back doors behind with an agonized scream that seemed almost alive, along with the bench and bits of litter and detritus. Then the tires grabbed, the Ninjavan gathered speed and barreled toward the rapidly dimming light of the portal.

Dimming... fading... disappearing so fast without Al able to play and keep the Gate open. Reilly knew they'd never make it. They'd plunge over the side into the abyss and that would be the end of it. She squeezed her eyes shut, tears escaping as she clung to the man who was more father to her than her own, and wondered if it was going to hurt when she died.
__________


Rush Valley, Amestris

He was waiting. Earth and air and power surged around him, rasped in his tortured lungs and burned every nerve in his body. But he had to outlast it, to fight the storm and the raging earth, for just a little longer. They were close, their closeness was all that mattered. They were coming home, and he would be waiting to greet them. Just a little longer.

Alchemic fire ripped up his spine, and he knew he didn't have much time.
__________


Central Oklahoma

No one spoke, which was just fine with Ducky, since he really didn't need a distraction as he concentrated on fighting his self-preservation instinct. He'd spared a glance over his shoulder when the van tore free of the tree, noticing that the box he'd welded to the floor at Redfeather's was the only thing that remained at the back -- the doors, the seat and any loose objects were gone. Hughes was wrapped around the Elric brothers, Ed holding Al tight against his chest. Reilly and Tom had wedged themselves between the remaining captain's chairs and the front seats, clinging to each other. They were all together, at least. With that, Ducky clenched his fingers around the wheel and kept his view straight ahead.

The engine complained, the ruined and loose side door rattled and banged against its twisted latch, the wind whistled through the bullet holes that had turned his cherished mechanical friend into Swiss cheese, and the helicopter tore at the air overhead. In the eerie timestretch of adrenaline-fueled clarity, Ducky wondered why the chopper wasn't firing on them, and why that monster Hummer wasn't giving chase, but the edge of the ravine was approaching, and that whirling, spinning light coming from the Gate floating in space was dimming from bright yellow-white, to gold, to orange, as the maelstrom in the center grew smaller and smaller, and he tried to push the accelerator down more, but it was already pressed against the floorboard and wasn't going any further. Ducky forced his eyes forward, refusing to glance down at the speedometer, because he feared if he did, he'd realize the van just wasn't going fast enough to make the jump and he'd chicken out.

Then with a stomach turning lurch, the tires lost the ground. The engine grumbled and hesitated and revved, then the van nosed over into a dive. The last thing Ducky saw before his eyes slammed shut was a blur of black feathers and claws as the raven batted his window, then dove into the rapidly constricting portal.
The End...?












< br>








--Creative Credits--


This project would not have been the huge amount of awesomeness that it was without the help of -several- people. Some are still active in the group, others have moved on, and still others are semi-active in a different capacity than before. All-in-all, this was the greatest, funniest, silliest, most insane group of people I have ever had the privilege to lose my mind with. Thank goodness it's not really over! Please give kudos and cyber cookies to --

 ladyamber (Writer, Who insisted that this was a good idea) -- aliasheist (Writer, Who's creation of the vilest bad guy ever caused a plot to be dropped in our laps) -- ladyeldaelen (The sneakiest Writer/Artist of twisted fluff ever) -- dragonnan (Artist/Writer, who is also indescribably and delightfully insane) -- nebroadwe (The Writer/Editrix who wielded the Red Pen o'DOOM) -- roaming_fool (Writer, and the occasional Voice of Sanity among the nuts) -- kashicat (Writer, and Goddess of the tear-jerker) -- mfelizandy (Writer, who came in on the tail-end of the project, but will be sticking around for more!).

And then me: fractured_chaos (Head Story Coordinator and Writer). I can only sit back in awe when I contemplate just how wonderful it has been to be a part of this project, and I cannot take credit for much, really. The wonderful ladies listed above were the backbone, the blood, sweat, tears, heart and soul of this.

And You, our treasured readers who stuck with us through the delays, the stalls, and the really strange twists and turns. I bow to you, too.



Thank you,

 fractured_chaos aka, Lorrie Harris - January 20, 2009





--Announcement--


"So there it ends, with a beat-up van plunging toward a collapsing Gate.



...or maybe not.

You didn't really think we'd just leave it like that, did you?

So far, there's been gunplay, alchemical explosions, doppelgangers, automail-related mayhem, computerized geekery, and the revelation of what Ed did while we weren't watching him.

We're now plotting Arc Two, "Balance of Power:Eden Gate". At the moment, we've scheduled more computerized geekery, some character cameos, more explosions, quite a bit of traveling, more mayhem, bad puns (those are mostly my fault), and some ripoffs of the Indiana Jones movies. Then things really start to get out of hand.

We've restructured and are going to be more organized about getting the next however-many chapters finished and posted. Again, we're going to keep this to mostly PG-13 with the occasional soft R scene (at least in the official story -- I make no promises about the crack-fic that will almost inevitably show up).

Where was I? Oh yes! We're also recruiting new writers. Qualifications include a high tolerance for deranged plots and fractured logic, willingness to take criticism and editing of your prose graciously (and the desire to return the favor), and an excellent command of English spelling, grammar, and punctuation. If you want a taste of what you'd be letting yourself in for, come visit us at our message boards (http://fracturedchaos.proboards83.com/index.cgi< /font>?) , which are now open to the public. (Well, except for the parts that would give away too much about the plot!) Want to get our attention? Draft us your idea of how the Mustang/Hughes reunion will go! Write up the scene in 3000 words or less (I know, that's hard, but we have to set a limit somewhere), then email it as an RTF-formatted attachment to chaos.fractured@gmail.com. We'll pick the best entries and offer up to five authors a spot on the writing team. Deadline is March 1, 2009. Happy writing, folks!" -- mfelizandy


Oh, and if you want some idea of how convoluted things are going to get, go and check out Our Special Sneak Previewfor "Balance of Power: Eden Gate"!: http://community.livejournal.com/c_b_s/13021.html

--Disclaimer--


Fullmetal Alchemist (Hagane no Renkinjutsushi) was created by Arakawa Hiromu and is serialized monthly in Shonen Gangan (Square Enix). Copyright for this property is held by Arakawa Hiromu and Square Enix.All Rights Reserved