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The Price of a Life - Chapter 10

Title: The Price of a Life Fandom (s): Fullmetal Alchemist/Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood Summary: I always thought waking up in another world would be a lot more…interesting. At least slightly exciting and terrifying, but it really wasn’t. It was more of a sudden and underwhelming event, that landed me in the company of fiction and its ignorance to modern physics. I thought it was a dream. Boy was I wrong. Characters: SI/OC, Maes Hughes, Edward Elric, Alphonse Elric, etc. Rating: PG-13

I awoke to a beeping sound that was slow, steady, and repetitive. I must have slept through my alarm for work. I shifted in the bed, a sharp pain shooting up from my hips. I must have been planting yesterday, as my knees too were sore and my back ached.

I yawned and tried to roll onto my uninjured side, the blanket over me wrapping itself tightly around my legs so much that I had to return to the uncomfortable position of my back. I sighed loudly through my nose, my sister's voice ringing out impatiently.

"Irish, Irish," She repeated in tandem with the alarm clock. I thought nothing of it until I tried once more to roll over and the pain in my hip began to burn. Mary never called me Irish, she was the older sibling who always used my full first name when addressing me in annoyance. I opened my eyes slowly, allowing them to adjust to the light.

I expected to see the familiar ceiling of my room, with those glow-in-the-dark stars and dream catchers scattered above my bed, but I was only met with an empty, well lit ceiling. That was even more odd than Mary calling me Irish. I started to push myself up, but my arms gave out under my weight making me fall back to my bed with an elegant plop.

Just when I thought I was going to fall back into an enchanted and pain free sleep, I heard someone arguing nearby. Normally this wouldn't have caught my attention, given that my younger brothers were always arguing over something, but this voice was deep, and angrier.

When Matt, Brian, and Aiden argued, they were never the kind who got upset with each other over their disagreements. Matt, despite being a walking mountain of puberty, still retained his high squeaky voice. So, it couldn't have been them who were arguing. I tried to listen to the words that were muffled by the door, but I could only catch snippets of the conversation.

"She...witness...long enough...wrong-"

"...are...we...can...soon."

The first voice sounded vaguely familiar, and putting the pieces together, I realized this wasn't my room, and the beeping beside me was a heart monitor. With my new revelation, the beeping sped up as anxiety overcame me. The thoughts from the previous night came back in a rush of cold terror, my hands shaking and cold sweat dripping down my forehead as I tried a few feeble breathing exercises to calm down.

Everything was going according to plan more or less, and the only problem at the moment was that I was once more in a hospital. I tried to look around the hospital room to see if there was anyone else there. Seeing no one, I once again picked myself up, my right side and leg hurting so much the world spun for a moment as I adjusted myself so that my back lay against the headboard of the bed. The room was still very blurry, on account of my missing glasses and the disorienting bright lights, but I could make out an IV drip hooked up to my left hand and a few chairs to my right.

The door creaked open and I jumped, even more light pouring in from the hallway making it near impossible for me to see who was making the dark silhouette against the light. A clipboard clattered to the ground as the figure was pushed out of the way by another man who quickly approached me. A softer pair of footsteps followed, a quiet voice murmuring an apology before joining Mustang at my bed side.

"Irish, I need you to tell us what you know about Hughes' disappearance, time is of the essence," The dark eyed man snapped, looking down at me with no hint of sympathy or concern. My eyes widened and I shrank away from him, the suddenness of the inevitable interrogation startling me from my fantasies of sleep.

"Sir, with all do respect she just woke up-" The figure from the door, a doctor perhaps, said nervously.

"Shut up!" Mustang growled, clearly on edge. I didn't know if I could lie to him when he was like that, he simply radiated frustration and pure hate. Riza placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Sir, please calm down," Surprisingly, the Flame Colonel sighed and crossed his arms, allowing Riza to stand closer to me. Her betrayed no emotion, though I knew she must have been feeling the same urgency her superior did. "Irish, I know you've just woken up and are recovering, but if you can tell us anything about the other night it would be appreciated." I stared at her blankly, my hand slowly reaching up to my head to feel a sharp pain at the back of my head where it crashed into the phone booth's door. I looked down, feeling sick as I recalled the events.

I zoned out for so long the doctor soon asked if Hawkeye and Mustang could leave. Riza looked up from me and shook her head at Mustang, who's glare seemed to bore a hole through me before his shoulder's sagged in defeat and he motioned to Riza to leave. I couldn't let them think Hughes was alive. That was the deal.

"Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes is dead," I murmured, Mustang quickly returning to my bedside with Riza in pursuit. I could feel warm tears of stress beginning to well in my eyes, but to the two attending officers, I hoped they seemed to be tears of sorrow.

"That's what you told Private Braun," Riza said softly, though in no way trying to affirm the statement. I whimpered and rubbed my eyes.

"She told me to tell you that," I squeaked, sniffling. I had little to know idea how to convince these people that Hughes had been killed, so I decided to play off the canon story where they believed Ross had killed him. Of course, there would be no names mentioned. Riza said something, but I purposely ignored the question. "Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes is dead," I repeated.

"Irish, focus. Who is 'she'?" Riza asked, playing the good cop for this interrogation. Truth probably knew that I'd be facing a bad cop sometime in the near future. I shook my head, grabbing fistfuls of my hair in feigned frustration.

"I...I don't know," I sobbed, the heart monitor next to me picking up its pace as my breathing quickened and tears flowed. "I don't know,"

"I believe that's enough for today, you're going to make her condition worse, now please get out, she needs rest." The doctor advised, Riza looking to Mustang for an order. He looked at me coldly before nodding. The two left and the doctor called upon some nurses for aid in replacing my bandages and removing the heart monitor. I felt as if I was going to be sick as I slowly calmed down. It was a difficult feat after how worked up I had gotten myself.

I leaned back against the headboard as nurses seemed to swarm me, checking my pupils for dilation and using stethoscopes to check my breathing. I closed my eyes and started thinking about my plan to convince them that Hughes had been murdered. Of course there came the morbid thought of convincing them that I had murdered Hughes, but none of them would think that, of course.

From what I had collected from the nurses and doctors, I had been there for only two days, thus explaining the lack of a feeding tube when I awoke. The investigation of Hughes' disappearance was ongoing, but it had a pessimistic outlook.

It was being kept quiet, and I wasn't even sure if Gracia had been alerted of her husband's sudden and unscheduled departure. They could have told her he was on urgent call in the East somewhere. I was so worried about her and Elicia, mostly because Hughes could be anywhere and/or dead and they had no way of knowing he was (hopefully) safe from the country's impending doom. But I couldn't tell them. I needed to keep the feelings of hatred and sorrow genuine so that key people would make the correct key decisions.

I had woken up in the middle of the afternoon apparently, the day after the guards found me. After a check up from the doctor and many different nurses, the room was finally empty and I was told to rest. As if I could rest after what I had just been through. My leg and side were killing me, the fresh bandages stinging with alcohol and disinfectants.

I wanted to cry, or get sick, or just fall asleep, but I couldn't. I had put all of my trust in Envy, and the entire plan hinged on him keeping his word. I didn't trust him, but I didn't really have a choice either. It was all Truth's fault that it hadn't gone according to plan. If the entity hadn't pulled me to the Gate to stall, I would have been able to follow through with my original plan. Hopefully it saw that stalling hadn't changed the end goal, at least not too much.

The door opened unexpectedly, causing me to jump with fright. The pain that ensued was enough to sharpen my consciousness for the inevitable interview. Instead of an impatient and angsty Roy Mustang and his ever calm and collected Lieutenant, I was greeted with the stone like faces of Henry Douglas and Captain Focker.

Of course, those names came after a curt introduction. It took me a few moments to recognize Douglas' later connection to Ross' arrest, but Focker was relatively recognizable.

"Good evening, Miss. Irish, I am Colonel Douglas and this is Captain Focker." Douglas said as the two approached my bed side. Focker had a note pad and pen in hand. "We'd like to ask you some questions about the night of Lieutenant Colonel Hughes' disappearance. Is that alright?" It humored me that the man even bothered to ask permission to interview me, a key witness to a crime.

I gave a numb nod, allowing myself to stare aimlessly into the distance to enhance the shell shocked look I was hoping to achieve. Douglas opened a folder Focker handed him, and began to read.

"At 19:00 you were observed by Private Müller entering the Investigations Wing of Central Command. Upon your exit, at 03:00 she reported despite your injuries, you ignored her presence, took a moment to see the first telephone stall, before exiting the building to travel just short of 400 meters where Officers Wundt and Lange discovered you. Does this sound correct?" I couldn't believe I had gotten that far away from the building, or the time frame for which I had been with Truth in the Gate, but it seemed accurate nonetheless.

"Yes," I said, my voice still hoarse. Focker made note of this. Douglas closed the folder.

"Can you please begin by telling us what occurred between the hours of 19:00 and 03:00 please?" I looked down at the question, but spoke nonetheless. I had not even considered my alibi, and although I had no doubt in my ability to bullshit the entire story, I was cautious to avoid plot holes.

"I was going to the Archive room. My friend - Reginald Azir - he had been teaching me Amestrian history, and I wanted to continue studying while he was hospitalized. But I got lost. I eventually found the bathroom and figured someone would come by who knew the way - at least to the exit, because I guess I dozed off while I was waiting. 2nd Lieutenant Maria Ross found me and directed me to the Archive room," I paused, my eyes blank and my hands shaking as I recalled Lust's face and all of the blood that left small crimson puddles in and around the Archive room. " W-When I got there...there was so much blood...everywhere...so much blood-"

"Did Ross not escort you to the Archive room?" Douglas said, interrupting my self-induced panic. I looked up and shook my head, sure to make eye contact.

"No, she just gave me directions and left, in the exact opposite direction." I said, cracking my knuckles out of nervous habit. Focker copied my exact words.

"Did you not come upon any other officers?" I shook my head, looking down again.

"No, actually. It was as if they had all gone home for the night. The halls were rather deserted." Douglas nodded his head sagely, waiting a moment for Focker to copy down the statement.

"So, you are at the Archive room. Do you enter it? Is there anyone in there?" I felt goosebumps rise on my arms, courtesy of the drafty window, not fear or shock.

"I-I did go in, just a few steps to see if someone in there needed help. But then the door was closed behind me, and someone came at me..." I trailed off,having my hand drift to my right hip as I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment. They wanted a story, so I might as well give them one. "The lights were out, and I didn't see who it was. I got out somehow before they could come at me again, but they said...she said, 'Lieutenant Colonel Hughes is dead,' as I ran-"

"Do you know who 'she' might have been?" Douglas asked tentatively, as if he were poking a sleeping bear.

"No...maybe...no? I didn't recognize the voice, but it was definitely female. On the higher end of the spectrum, but kind of throaty." I shuddered at the recollection of Lust's voice. "I just ran. I don't know how I found the front desk, but there was a trail of blood in front of me, and I assumed it must have been Hughes'. I...I don't remember Adele saying anything to me...to be honest I was kind of tunnel visioned at that point, just following the blood trail without thinking really..."

I trailed off, as if recalling that isolated feeling. In reality, I was pondering how the next few scenes would (logically) play out.

"Did you stop at the nearby telephone booth?" Douglas asked, gauging my reaction. I clasped my twitching hands together, and hiccuped as I focused on the pain at my side to force some tears from my eyes.

"Yes," I whispered, thought it was close enough to be classified as a whimper. Focker whispered something to Douglas. They still needed more information from me.

"Miss. Irish, I know this is difficult for you, but what did you see at the telephone booth?" Focker said, his deep voice trying to sooth my soft sobbing. I swallowed and quickly stopped the tears, wiping them with the back of my right hand. It was bandaged, the knuckles sore and raw from the pummeling I had delivered.

"T-There was...someone there, with a gun, standing outside." I hiccuped, folding my hands once again. From the feel of them, the burns had nearly healed, but the stinging alcohol on my knuckles had replaced the tight, red skin. "And there was someone inside; t-they had been s-shot, they were on the ground - like sitting, but as if they were asleep."

I struggled to find an eloquent way to word the image I had formed in my head, but the combination of what they could perceive as a limited Amestrian vocabulary and trauma could easily explain the chunkiness of my sentences.

"Did you see their faces, either the person in the booth or the shooter?" I bit my lip so hard it drew a small drop of blood.

"No, not the shooter...I was blindly following the trail of blood, and they pushed me into the booth's frame after yelling at me," I ran a hand through my hair and felt the sizable bump at the back of my head. "I don't remember what they said, the voice was...feminine, but it sounded different, younger perhaps. I-I fell down and saw who had been shot, they were dead...Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes was dead. The person - the shooter - placed the gun to my head," The hand that had been at the back of my head traveled to my left temple. "Here, they told me to tell people that. To tell people that Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes is dead."

I stared ahead at the foot or my bed blankly, allowing my hand to drop back into my other.

"What happened after that?" My shoulders drooped slightly, and my eyes went back to my bruised knuckles.

"The person left...they took Hughes with them. They picked him up like, like, child? No, like bride," I held my arms up to mimic the often cited bridal style. "I almost fell asleep, I was very tired...I lost a lot of blood. I started hitting the ground - I don't know why, I was angry and upset and it kept me awake. It took a little while to get back to my feet, but when I did I tried to follow down the path - the direction they took him. I didn't get very far before those officers found me...I was so tired...and - and frightened," I sniffed, my voice cracking. "I just wanted to...to switch places...I wanted to be the one who had been killed. If...If maybe I stopped and got Adele's help...then maybe we'd have reached him in time..."

Tears ran down my face inconsistently but fueled by emotion. I was internally chastising myself for not being a little faster, to maybe save Hughes some mental and physical trauma.

"You just get some rest ma'am, our investigators will find Lieutenant Colonel Hughes," Dauglas reassured, though he sounded quite grim as Focker copied down the last pieces of my account. I looked down, my breathing labored and hands shaking.

"Good day, Miss. Irish. Thank you so much for your time," Focker added as the Colonel began to exit the room. He placed a hand on my shoulder, trying to comfort me. "Do not speak to anyone about this matter, at least not until we can straighten out what happened."

He quickly followed his superior, notepad of my story under his arm. I yawned, remembering how tired I still was. Although they had taken me off of liquids, I still was hooked up to some type AB negative blood. How on earth did they figure out I was AB, let alone negative?

I laid awake in the early morning hours, nothing but the blood mystery to occupy my thoughts. When I tried to inquire with a nurse, she responded negatively, unsure who had determined which blood to use as a replacement. It was around 11:00 when I remembered AB could be donated to anyone - a universal donor to quote Ms. Shake from freshman year - and I was being paranoid for no reason. Unfortunately, the worry and concern had given me a horrible migraine.

A knock at the door only served to irritate my aching skull.

"You have a visitor,"

"Big sister Mac!" Elicia cried, running to my bed and jumping onto me. I gave a short gasp of pain when she forced me to shift my weight so that my right side couldn't be favored, but I still managed to smile.

"Hey kiddo," I croaked, my voice hoarse and foreign to my ears. Gracia also entered the room, but much more slowly than her daughter. Immediately I felt the sober atmosphere around the woman, her eyes not nearly as bright and a smile only barely visible upon her chapped lips. I also felt a pang of fear at the sight of the woman, who had held a gun to Hughes' head.

"Look! Look! 'member Mike and- and his present? See! It's a horsey!" The girl giggled, oblivious to my condition as she produced the sloppily transmuted brown object that vaguely resembled a donkey. She was also unaware that I hadn't consciously attended the party, but that wasn't for anyone to know. "His arm was hurt, but then he made it for me out of the floor! Isn't that so cool?"

"Yeah, it is," I managed, trying to clear my throat but instead inciting a coughing fit. Gracia lifted her daughter from my bed and placed in her in one of the nearby seats.

"Let's give Irish a little space, okay sweetie?" Gracia said, her voice devoid of its usual peppiness, and her chiding not as motherly but more demanding. I worried about changes the loss of her husband would have on her, if she had even been alerted of his probable death. This change in her could have merely been caused by a lack of information from the military was providing her. Mrs. Hughes sat down in the chair next to her daughter, closer to my head. "How we doing?" She asked quietly, placing a hand on my shoulder.

I noticed her bitten fingernails, and her ever present wedding ring was slightly off-centered.

"I've been better," I said softly, sitting up slowly. This time the world only spun for a few seconds before I could focus on Gracia's sad smile. "And how are you doing?" I asked, searching for any sign of immediate distress.

There was nothing major, just the slight drooping of her eyelids and a momentary frown. It was enough for Elicia to look up at her mother with big, worried green eyes.

"Mommy?" She asked quietly, her voice barely a squeak. "Where's daddy?" I think my heart imploded a little. Gracia, however, immediately brightened up at the comment, ruffling Elicia's hair.

"Why don't you go outside and say hi to Sergeant Brosh? You told me his little sister was at the park with Mike the other day. What was her name...Agnes?" The little girl's worry evaporated. And, it seemed I was saddled with the babysitting duo once again.

"Okay mommy," She said with a laugh. "Aggy said her big brother was the best, just like big sister Mac is the best!" I think my heart melted a little at the cuteness, but more than the adorableness of her exit, was the cold fear of the reason for her dismissal.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked to Gracia, who held her smile until the door closed, muffling Elicia's greeting to the Sergeant. The door closed without hurry, cutting off the warmer lights of the hallway, leaving us in the solemnity of the cold white lights above.

"I haven't been told much, and I doubt you have either but," I felt tears prick at my eyes as the strong, independent mother before me started to fall to pieces. "They think," She paused a again to hiccup and attempt to stem the flowing tide of tears, "They think that he's dead,"

The last part of the sentence was a barely audible gasp of pure sorrow that turned my melted heart into a twisted knot of regret. I let a few tears run freely down my face, not tears of sorrow but those of pity and we wept for a few moments of near silence, before Gracia seemed compelled to collect herself.

"I-I wasn't allowed to see you until they were convinced you had told them everything...They haven't," She took a deep breath, trying to wipe away the tears, "They haven't told me what happened, or what they think happened..."

Remembering what Focker had told me, I looked down, almost ashamed that I had to withhold this information from her.

"I'm sorry," I said, looking not at Gracia but at my battered and bandaged right hand. "I'm so sorry...I-I should have...I wish-" Suddenly a pair of strong arms wrapped around me, holding me tight. I hadn't realized the tears flowing down my cheeks until now, when I buried my head in Gracia's shoulder.

"Oh, Irish," She said, her tears now stopped and voice holding steady, "I'm just glad one of you is alive, I'd be just as upset if it were you in his place, and wishing it were wouldn't change anything. I love you too," She released me slightly, holding me shoulders as she looked at my face. I ignored the pain from my side the best I could, but a few tears of pain and regret still slipped through. "Now, get some rest, get better, come home. Elicia is getting bored without her knight to help her defend the castle."

I hiccuped, and gave a small chuckle. Gracia stood up, and took a card from her purse. "Feel better, I'll see you tomorrow," She left the room, sounds of Elicia's exuberant retelling of her trip to the park seeping through the cracked door for a brief moment before silence returned, only filled by my own breathing and the hum of the lights.

It was quite simple on the front, simply stating 'Hope you feel better' in a flowing font reminiscent of a Hallmark card. I opened it to quite the surprise. Elicia had drawn her family, and myself, standing in front of the apartment building.

Gracia, made distinct by her light brown curls held Elicia's hand, the smallest human stick figure. Maes, creepily similar to my previous stick figures, held hands with his wife and myself. I was drawn with white crayon, only distinguished by the waxy sheen on the paper and the red dots of my eyes. Over the complex was a sloppy rainbow, and a childish sun smiling down on us. It took me a moment to notice the equally invisible ferret that was at my stick figure-self's feet.

Gracia's clear, cursive handwriting signed her name, along with a curt 'Get well soon,' whereas Elicia had attempted to and partially accomplished to sign her name, most likely with the aid of her mother.

I was moved to cry again, realizing that I had come to love the people around me as much as they loved me. Instead of crying, I smiled, and closed the letter. Holding it close to my chest, I closed my eyes and eventually fell asleep.

I woke without any knocking or whispering this time, the quiet of the room allowing me to cling to the last remnants of the dream I had the night before. I had been home, with my family, but there was no gravity - or at least something that made everything and everyone float around like balloons. I'm pretty sure Thomas Hiddleston was there too - or maybe some other famous actor, but the dream faded too fast and with few sticking details.

It was nice to wake up on my own, left to my own thoughts and some temporary privacy. Yawning I placed the card from the Hughes' under my pillow, amazed it had survived the night without a wrinkle or crease. After a few moments of lying there motionless, I began to envy my morning routine back at the Hughes residence.

I'd get up on my own by at the latest 7:00, 4:30 being the norm for both school and work back in my world. I would bathe, dress for the day, eat breakfast with Gracia and Elicia - sometimes Maes if he was running late for work. By 9:00 I would be at the Main Street Grocery Store, the first costumers and morning deliveries groggily arriving. I missed the smell of throwing out bad eggs and bad milk, and other items on the non-refrigerated shelves that had expired.

I rolled over, happily freed of the IV by a nurse a few moments after a quick inspection by a doctor. My leg was feeling better, and by the doctor's assessment, I could be on crutches today, and walking on my own at the end of the week. I didn't know if it was Sunday or Friday, but it didn't sound like too long to bear.

Today I was supposed to start testing my limits - with a nurse present to observe and assess my progress. According to the doctor - I never caught his name - she'd be by sometime after noon. The nurse arrived at 11:00.

I was sitting in my bed, left leg to my chin as I observed the wound. Most of the heavy bandaging had been removed, leaving only the stitches. The scars would be small, at least for the puncture wounds, whereas the longer scratch would leave a fainter but longer scar.

To the nurse, who opened the door without knocking, I must have looked quite strange with the waist of the pants outstretched so I could inspect the wound. It was probably more embarrassing for me, or at least it felt that way. The woman took no note, almost ignoring me entirely to make sure the door was shut tight behind her. Suspicious? Yes.

"Are you the physical therapy person?" I asked tentatively, though the woman's violet eyes turned on me like daggers and answered my question. "Oh, no wonder you're early..." The woman - well, Envy I guessed - crossed her arms and leaned against the door.

"You are incredibly inconvenient," He growled, his voice only a few notched higher and more feminine than normal. I shrugged, though my heart rate and stress had definitely increased in the homunculus' presence.

"So I've been told," I said, my words faltering slightly as the disguised Envy made his way from the door to my bed in few strides. The woman he was impersonating had really long legs.

"I don't know how a pathetic human like yourself knows as much as you do, but you do," Envy stated, gripping the end of my bed. "How?" The question hung in the air for a few moments, almost a moment too long.

"I already told you-"

"The Truth does not give information that liberally, much less specifically. And from the looks of it, the price you paid was a small one, so there is no reason for you to know as much as you do without other means. Tell me how." I was actually surprised how worked up the homunculus was - had I been too aggressive after all? My mind raced for a moment, only able to focus on his mention of my exchange with Truth.

"Prove to me Maes Hughes is safe," I stated as coldly as I could, somehow keeping my voice steady. "And I'll tell you what you want to know,"

"How can I prove-"

"Prove it, or I'll take the liberty of snuffing out a sacrifice," I interrupted, secretly terrified that Envy had gone back on his word. Considering how much freedom he actually had to kill Hughes, I worried the homunculus had known about my bluff all along. The artificial human hesitated.

"The human is safe, the pathetic thing. I have the ticket stub from the train somewhere..." The homunculus changed back into his normal form, sure to see that the blinds were closed before small bolts of crimson lightning danced around the nurse's body to become more masculine and much paler.

"I never took you as the sentimental type, Envy," I hummed, feigning endearment. It disgusted him, which amused me.

"Here," Envy barked with a snort, his voice dripping with revolt at the thought of a human admiring him. Which of course wasn't the case with me, I was just as scared and hateful of the artificial human as when we first met. I snatched the tickets from his hand gingerly, afraid he might have some trick up his sleeve. Not that he was actually wearing sleeves.

The two ticket stubs were for one two way trip and a one way trip to Bumecu. I could only speculate where Envy had gotten the money to pay for the tickets. I raised an eyebrow at him and set the stubs down at the side of my bed.

"Did he get across the border?" I asked, still skeptical of Envy's honesty. The personified sin sat at the end of my bed and sat with his legs crossed.

"Yes," He spat, annoyed by my distrust, "I escorted him to the border myself, we got to Olma, a town a few kilometers from the border where I left him at a hotel and told him to stay. It's not my fault if he didn't," I nodded, unintentionally sighing with relief.

"So, what do you want to know?" I asked, after what was a clearly agonizing few seconds of quiet for the impatient homunculus.

"How do you know-"

"If you're going to say everything, I'm going to stop you right there. I don't know everything, I'm not Truth, how could I know everything? And I already told you, I made a deal with Truth," I said, ignoring Envy's growing irritation.

"Yes but it's not - ugh, you shouldn't know so much for such a small exchange! And you shouldn't know such specifics like what happened in Ishval or Greed-"

"Oh, did he get melted yet?" I asked, once more interrupting Envy. He gave me a look that told me that asking if Greed had been 'melted yet' was impolite at the least. "Sorry, it's just - I've been in the hospital for Truth knows how long, and I just don't know the time frame in which it happened so I'm a little out of the loop as far as time goes,"

Haha, both figuratively and literally.

"Yes, Greed was 'melted' as you put it, inconsiderate human," I rolled my eyes at the insult, I had better things to worry about.

"Okay, did someone see you guys leave the park and stuff? How did you cover your tracks? As of know, he's believed dead. A formal declaration and service should follow soon if the investigation runs dry," I inquired, aware that a messy job by Envy would make my own much more difficult.

"I don't think anyone saw us, no. We kept to the shadows and alleyways until we made it to the river. I dumped his clothes in the river, and then we got to the train station, bought our tickets, waited until 6:00 for the first train, and left, okay?"

"Where did you get him new clothes?" I asked out of curiosity, when I should have been more concerned about who they may have come in contact with at the station.

"I stole them, of course, some drunk guy. He won't remember us when he wakes up in that ditch, that's for sure." Had I really expected a different answer? "And what's it to you? You only asked me to get him out of the country,"

"Well, I assumed it was in our mutual best interest to smuggle him out of the country without attracting the attention of military investigators, nice touch of throwing the clothes in the river by the way," I said, hoping that was what had sealed the deal for the investigators. If only there were some piranhas or other flesh eating creatures in the river to cement the idea of Hughes' death. "Are you sure no one of importance saw him at the train station?"

Envy, ever irate with my questions rolled his eyes.

"Of course not, and if someone did, Wrath would take care of it," I bit the inside of my cheek. Of course the homunculi would underestimate Mustang's persistence. "Now, about what you know-" I clicked my tongue at him.

"If you're going to call my exchange 'unfair' then you clearly are only concerned with what is skin deep," Wow, that actually sounded kind of cool. Envy didn't seem as impressed with my eloquence as I was.

"What did you trade? Some worthless memories, perhaps your pathetic human conscious?" I snorted and crossed my arms.

"Well, considering I have a perfectly good memory and I do feel bad about hitting you the other night, no. Why does it concern you what exchange I worked out with Truth?" I expected Envy to fume about this, but he seemed confused abut something. Had my English eloquence failed?

"You regret that?" He asked, surprising me with the lack of hostility in his voice. Did I regret pummeling Gracia Hughes' gorgeous face into a bloody pulp? Yes. Did I regret hitting Envy? Maybe. I admit it had felt good to vent my anger at him, but in hindsight I felt what I could assume was the normal human response to hurting another human being - guilt.

"Uh, yeah, sure. I mean, you're alive, I'm alive. You're kind of human, I'm human; am I supposed to feel happy about hurting someone?"

"I do," Well, no duh Envy, "You're probably only feeling bad about hurting a wonderful creature such as myself,"

"Oh, yes, I feel awful about harming a face as adorable as your own, you lovely crocodile,"

"Why thank-" He caught the hint of sarcasm in my voice, "You little, miserable brat-" The door opened, revealing a very surprised Reginald. It was a good thing Envy could shape shift so quickly. The nurse giving him a look that would have killed quickly drove him from the room.

"I'll...give you a minute," Reggie said unsurely, closing the door. I gave Envy a smirk of triumph. I was glad not to spend a minute longer with the freak.

"Well, I'll see you later alligator," Envy turned his deadly glare on me.

"We're keeping tabs on you, Miss. Irish," The feminine voice was sickeningly sweet, enunciating my name. I had never told Envy my name, but with the homunculus' resources it mustn't have been too difficult. "Stay away from the Fullmetal Alchemist," Envy took long strides to the door, looking back at me to make sure I got the message.

"If it were up to me, I'd stay as far away as possible from the pipsqueak," I said, remembering Reggie was right outside the door, followed up with a curt, "Thank you ma'am," Envy avoided eye contact with Reggie as he quickly exited the room.

With his exit, came Reggie's entrance. It was nice to be in the presence of a real human for a little bit.

"Did I interrupt something?" I laughed, as did he. Reggie was standing on his own, and wearing street clothes instead of his uniform. His arm was barely noticeable, since he was wearing a jacket over the collared shirt.

"No, she's was pissed at me for messing with my stitches," I said, smiling at him as he sat on the bed next to me. "And how are you? You look fit as a fiddle," Reggie smiled, subconsciously placing a hand on the sleeve where his arm would be.

"I'm doing better, I was discharged from the hospital the day you came in actually - you won't believe the trouble I had getting the Sargent and 2nd Lieutenant to let me visit you," I nodded - they hadn't met Reggie at all, "I actually have tickets to Rush Valley, the train leaves tomorrow morning," I stole a peek at the blinds, the noon sunlight glaring down and not entering the room, "I was hoping you'd come with me, but, in the state you're in-"

"Oh, crap. Did I ever give you the money? I'm not sure how much they'll charge when you get there - remember to look for the perky blonde - her name's Winry Rockbell, she knows me. If I can't get the money to you - or if they won't wait for the money - just be persistent, Winry's a sweetheart but it takes a while to persuade her to do something if money is on the line," I slowed my rant, noting the hint of sadness in Reggie's eyes. "Did you ever finish those codes I gave you?" This seemed to help him lighten up a bit.

"Yes, actually, I've gotten quite far on the 'Four-Score' one. Where'd you ever come up with that by the way? It's actually quite an interesting speech," I shrugged, thinking back to the nonexistent village of Ire.

"It's like the creed of my village back in Drachma," Reggie nodded, though he didn't seem entirely convinced.

"Your village must be very...open minded," He commented, to which I responded with a huff of feigned annoyance.

"How dare you insult my heritage! May the great Utka damn you to the seventh circle of suffering!" I said dramatically, doing a sign of the cross and bowing my head with clasped hands. Though I was merely joking, Reggie seemed to take it seriously.

"S-Sorry, I didn't mean to offend," I gave him a weak shove.

"I was joking, Reggie. I'm not some Bible-thumping grandma," I said, reaching for and not finding any of my necklaces. A moment of internal panic passed with the realization that I would just have to wait. They were probably being held with evidence or something.

"Bible? Is that your scriptures?"

Ah, yes. Back to the good old times of my first year in public school - a radical display of Catholicism! Does your father make you wear dresses? Are you not supposed to talk to boys? Are your brothers and dad sexist? Do you hate gay people? The answer of all of these was no, but I was still the strange religious girl who was ridiculed for saying grace before lunch. Freshman year was quite the learning experience, at least in terms of adapting to fit society's expectations of a lunchroom.

"The Bible? Yes, but don't ask me to parrot it back to you cover to cover. Priests go to school for a decade or more to do that, not me." I said, though it came out more harshly than I intended. "Are you religious?" I asked tentatively, hoping I seemed as innocently curious as I really was.

"Not really, Amestris isn't exactly a theology hub. Most people believe more in science and proven fact - not to offend your religion or anything, it's just the cultural attitude here is a bit different."

"I get it, and to be honest, we have as much faith in science as we do in our religion. We try to strike a balance between the two; to me, science is a byproduct of our divine creation to be curious and inventive. I'm no priest, so I can't say what their view of it would be, but that's what I believe." I rubbed my bandaged hand, having brushed it a little to hard against the bed. "This theology shit is boring, have you decided on the model you want? Personally, I think going for a higher percentage of chrome - Winry said it'd be less resistant to rusting, but the downside is that it's weaker."

"I was thinking about this one," Reggie pulled out the automail advertisement I had given him on the first day after his surgery. The model in question was glorious and sleek in design and color, a dark grey metal with silver fittings. Though, I bet Winry could make the same thing, but better. We talked about the models and the money to pay for them - I hadn't given him the money, so begging or his own money would have to suffice.

"Miss. Irish," A familiar voice called from the door, startling me for a moment. It was the nurse Envy had impersonated, but with bright brown eyes instead of cold purple ones. Reginald had to leave.

"See you, hope you get to Rush Valley safe and sound Reginald!" I said, giving him an enthusiastic wave as if he were boarding the Titanic - but, you know, without the whole sinking and dying part.

"See you, Irish," He called back as he exited the room. I sighed, looking to the nurse who immediately began to run me through the summary of the physical therapy. A nervous Denny interrupted before we even got started with the simple flexion exercises to help me regain full hip movement.

"The Fuhrer wants to speak with you," He glanced behind himself. "Now,"

Masterlist

#fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #si/oc #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #bbb writes #bbb #bluebookbadger

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