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Ed woke with a jump as the brakes were quickly applied. He rubbed his neck, feeling groggy from emerging from a light sleep so quickly, before noticing his door being held open by the blonde sniper. He nodded his thanks, and stepped out, seeing the grandeur of the building the Soviets had so recently evacuated to serve as Marshall Zhukov's Headquarters.

The Polkovnik lightly tapped his arm and led the way.
"Come on... I have to be getting back to the war."

They walked inside rapidly, narrowly avoiding runners carrying messages from the divisions assaulting the city, all the time passing Pravda writers and other journalists, or Foreign Attaches from America, Britain and France. Soon enough though, a large double door swung into view round a corner, and the two NKVD Guards stood aside after checking their papers. The sniper stayed outside, talking to the two guards while he and the Polkovnik went through.

The Marshall nodded at them to take a seat, while shouting down the telephone at General Rokossovsky. Since Vatutin's death on the Polish border in '44, the command staff had been becoming slightly more hostile to one another, and no more so than between Zhukov and Rokossovsky. The Polkovnik grimaced, hearing his division being named, hoping that the high command would stop changing orders so often.

"...And don't forget about Manchuria while you're at it, idiot!" The Marshall slammed down the phone, cutting off the General's retort. "If I hear one more gripe from him..." He turned, while the Polkovnik quickly saluted, and Ed gave a curt nod.

"Now... You represent the second of my biggest problems today. The NKVD has been harrying me to take you into immediate custody, but the boss wants to see you as soon as possible. You would not believe how long Beria and the NKVD have been looking for you."

Ed looked evidently shocked. "How can they have known about me all this time?"

"You came to the attention of two spy-rings, Mr. Elric, as part of ongoing research into the Thule Society's work. I don't care if you don't come from this continent, or even this planet, myself... but for some reason, our leader's love of the occult has led him to you."

"Why did you spend so much time looking for me when you have a war to fight?"

Zhukov leaned back in his chair slightly, resting the back of a pencil on his chin thoughtfully. "I obviously cannot divulge that information for a number of reasons, but... let's just say some closed cases have recently been opened again."

Ed stood up, gritting his teeth in determination to find out what was happening. "What closed cases?"

**

She was slowly kissing his forehead, while he rested his head on her shoulder, running his hands along her back. She cooed to him quietly, talking to her lover in a hushed whisper.

"Brigadeer..."

Why so formal, Riza? Aren't we both in l...

"Goddamit, Mustang, WAKE UP!"

Roy opened his eyes with a jolt.

"I leave you in this supply alcove for five minutes to scout ahead and you fall asleep. How the hell do you expect to become the Fuhrer?!"

A solid lump formed in Mustang's throat. He thought she would have realised he gave up on that aim during those two years he spent while he was in the North. It was time to say something he had been putting off for six months.

"I'm sorry."

"You have to stay alert: we have no clue where we are or what is going on, sir..."

"No... I'm sorry about everything. I should never have left."

For a brief second, she thought about how much she had yearned for him to say it, how the absurdity of waiting for him to come back, not to wound her, to keep that flame burning that they had both shared after Archer had nearly killed him, had kept her from dragging him back to Central herself. But the second passed and the fury returned.

"Save your confessions for a temple. My only concern is to keep you alive, due to some persistent sense of loyalty that just won't die."

She walked past, eyes peeled for any danger, despite the tears she felt brimming.

**

The chanters looked around, confused. Why hadn't Groebel returned? They were overdue to start by a good three quarters of an hour. The senior enchanter looked at the corpses of what had once been red-eyed and dark-skinned refugees, but were now broken by the power of the magic they had unleashed. Suddenly a loud crack resonated through the hall, startling the enchanters as Baglaitkommando troops ran to take up defensive positions. Someone was coming, and it sure as hell didn't sound like Groebel.

**

Falman straightened up, gripping the piece of cheese tightly in his hands as if it was his last meal. It had only been a couple of hours since the transmutation had brought them here, but the sprinting and the loss of Fuery had all taken their toll on their strength. He devoured the piece, before taking the mug of water and draining it too, ignoring the stench and taste. This area of the city must have run out of fresh water a while ago, he surmised.

Winry walked over to the three soldiers calmly, patting Havoc on the shoulder. As the soldier nominally in charge of Fuery's protection, he seemed to be taking his loss the hardest.

"Maes told me about where we are. He doesn't seem to know us, so I can only assume that he's... another Hughes. I know, it doesn't make any sense to me either, but stranger things have happened."

The others nodded, taking stock of what she told them. Falman's head was soon reeling. This wasn't Amestris, or even the same planet. They were in the middle of this world's largest war and right at the heart of what was probably one of the biggest battles in history. Humour, as always, was the best defence.

"Any good news?"