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There came a day, several weeks after the fight with Father had wrecked a good portion of Central, when Roy needed some fire. This was the fifth armload of papers Hawkeye had dumped on his desk, and the morning had barely begun. Being Fuhrer wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. So, always one to rise to the occasion, Mustang waited until his subordinate had left the room, presumably to get another stack of the damned paperwork, and he pulled his ignition gloves from his pocket. He hadn’t had any opportunity to do alchemy since Father’s demise, and he’d hardly been in any position that day to enjoy it.
Boy, was he going to love watching this burn!
Smiling wickedly, he snapped his fingers. A spark hovered momentarily at his fingertips, then faded out. He snapped again, concentrating harder. That ought to have been enough to blow away half of his desk, but still nothing.
He was still snapping when Hawkeye came in with the sixth armload.
“Colonel,” she sighed in exasperation. “Do you realize how much of a mess paper ash makes? It floats everywhere --”
She stopped and stared at the snarling colonel.
“Um, sir, are you okay?”
“Does it look like I’m okay?” he spat, standing up at his desk. “Does this look ‘okay’ to you?” He reached out and snapped his fingers in her face. She merely raised an eyebrow at him, not relinquishing her grip on the paperwork.
“Something’s happened!” Mustang shouted, beginning to gesture wildly. “Bring me some new gloves!” He resumed his frantic snapping with both hands.
“Sir, could you please do that outside the office? What if it decides to catch all of a sudden?”
Abruptly Roy slammed his hands down on his desk; Riza realized he probably hadn’t heard a word she’d said.
“I’ll bet Fullmetal had something to do with this,” he growled, grabbing his trenchcoat and striding toward the door. “I’ll bet he knows exactly what this is about!”
--
Ed really didn’t have any idea what hit him. One moment he was sitting quietly at the foot of Al’s hospital bed, watching his little brother sleeping peacefully for the first time in years, and the next moment, he was a foot off the ground, eye-to-eye with a very angry Mustang.
“What the hell did you do, Fullmetal?”
Ed flailed, wishing he had something more solid than flesh and bone with which to hit the colonel.
“Have you lost it, Mustang?” he shouted. “Al’s sleeping! So SHUT UP!”
“Not any more,” said a soft voice, and they both looked over to see Al rubbing sleepy eyes with a bony hand.
Mustang felt vaguely self-conscious under that quiet gaze, so he let his grip on Ed loosen. Fullmetal landed on his feet with a thud, but he was immediately ready to continue the fight.
“What’s wrong with you, colonel?”
“Wrong with me? You tell me -- you did it, after all!”
“Did what?” Ed asked, fists on hips. Mustang had officially lost it this time.
“This.” Roy did what he’d kind of always wanted, at some times more than others, to do: he reached out and snapped his fingers under Ed’s nose.
The boy yelped and jumped backward, falling onto the bed and Al’s feet. Edward glared up at the colonel, the fact that nothing had actually happened passing him by in the heat of the moment.
“You jerk!” he screeched, voice high with barely-concealed outrage. “You coulda killed me!”
Giving in to his impulses, Mustang reached out and did it again, just for kicks. Ed clapped his hands together and hurriedly slapped his right forearm, but with no result.
“Wha--” he began, then grimaced.
Al leaned forward and grabbed his brother’s shoulder, shaking him until he paid attention. “His alchemy isn’t working!”
“Huh?” Ed stared at his younger brother for an uncomprehending moment.
Al gestured toward the colonel. “Well, it’s either that, or it’s too damp in here.”
“What are you talking about? It’s not damp in... here.” Realization finally dawned in golden eyes and Ed spun to face Roy. “You,” he stated, pointing his finger accusingly. “Your alchemy doesn’t work!”
Roy had to fight the urge to facepalm. “Correct, Fullmetal. Now, could you please tell me why?”
Edward blinked, realized he’d said ‘huh?’ too many times in the last several minutes, and settled for a blank stare. “So you assume, just because something goes wrong, that it’s my fault?”
“You’re the usual suspect, so I figured it was a safe guess.” The colonel shrugged. “Just tell me how to fix this and I’ll leave you alone.”
Ed looked at Al with a half-terrified, half-guilty expression that he quickly concealed with a fake smirk.
“Okay, so Mustang’s useless. Al, could you do me a favor?”
“What is it, brother?”
“Transmute something. Anything.”
Al shrugged compliance, clapped his hands, and pressed them to the edge of the bed. Nothing happened. He frowned and tried again, on the blanket, the pillow, the bedside table. Finally, exhausted, he fell back against the pillow, staring at his hands.
“Hmm.” Ed got up and began pacing.
“You wouldn’t do anything to your brother,” Mustang mused aloud, “so something bigger is going on here.”
The Elrics looked at each other from across the room.
“No way,” Ed said at last, looking away. “Not possible.”
“What’s not possible?” Roy growled, feeling the desire emerging to pick Ed up again and shake him.
Just at that moment, there were footsteps outside the door and Riza burst in, carrying a manila folder and clipboard. But the real surprise came when Hawkeye, who wasn’t prone to excitement, shoved the papers unceremoniously into his hands.
“Sir! You’ve got to read this!”
“No, I don’t. I’ll let you tell me all about it.”
The look she gave him would have withered a homunculus, but Mustang wasn’t in the mood to back down.
“Fine.” The lieutenant cleared her throat. “Over the last few weeks, I’ve been receiving calls from all over Central that alchemy isn’t working any more. I thought maybe it was only the area affected by Father, but I looked into it more and found that it’s everywhere. It seems like this is a problem through all Amestris.”
“No kidding.” Mustang slumped onto the foot of the bed. “Any idea what caused it or how to fix it?”
“No, sir. You’re the alchemist, so I thought you might have some suggestions.”
“Oh.” He thought for a moment, listening to Ed’s continued pacing. “Fullmetal? Does your alchemy work?”
Ed stopped and stared at him with... was that hate? “No, colonel,” he said finally through gritted teeth. “My alchemy does not work.”
Roy remembered Ed’s sacrifice and stopped himself just short of apologizing, and instead turned back to Riza.
“We need to get more information. Find out if this is affecting the military, too.”
Hawkeye nodded and looked through some of her folders. Mustang put his head in his hands, but stiffened into alertness upon hearing Ed murmuring something to Al.
“What’s that?” He stood and loomed over the boys.
Ed fidgeted, hesitating, and scratched his head.
Al was the first to speak up. “It’s just an idea, but you know how brother gave up his Gate to bring me back? Truth dissolved the Gate, so he can’t do alchemy any more.”
Impatiently, Mustang nodded.
“Anyway,” Ed interrupted, “what if there wasn’t a Gate, but the Gate?”
Mustang was about to say that he didn’t see the point of arguing semantics, when suddenly he did. “You mean you traded away the Gate for ALL OF AMESTRIS?!”
“Well...” Edward replied faintly, “there is that distinct possibility.”