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He could hear Ed even before the door opened with a kick. Roy sighed – saying that he felt relieved was an understatement – and caught similarly relieved gazes of his subordinates. Fuery was already radioing Breda to call off the rescue mission.
“Missed me, old man?” Ed said, the tone of his greeting missing the mockery that was usually embedded into it. He was a bit too pale, his automail hand in scratches, and judging from the way Ed was holding it – barely functional, his forehead fashioning a nasty looking gush. But alive. Alive, probably thanks to kid’s stubbornness or maybe sheer luck? Or maybe, there wasn’t even a reason for Roy to be worked up so much, after all. Maybe the kid did engage in a fight or two with insurgents, and then simply did not bother to report back to Roy that he was alive? If that was what happened, then Roy would personally make sure that Ed would end up on a latrine duty for the rest of his life, or better would have to finish all this paperwork that Roy amassed now, as he sent so many of his men and women to search for Ed.
Four days ago, when Roy’s spy network had reported that Ed and his brother were seen engaging in a fight with insurgents and then simply disappearing in that backwater town where they were researching yet another lead on the philosopher’s stone, Roy barely held the urge to march to that Southern town to personally retrieve Ed and Al or, at the very least burn every single building in that town to the ground until someone told him about his subordinate’s whereabouts. He couldn’t do it though. An only witness to the fight, an illegal immigrant from Xing who was working in an equally illegal bar couldn’t come forward with her testimony, nor could Roy disclose how he found out and then why on earth he had a personal spy network, and how he was connected to all the illegal bars that that the network consisted of. He wasn’t able to come up with a mission in that shitty – unremarkable, godforsaken, idiotic – town that didn’t have anything of interest for two alchemists to investigate. Even Hawkeye couldn’t go, having to run some shitty drills. So they had to sit back and spend all these excruciating four days, waiting for any new titbits of information, just for the kid to appear in front of him as if nothing happened.
“You were supposed to report at 9 in the morning, Fullmetal,” he said, his voice a bit too warm, his mask of annoyed indifference cracking with all the “I was a shit ton worried for you, kid” that remained unsaid between them.
Ed’s gaze diverted to somewhere in the distance, the kid clearly being distracted by something. He waited, as if thinking, and then, as if coming to a certain conclusion, he took something out of his pocket and tossed it at Roy.
He reflexively caught it and sighed when he found out that it was a coin. With its middle missing, judging from its uneven borders – pinched by a bullet.
“Remember?” Ed asked, sounding impatient. “Hansen’s History of Alchemy? The only issue with the first version of the notes?”
Roy’s hands curled into fists against his will, as he darkly thought that the kid was probably practicing sharp-shooting – for that stupid bet in that idiotic provincial town – while he was running a whole-blown off-the-books military operation just to make sure that Ed hadn’t died in a fight with some stupid backwater insurgents.
“The bet?” Ed said as the silence lasted for a bit too long, quietly and just with a bit of shame in his tone, and then, as if putting a mask on. “Although I know that old people forget about the stuff like this sometimes.”
“When I said that you’d get Hansen’s notes when you’re mature enough to handle a gun,” Roy punctuated, noting how Hawkeye shoot him a warning gaze – oh, she knew then that Hansen’s original notes were coded in… well, erotic stories that were not age appropriate for Ed or anyone for that matter. “I didn’t mean that you’d get them once you learn how to shoot.”
“I need them, bastard.” Ed sounded just a bit too brash, just a bit too rude, just off. There was a desperate aura around him, and clearly this wasn’t because he couldn’t get his hands on some useless notes written in something that could only be classified as porn.
“Need to talk,” Ed finally said, almost crumbling under his gaze, looking scared and alone.
“Well, a bet is a bet, then,” Roy sighed, cursing the paternalistic instinct that he for some reason had for this stupid kid. He took his coat and waved the kid to follow him, inwardly noting how Hawkeye shot him another warning “You will never give this kid a porn book or I will shoot you” look.
Just as his luck would have it, outside, it was raining.
“What?” he asked, navigating the parking lot to find his car. Ed fell behind a bit, dropping something in the priority post box. Ed didn’t answer, just shrugged, and then also procured a big and heavy luggage on wheels, rolled it to Roy’s car and started hauling it into the trunk of his car.
“Care to explain this?” he tried again, waving in the direction of the bag.
Ed didn’t even look at him, now looking somehow more desperate.
“You have to report your fights with insurgents on the same day, Fullmetal,” he said, clenching his jaws, when they were already in his car, driving in the direction of his apartment.
“You knew?” Ed asked, still not even looking at him. “I…” he paused, now looking just like a small, tired child who lost something valuable to him. “Just had to do this. I didn’t have a choice. They… There were so many of them,” his voice finally cracked and hitched, and – that Roy was unsure of – he could see a characteristic glint in Ed’s eyes. The kid was almost crying.
The puzzle was too easy to put together. Too many insurgents. A kid who was way too young to be involved in this shit. Too brave and ethical for his own good. Something probably went wrong. An insurgent getting caught into a pile of rubble from Ed’s alchemic reactions. Maybe even worse – a civilian getting caught in the way. Someone dying. Someone but not Al, or Ed wouldn’t be marching with such pretend brashness into his office. And all he could offer now were empty words just to try easing some of the guilt off Ed.
“It happens,” he said trying to sound warm and feeling unsophisticated and unfit for the purpose. “It’s…” he cursed inwardly. “I know you didn’t intend to.”
“Didn’t intend what?” Ed finally looked at him, somehow surprised.
They were already at his apartment block – it was just a short drive from the Command, after all – and Roy stopped the car.
“Where are we, Mustang?” Ed almost shouted. Just what the hell was the kid so afraid of?
“Wait here, I’ll get the book,” Roy told in response, thinking about all the ways in which he could give the kid a different book instead. Maybe “Folk legends of the Philosopher’s stone”? No, too many false leads. “Alchemic transmutations involving carbon, Volume V”? Clearly useful, but unlikely that Ed hadn’t come across it before. “Military alchemy and practical applications” – the issue with the notes on creating and fixing military tech using alchemy. Clearly not relevant, but still more useful than Hansen’s original notes.
Only now he noticed that Ed was also following him, huffing because he was dragging that oversized luggage back with him. Could he follow at least one order? Just for the gist of it?
“Alright, Fullmetal. You can follow me.”
On the way to his apartment, just as Ed’s shaky steps followed him behind, he mused about the condition he left his apartment in. Frankly, it was just the level of orderliness he managed to keep the last four days. Nothing too bad, just a heap of clothes on the floor, empty boxes of takeout somewhere on the floor as well, maybe a trash bag he hadn’t bothered to take out… What else? A very empty fridge with a few bottles of beer, reports and books lying around, and a lone unfinished whiskey bottle on the table.
No, in normal circumstances, he’d never let Ed be there. But then, just maybe, seeing his apartment would allow Ed to understand that he was human enough for Ed to share whatever bad stuff had happened to him? Roy already had the plan of the conversation in mind when he was opening the door of his apartment.
First, an exchange of insults.
Ed would definitely go in the direction of him ‘being old’ and ‘alcoholic’, seeing the state of his apartment, so then he’d steer the conversation into uhm… Acceptance, was it? Whatever the soldiers were supposed to feel to try to get fewer of these nightmares and flashbacks after a war.
And why on Earth did Ed have to be so young and impressible?
He let Ed in, now feeling the uneasiness around Ed strengthening.
He was missing something. Something important.
“Welcome, Fullmetal,” he said, while Ed was still behind him, dragging his oversized luggage and huffing from the effort. Roy managed to snatch the lone whiskey bottle away. “It’s my apartment, so I really hope you won’t destroy it just like every single building in every single town you are sent to.”
Ed stared at him, looking disbelieving.
“What?” Roy felt annoyance and anger creeping at him, feeling that he needed to burn all these insurgents who clearly did this to Ed – even if by being killed by Ed. “Just say something, Fullmetal.”
Ed gulped.
“Can I get a glass of water, please?”
Roy stared at Ed a bit too long but sighed and went to retrieve water.
Was it shellshock? Something he really needed to worry about? And why on Earth did Ed appear without Al? What if there was something indeed wrong with Al?
He took his glove off, for a second remembering how he had put it on, just an hour before Ed arrived – to burn a letter from some stupid general that implied that no, he had not been allowed to go to the South, and there hadn’t been any reason why he would.
That was when he heard a clap and clacking of alchemy behind him. He turned around just to see walls of his apartment closing on him and Ed – Ed! – lunging at him with a knife in his hands. The second later, he felt piercing pain somewhere in his abdomen as a familiar automail arm knocked him off unconscious.
He woke up to some muffled sounds, and then felt as panic had consumed him whole because he couldn’t move. He couldn’t see anything either, feeling that he was encompassed in something hard and unyielding.
Concrete.
This felt too much like concrete.
Then, his mind started overflowing with the memory of what happened, with how desperate Ed looked, with the knife that was lunged into his body, and the pain that followed after. With the way Ed’s alchemy was turned against him… With the treachery.
Treachery!
He trashed against the concrete once again, but then calmed himself. There must have been something that he was missing.
Or, did he simply miss it that Ed could so easily turn against him? Was he simply wrong?
The sounds outside his concrete trap didn’t make any sense either. Muffled voices, sounds of furniture being upturned and then someone dragging something heavy right from the outside of where Roy was. For a second, he contemplated if he had to alert them about his whereabouts, but stopped himself. The sounds were rushed, and if his intuition was anything to go by, these people weren’t friends.
Ed wasn’t either.
Ed couldn’t have.
There was something else, something he was missing.
And he wasn’t dead, and if the kid wanted him to be dead, he’d be.
The concrete was too unyielding around him, and he felt as if he’d run out of air soon (despite his own calculations that no, he wouldn’t – at least soon). And the kid did attack him with the knife.
He had to stop pretending that Ed couldn’t have betrayed him. He had to be more rational than that and finally accept the betrayal for what it was; his own character misjudgement for the mistake it was and finally, finally recognize that Ed might have been not the person he thought he was, as painful it was to admit.
Then, sounds stopped and he was left alone in his concrete trap. Alone, and – the most tragic part – betrayed.
It took him at least two hours to get out. He was still lightheaded from the concussion – and, even more so, from the fact that Ed of all people stabbed him – and he also was close enough to the concrete wall for him to be wary of a potential rebound. It also took him a long time to actually draw an array with his blood because he couldn’t see anything and because the concrete only allowed limited movement of his hands.
It took him another few minutes to adjust his eyesight to the daylight and then, he could see. His apartment missed a few walls, now fashioning a direct exit to the outside. On the floor, there were stains of blood and no evidence of struggle whatsoever. Outside, just right to the new makeshift exit Ed had so readily created in his apartment, he could see the flashing lights of ambulances and police cars.
A torch flashed in his direction.
“We have a survivor here!” someone shouted.
He walked in the direction of the missing wall, where the voices were.
“We need a medic, he’s bleeding,” someone told next to him. There was a small ladder here, that he promptly took to leave his apartment.
“’m fine,” he said, as medics rushed to him and took him to the ambulance. In the small crowd outside, he noticed that there wasn’t anyone from his own office.
What the hell was happening? Why weren’t his subordinates there?
“Sir, can you please confirm your identity?” a mousy looking MP said. She repeated, when it took him too long to answer.
What if – and it could as well be true, considering what Ed had done – what if Ed had attacked his office in the Eastern command as well? That was why Riza wasn’t here to find him, to let him out of his concrete trap.
The people around him… Were they friends? Or enemies? Why on Earth didn’t he think of putting his gloves on?
“It’s probably concussion,” someone said, as he didn’t answer for some time. Someone’s hands started taking his jacket off, trying to check that knife wound.
He had to check on his office. He had to! His gaze caught his own car, parked there, looking as if nothing happened. It was only a five minute drive to Eastern Command, he reminded himself. These people couldn’t be trusted with their radios and phones, if Ed – Ed! – couldn’t be trusted, he reminded himself.
“Need to go,” he said, escaping the hands checking on him.
“Sir, you are bleeding,” someone tried to reason with him, but he didn’t listen.
“Sir, you cannot leave the investigation scene without reporting first,” someone else told, sounding unsure. He walked to his car and fished out his keys that were thankfully still in his pockets.
“I am ordering you!” someone shouted, sounding frantic.
Roy pressed on the gas pedal.
It took him no more than three minutes to reach the Eastern command. He must have violated every single traffic law in existence but he didn’t care. Not at least until he checked on his subordinates.
Inside the Eastern command, he navigated as fast as he could, as fast as his fast-beating heart and the panic practically encompassing him whole allowed him to – right into his office.
It was empty.
It took him another few minutes to finally find a private who wasn’t fast enough to escape his fury. The guy looked at him as if he saw a ghost. Or maybe he was just scared, because Roy felt murderous.
“Where is my lieutenant?” he enunciated slowly, while his hands curled into a snapping position. The private didn’t look like he knew that Roy needed his gloves for the threat to work.
The private shrieked, breathing fast.
“Lieutenant Hawkeye?” he repeated, his mind racing with all the ways in which that private could be with them too.
“My subordinates?” he repeated.
“Lieutenant B-breda was sent to Southern Province on an assignment, Sir,” the guy said, his voice rushed. “I report to Lieutenant Breda, Sir, so I don’t know about Lieutenant Hawkeye.”
“Please!” the guy pleaded, as Roy’s grip wasn’t weakening.
Roy thought about all the nice ways in which he could get information from the guy – surely, this private was there, he had to know – when he heard the phone ringing back in his office. The phone went straight to voicemail, and the voice was familiar.
Maes!
He let go of the private and went back to his office.
“Please, it can’t be true,” the voice on the other side of the line was frantic. “It can’t be. Please, tell me it’s not. Tell me my sources are lying.”
He stopped, his mind racing with all reasons why his friend was so panicked and sad. Was it Riza? Was it something about her? If so, everyone involved will die. Painfully, slowly, soon.
“Please, anyone?” the voice repeated when Roy finally steadied himself enough to take the call.
“Mustang,” he said curtly.
“Roy?” frantic, on the other end of the line. “Roy! Fuck, I’ll kill you, bastard!”
“Yeah?” Roy said, uninterested. “Tell me what’s going on?”
“Fuck, I was so scared,” the relieved voice on the other end continued. “You wouldn’t imagine! Just the thought of telling Elicia or Gracia. Just the thought… Of you…”
His friend was definitely crying, but it didn’t make Roy feel more compassion for him.
“Tell. Me. What’s. Going. On.”
“They told me that insurgents have your body,” the voice was trying – and not making it – to be a bit more collected. “They told me that they want to parade it… And do all the other stuff with it.”
“My… Body?” Roy repeated, not understanding anything.
“Yes, there was an attack on your apartment. You and Fullmetal disappeared. We started investigating and we’ve got credible reports of them having your body, even… a film with photos of it.”
Roy didn’t answer, so Maes continued.
“I didn’t believe at first but Riza saw the film, and she was furious. I never heard her like that, and I could trust her to recognize you.” Maes paused.
“I’m so… glad it’s not true. You’d never imagine how I felt.”
“I’d kill you if you ever do something like this again. Don’t disappear on me like this.”
“And is Riza now running an operation for retrieving my body?” Roy said, now finally realizing what was going on.
Ed didn’t betray him.
Ed didn’t. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.
Silence on the other end. Right, if she did, then it’d be off the books, as it wasn’t even confirmed yet that he was dead.
“Her and Fuery are your only officers in the Eastern Command,” Maes said finally.
Right, then all of them – Riza and Kain, and, most of all, Ed and Al, were in danger. Even as he thought so, and the danger for them was almost palpable, he couldn’t manage to stop that shamefully happy feeling at the thought that Ed hadn’t betrayed him after all.
He hang up the phone, right after he made sure that no, Maes didn’t know where the insurgents’ hideout in Central was, and yes, Maes did look at his own evidence, and the only thing he and Maes did actually know was that these insurgents were damn good at avoiding his spy network and military attention. Which probably meant that they had some links to the criminal smuggling network or the drug trade.
Nice.
He retrieved a spare glove – only one he still had at his office – and marched to the outside of his empty office to retrieve the private who was still waiting there, pale and shaking. The private went even paler when he saw him with the glove on.
“S-sir?” he asked, his voice now turning into pure shriek.
Roy tossed him a portable radio.
“Follow me, and also use this to reach Sergeant Fuery. Need to talk to him.”
“I am a combat medic, Sir,” the private responded. But under Roy’s unimpressed gaze, started actually turning the buttons on the radio. Roy, on the other hand, knew that Maes on his end was employing his trusted people to reach Breda’s group in the South and find out more about the insurgents.
“Sir, you are bleeding,” the private told him when they reached his car.
Roy already knew for the fact that the wound was superficial; or he’d bleed to death; or he’d be mistaken about what exactly was happening. But he just nodded and allowed the private to use the medicine kit in the car to fix him with some bandages. They needed all they’d got, and he would be twice useless if he was weakened not only by the rain but also that wound.
“That’s it, Sir,” the private said, finishing with the bandage.
Roy nodded and pressed on gas, while the private was still trying to use radio to call Fuery. Roy offered what he could actually say about their secret communication channels without revealing too much, but frankly, he wasn’t that much of a help in this.
He was driving the car in the direction of the Eastern suburb, looking for something he knew he would find there.
Yes, there.
A guy looking just inconspicuous enough, having lunch in one of the cafes. He stopped the car and marched straight into the café.
“Hey, Monroe,” he said, tugging on his gloves. “I don’t have much time.”
But Monroe’s reaction surprised him.
“You… Too?” Monroe shouted, rising his arms.
Roy just furrowed his brows. Whatever.
“I need to know something. Fast. If you don’t talk…”
But Monroe interrupted him.
“You’ll alchemize me into a frog? Beat me to death? Shoot me to death? Turn me into a radio?”
“Uhm.. Burn you?” Roy offered unenthusiastically. “And all of the above… I guess.”
“You know what, Colonel?” the guy shouted. “I quit. That’s enough. I did honest work,” well, if someone could count smuggling an ‘honest work’… “I sweat and earned money, and all that, but then you and your subordinates come waltzing… Can’t you at least not all come to me? Can’t you find another smuggler to ask all these questions?”
Roy crossed his hands.
“I only need to know where…” he started.
“Black Tangerines are? In the river district, just like I said to your boy and that blonde lady! Warehouse 1-152A…” the guy shouted. “I’m done! Done with this work.”
The next second, Monroe tossed a key at Roy.
“That’s it. Just take it and don’t bother me again. All I have!” Monroe was crying. “Get a damn radio, you guys!”
Then, Monroe ran out outside, stuck a sign outside the café door, and disappeared into the rain.
Roy followed him, now dumbfoundedly looking at the sign.
“CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. BLACK TANGERINES AT RIVER DISTRICT WAREHOUSE 1-152 A.”
In the river district, Roy parked next to the warehouse, now hiding his glove in his pocket, hoping to keep it dry despite the rain. Satisfyingly, he noted that there weren’t any sounds of fighting coming from the warehouse 1-152 A.
He ordered the private to stay in the car and continue trying to reach Fuery over the radio, while he decidedly marched in the direction of the warehouse.
Closer to the warehouse, he heard something else. Al’s voice. Scared, from the sound of it. For a second, he thought that he had to stop, evaluate the situation and come up with a plan, but all his readiness to do that disappeared the moment he realized what Al was saying.
“Please, just let him go.” Sad, small voice. “He did what you wanted, why can’t you let him go?”
“Al, just leave, please.” Ed’s voice.
“Yes, we don’t have any use for you.” A low, grumbling voice. “But this kid is a state alchemist, and we do have a use…”
Roy didn’t listen further. He put his glove on, carefully, making sure that it wouldn’t get wet – he was under cover but still – and snapped. The warehouse door shattered in small pieces.
Inside, he snapped again, with satisfaction looking at the owner of the low grumbling voice crying from pain.
“Shoot them,” the guy said – definitely the leader of this stupid insurgent band.
Oh, he had to do something. Ed was immobilized, bound, on the floor, and their guns were directed right at him.
His mind went blank though. Not so many ways to burn his way out of so many guns pointing at Ed.
Please, just don’t.
Don’t.
Please.
Just a second later, three things happened.
Ed jumped up from the floor as if him being bound and scared was an act – it probably was – clapped his hands, and the ground of the warehouse started turning into all his fists and horned monsters.
From somewhere above them, a few precise shots wounded the insurgents who remained standing.
And Roy – Roy looked whatever Ed thought was passable enough to look like his body closely – and he felt fury once again. His pretend-to-be body was a) balding, b) had wrinkles and a few grey hairs and a few extra pounds that he definitely didn’t have , c) and something that looked suspiciously close to horns. He only didn’t eviscerate whatever that was because Ed and Al needed his help, and he started fighting with the insurgents too.
The fight lasted all but five minutes. When all stopped, he saw Riza and Kain appearing from the upper floor of the warehouse. They were alright.
“Glad to see that you’re alive, Sir,” Riza said, her voice just a tiny bit too warm. Well, she probably couldn’t see the horns on the film, couldn’t know that he wasn’t actually dead, and probably spent several hours coming up with a plan for a cold-blooded revenge. He wouldn’t want to be in that situation himself, for the life of him.
He nodded, now focusing his attention at the way Ed starred at him, at the way how guilty Ed looked. Just like back in Risembool, when Ed committed a human transmutation and felt that he didn’t deserve anything in his life but pain.
Yes, he needed to do something about that.
Ed hid his gaze and started explaining, and Al started explaining it too, their voices interrupting each other.
“They… Had Al…”
“There was a kitten…”
“Didn’t know where they held him…”
“I went after the kitten, and they…”
“Threatened…”
“It’s my fault I haven’t escaped yet…”
“They said that if I don’t… Then Al…”
“It’s my fault, Colonel… I had to escape and it didn’t work out with the array…”
“They knew about the blood seal. They knew water can harm it…”
“I should have told Ed when I ran after the kitten…”
“I found their hideout in the South, but they have already taken Al away…”
“I forgot about the second guard during my second attempt…”
“I agreed to… They gave me a knife…”
“I almost broke out when they were transferring me to Central…”
“They were following me today, and they said if I don’t do it before midday, then Al…”
“I am sorry…”
“I am sorry…”
“It’s my fault, don’t do anything to Ed, please!” Al cried, now hiding Ed behind him.
“No, it’s my fault, brother… I….” Ed’s voice hitched, all too scared, all full of the guilt and everything that wasn’t supposed to be there.
“No, brother!”
“My fault. Mustang has to court-martial me!”
“But…”
“What they told about me attacking Mustang, it’s true, Al. I… I…” Ed stopped, suddenly looking as if he ran out of words.
“STOP!” Roy said, raising a hand. Brothers indeed stopped.
“Just use my photo for reference next time,” Roy said, sighing.
“A photo?” Ed asked dumbfoundedly, looking as if something didn’t exactly fit into his picture of the world.
“You think THIS,” Roy pointed at the ‘body’. “Looks like me? Although considering your height, you probably never even had a chance to see how I look like.”
The height jab didn’t land like it always did.
“Photo? Bastard, do you even realize what I did?” Ed asked now appearing from behind Al, sounding furious. “And I know you do, and you can’t brush it aside. Like… Like… Like you just did, okay?”
“I have to be court-martialled,” he said, after a pause.
“Brother!”
“And you, stupid bastard, you should get treated because… I…”
“Had a sparring match with me in my apartment?” Roy said, grinning. “And then we all had to leave because we heard about these insurgents in Central. Sounds good to me.”
Meanwhile, Riza finished rounding up the insurgents.
“Wait outside, Ed, Al,” Roy said now, his voice unyielding like steel. These insurgents had to suffer for what they did. Besides, they knew what Ed agreed to do, and negotiating with them alone wouldn’t look good for his subordinate. He might as well be court-martialled if these insurgents were left alive.
In Ed’s eyes, there was a hint of understanding of what was going to happen.
“General Hakuro knows what happened. I sent him a letter,” Ed said, looking as stubborn as ever. “So no need…” he waved his non-automail hand in the direction of Riza’s gun, now pointed at the insurgents. “For this bullshit.”
Roy’s brow started twitching against his will.
“You did what?”
Yes, the letter that Ed was so set on sending when they were walking to his car.
“One-day delivery, so Hakuro must have it right now.”
“And what exactly did you feel was so urgent that you felt appropriate to notify a General, not your commanding officer?”
“Everything,” Ed shrugged. “Figured Lieutenant Hawkeye wouldn’t be able to read it if she heard about… Well, me attacking you.”
Roy felt like setting everything around him ablaze.
“Just tell me why,” he said, finally realizing how terrified he sounded.
“Concrete, remember?” Ed looked right at him. “Figured you won’t ever figure out a way of getting out alchemically. So I sent the information about the attack and the possible arrays that they could use for getting you out. Earth, wood, concrete…”
“Shit,” was all Roy managed to say before he started running back to the car, in the stupid hope to retrieve the stupid letter before Hakuro could get his hands on it.
They had to leave Al and Fuery back at the warehouse, as his car wasn’t big enough for Al, and Fuery – because someone had to arrest the insurgents and wait for the MP-s to come. Now, when there was a chance that Hakuro knew about what happened, insurgents could serve as useful witnesses to the fact that Ed was made to do it rather than wanted to.
Riza drove the car to the Eastern Command, and he was relieved to finally sit back and try to think of a plan in which a letter – from a state alchemist, with a stamp ‘Urgent’ on top of it, sent to a General who wasn’t this alchemist’s commanding officer – could be retrieved at this hour.
“Sir,” Riza said somewhere half-way to the Command. “I suggest Edward will stay back to collect evidence.”
Ed looked at her in surprise, but Roy knew what it actually meant. They had a private in their car, someone who wasn’t part of their inner circle, someone who wasn’t supposed to listen to how they let Ed go – in case there was already an order to arrest Ed – but they could then credibly claim that they wanted Ed to actually collect evidence and, they didn’t know about the order to arrest Ed, and, for some reason, the kid disappeared.
Sounded like a plan.
“Yes, Ed, you should contact Breda and Havoc and start with the information that they have.”
Back at the warehouse, Fuery was already radioing Breda and Havoc to tell them about everything that happened and, clearly, they’d know that they had to save Ed. Help him run. Help him escape. Ed probably understood what was meant behind all that ‘evidence collection’, judging from the way his brows furrowed.
“You have a mission of your own,” Roy said then, pointing at the whole restoring their bodies thing.
Ed looked like he didn’t have a choice. It didn’t make him look less guiltier nonetheless.
“Really, Fullmetal. Get out of the car,” Roy said, and Riza stopped the car. “It’s an order.”
“Thank you,” Ed sad, looking earnest and tired. That must have been the first “thank you” he ever got from the kid, but he didn’t have time to contemplate about it.
The car started once again, and he felt uneasy about the way his heart was clenching at that whole farewell thing. There was something off about the way he felt too, something feeling as if he was losing something extremely important to him, and something he didn’t have in it to admit was so important.
“Well, at least I haven’t given him that Hansen’s book,” Roy smiled, trying to ease the silence that settled between them.
Back at the Eastern command, it was chaotic. Officers were running from room to room, they could hear radio from everywhere, reports were practically flying around. Somewhere deep inside him, the stupid hope that Hakuro didn’t have the letter yet returned.
It was in vain, though.
Hakuro was looking right at the letter when Roy finally managed to get to his office.
“Mustang?” Hakuro asked, sounding astonished. “Not dead, then.”
He put the letter aside and looked at him closely.
“I’ve got fifteen reports that you were dead at the hands of Black..” Hakuro frowned, clearly trying to remember. “Tangerine, what a stupid name. And there were photos of your dead body.”
“And now, this letter,” Roy braced himself for the order to arrest Ed that would immediately follow; for the questioning that he would have to endure once it was clear that it was all true and he already let Ed go.
“That I can’t read a single word off,” said Hakuro after a long pause.
“What?” Roy asked.
“Is this “Hi General Hakuro”?” Hakuro asked, looking at the letter under a magnifying glass, frowning. “And a few alchemic arrays on the other side?”
“Is this…” Hakuro spoke slowly. “Even a written language? In Amestrian?”
“An alchemic code, maybe?”
Roy and Riza exchanged understanding glances. Yes, Ed’s handwriting was unintelligible to practically every single person on Earth. They both managed to learn to read it, but Hakuro there clearly didn’t have a clue.
“Yes, Sir,” Roy put on one of his charming smiles. “This is an alchemic code, and as you probably know Fullmetal, he is still not familiar with the protocol. It alerts you about the upcoming attack – on me, and I,” Roy smirked. “Would be happy to translate it.”
“The up-coming attack,” Hakuro frowned. “Is this the one that happened today or another, ‘up-coming’ attack? Because my guys are still investigating whatever happened at your apartment today.”
“We will know once I can decode the letter, Sir.” Roy smiled again. “It is of utmost importance to figure out.”
Hakuro didn’t look like he wanted to give him the letter, but Roy used the moment of hesitation to snatch it out of General’s hands.
“I really,” he looked at the General as earnest as he could. “Am thankful for your concern for my life. It’s extremely important that we start investigating this as soon as we could.”
They spent hours and hours then, ‘investigating’ whatever happened.
Several hours later, around ten in the evening, the events of the day looked something like this. Ed told Roy about his own investigation into Black Tangerines, and they went to his apartment to try to come up with a plan for a counter-attack; Ed sent that letter to Hakuro because – well, because apparently, he thought that Roy was not trusting him as much as he was supposed to and it was important that another commanding officer would look at the evidence; then the insurgents attacked earlier than they thought they would; Ed and Mustang’s team managed to capture the insurgents nevertheless; whatever insurgents were saying was an attempt to make Ed look back – they hated state alchemists and Ed as the youngest of them was their primary target; the letter that Ed wrote to Hakuro somehow disappeared in the chaos of the investigation but the translation from the alchemic code was thankfully provided by yours sincerely, Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist.
Ta-da.
Riza drove Roy back to his apartment later in the night, and he almost fell asleep during the short trip. He insisted he’d go though – there were a few precious items and books he wanted to keep while it was being renovated. Riza looked worn out and worried too, because they haven’t found Ed yet, and they needed to tell him that it was all alright.
Strangely enough, his apartment was back as it was. As in not missing a wall. He even had to take stairs inside the apartment building, like a normal person who wasn’t involved in an alchemic fight right in the middle of his apartment.
And Ed was there.
Inside of his apartment, asleep on the couch, as if it was a totally normal thing to do to break in your commanding officer’s apartment, renovate it and then sleep right there. The apartment itself looked back to normal; even uprooted furniture all back in its place. Riza nodded, now radioing Fuery to call off yet another mission for finding Ed.
“Good night, Colonel.” Her voice sounded relieved.
When she left, he decided to check if all his valuable belongings were in place. And strangely enough, they were. Nothing in his apartment reminded him of what happened that day. The alchemy skill used there was impressive.
“Mustang?” Ed woke up and now looked at him.
“You were supposed to leave,” Roy said, feeling too tired for the argument that was sure to follow.
“Just figured they won’t like it that you let me go.”
“They are giving you a commendation for today, actually. So yes, they are absolutely happy that I let you go to collect more evidence.”
Ed huffed, sounding disbelieving.
Roy picked up a book and walked to the coach and sat there, next to Ed.
“Hansen’s “Anthology of living species” could be actually more useful for you, Fullmetal,” he said, giving the book to Ed.
“Just stop all this being saint bullshit,” Ed enunciated. “I know you are at the very least angry about what happened.”
Roy sighed. Here we go, he thought.
“Or is it just a normal Tuesday for you to be stabbed by a subordinate? Figured you are as useless.”
“I am angry, Ed,” Roy finally admitted, after a long pause.
“See!” Ed said loudly, as if announcing his victory but sounding even guiltier now.
“But because of you not telling me about this,” Roy finally looked at Ed. “What if I noticed you attacking me? What if I fought back? What if I found you at that warehouse but I thought that you were with them? What if my team were all at the Eastern Command and were able to attack you before I could find you?”
“And?” Ed didn’t even raise his brows.
“And you could have told me and then we wouldn’t risk so much, do you understand?”
“Tell you about how I negotiated with insurgents, agreed to kill you, had a knife and an alchemized copy of your body in a luggage?”
“That was not a copy,” Roy enunciated. Then he sighed. “Yes, Ed,” Roy looked at him, trying to sound as sincere as he never did. “Yes, all of this.”
“Miscommunication could have killed someone today,” Roy continued, trying to make the point clear. “Just try to make sure that you won’t do something so reckless again.”
“Are you saying I can stab you again as long as I tell you about my plans?” Ed huffed.
“I would prefer not to,” he admitted. “But if it’s an only solution, then pretty much yes, Ed.”
“And I know you considered all the options and you wanted to save Al,” Roy continued. “You found a way to keep us both alive, and you shouldn’t blame yourself for it.”
Ed clearly wanted to argue but that very moment, the door alarm rang and Roy opened it to find Al with a bunch of shopping bags in metallic hands.
“Your fridge was empty, Colonel, Sir,” Al said.
Apparently, the brothers both were at Mustang’s apartment today – not because they agreed to but because they both thought that it’d be nice to fix it. At the time when Al arrived, having finished with the whole insurgents business, Ed was already asleep and the renovations were basically completed. Al decided not to wake Ed up – even to tell him that it was all fine with the military not searching for him, the last he heard – but he decided not to, as Ed needed his sleep, and Mustang’s apartment definitely needed some food.
Stupid, useless Mustang went to sleep about a minute later. Al looked happy now, and now was working in the kitchen on some nice recipe that Winry gave him and was supposed to produce a pie in no less than eight hours. Ed was supposed to sleep, but he couldn’t.
Just couldn’t.
Stupid Mustang with all his drama and his hero complex who couldn’t even admit how much Ed was to blame for the situation.
He felt a little ball of emotions tensing right inside him, somewhere deep where he couldn’t control it. And it wasn’t just the feeling of doing something that was irreparably wrong that he had from the very moment he agreed to whatever. It was something else, something he couldn’t even name.
As on that day when the Teacher allowed them to become her students.
As when he saw Al feeding all his stupid kittens.
As when Winry built an automail for that homeless guy for free, claiming she needed ‘exposure’ and having to work three nights straight without ever getting paid, even for materials.
That feeling… Of not being alone, and even more so, being surrounded by all this stupid kindness in people. The very thing that wouldn’t ever be created alchemically, the strange flavour of stupid, irrational kindness that made humans human.
That stupid prickling feeling in his eyes he felt when he realized how not alone he and Al actually had been.
He smiled, somewhere into his arms, so that Al couldn’t see it, and fell asleep, into the happiest, calmest sleep he had in a long time.