Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“It’s going to take how long?” Ed cried as Winry poked and prodded at his ports.

“Four weeks, Ed,” she sighed, sitting back and turning to her workbench.

Ed’s mind was racing. Four weeks. It couldn’t take that long. There had to be a mistake. Winry had to be messing with him. Pulling his leg (ha, get it?) or something!

“No, no, no, no, no. It can’t take four weeks! I can’t be without an arm and a leg for four weeks!” Already he was feeling stifled.

The prosthetics that Winry gave him to hobble around on until his automail was repaired were good quality. Everything the Rockbells did was good quality. But they were still only prosthetics. They didn’t move like his automail or feel like his automail. They were essentially sticks slapped onto his body to help with balance. He couldn’t bend the knee of the prosthetic leg with just a thought. He couldn’t run and fight with them. He couldn’t even use alchemy with the prosthetic arm. Not only that, but the prosthetics tended to make his stumps hurt if he wore them for too long. He didn’t know if it was because he had clunky metal ports that made it harder for the fake limbs to fit or if everyone had issues with non-automail prosthetics, but whatever the case, that stupid leg was uncomfortable and that stupid arm was useless. He felt trapped like this, unable to go anywhere or do anything. And now he was going to have to deal with them for a month.

“You should have thought of that before destroying them,” she spat, whacking him on the head with a wrench for good measure. “You have the prosthetics. That’s the best I can do.”

“Why is it going to take four weeks?” He groaned. “It never takes four weeks! Are you just saying this to punish me? You know I didn’t break them on purpose and I was careful this time! It’s not my fault the alchemist decided to try and blow up a street full of civilians.”

Maybe Winry had finally snapped and decided to take extra-long fixing up his arm and leg this time because she was tired of him always breaking them. He didn’t mean to break them this time! Honest! In fact, he didn’t mean to break them ever. People just really liked attacking them. Havoc liked to joke that he was a trouble magnet. But maybe it wasn’t him, but his metal limbs that attracted all the trouble. That’d explain why they broke every other week.

Winry sighed and turned back to him. She didn’t seem mad. She actually looked apologetic, downright ashamed. That look made Ed stop his complaining in his tracks. He didn’t mean to make her feel bad.

“All the parts I need are on backorder,” she explained. “I’ve been trying to get them for months but everyone is having issues. Not just me. Unless you can figure out a way to get them faster—”

“I’ll transmute them for you,” he said. “Just give me the schematics and let me take care of the rest.”

“No. Absolutely not.” She shook her head.

“Why not?”

“Because, Ed, some of these parts are very delicate and require precise craftsmanship. You need to be a real master to make sure all the parts are created correctly so they work correctly. If it didn’t require this level of precision and knowledge, I wouldn’t mind. But I’m not willing to risk it because you can’t sit still for a few weeks.”

He groaned and slumped back in the chair. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t be to sit still for a few weeks. Sure, he was antsy and wanted to get back on the road as soon as possible. Al’s body wasn’t going to magically materialize out of nowhere, after all. But the main problem was Colonel Bastard. There was no way he would ever agree to give him four weeks of leave. Even if this wasn’t technically his fault and there was no way to speed up the process. He could practically hear Mustang shouting from East City right now. He’d probably have a stroke once Ed told him he was going to be out of commission for four weeks. Maybe he could just not tell him? Disappear for a few weeks and then reappear and pretend like nothing had happened. He’d done it before. Then again, he usually was on a mission when he did that so it was expected. And even if it was Expected, Mustang still would yell at him and send him to a mine inspection once he did reappear. Also, Al was going to know something was up and probably rat him out anyways.

Fuck. He had to tell Mustang and listen to him shout and carry on about this, didn’t he? Might as well get it over with.

“Alright, alright. I need to make a call.” He grumbled, heaving himself off the chair. It took a second to get his balance, much longer than normal and he hated himself all the more for it.

“I’m sorry, Ed. I really am,” Winry said. She sounded sorry.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault. Like you said, everyone’s having problems with getting their parts.” He smiled at her, trying to sound nonchalant and okay with how things were going. He didn’t need Winry to feel any guiltier than she already was. Besides, it was technically his fault for breaking them in the first place. He should have dealt with the alchemist sooner and been more aware of what was going on around him. Not that he’d ever admit that out loud.

He managed to make his way down the stairs to see Al playing with Den on the floor of the living room.

“Hey, brother. How’d it go?” he asked.

“Four weeks,” he groaned. “I’m not going to have an arm or a leg for four weeks! Colonel Bastard is going to kill me!”

Maybe he shouldn’t phone Mustang after all. There was no reason for him to know every little detail about his life. And he knew Ed was in Resembool getting his arm and leg repaired. That should be enough for him, for now.

Yeah, that’d work. He didn’t have to tell Mustang anything. He went to sit on the couch.

“Well?” Al said, looking at him expectantly.

“Well, what?”

“Aren’t you going to call the colonel and let him know?” He was still staring at him.

Well, shit, there goes that plan. It would have worked had Al not picked up on what he was doing. Now, there was no way to play dumb and argue with him. One way or another, Mustang would find out. And it was better if he found out now from Ed rather than two weeks from now from Al.

“Do you want me to call him?”

Ed shook his head and hauled himself off the couch and over to the phone. “No, no. I’ll do it. That way he can’t assume I’m hiding something from him or slacking off.”

“You’re not slacking off, though. If Winry can’t fix your arm and leg for four weeks, there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Ed scoffed and dialed the office’s number. “That’s what you think. He’ll still probably find a way to blame all of this on me. Even though I was doing his dirty work.”

Someone on the other end answered. “Colonel Mustang,” he said, sounding frustrated. He probably was. Ed knew he hated when people called him. Even if it was in the middle of the workday and related to work things. Sometimes, he got the urge to call the bastard for no reason, just to fuck with him. Al usually talked him out of it, though.

“Hey, bastard.”

“Fullmetal, you know these lines are monitored, right? You never know when someone could be listening in.”

Ed winced. He always forgot about that. According to Fuery, it was very rare for someone to be listening in on random conversations. They only started listening if they suspected something was going on, like treason or espionage. However, because you could never be sure when someone was listening in or what their relationship to you or your CO was, you had to watch what you said. It was annoying. He didn’t like thinking that there could be some person he’d never met before on the other end of the line, listening to him, reading into everything he said in hopes of finding evidence of wrongdoing. It made him anxious. It wasn’t like he was doing anything bad, but he couldn’t be sure if one wrong word might trigger a red flag that would lead to an investigation that would lead to Al in a lab and Ed in front of a firing squad.

“Um, right,” he said, trying to push back his swirling thoughts and anxieties. “Anyways, I’m calling about my arm.”

“I figured. I need you back as soon as possible. A state alchemist has gone rogue—”

“Yeah…” He winced and went to rub the back of his neck, only to remember he didn’t have his arm. Fuck, he hated this so much. He couldn’t even do his normal anxiety ticks!

Mustang went silent on the other end for several seconds. Ed stayed silent as well. He wasn’t going to elaborate if Mustang didn’t ask him to. Please don’t ask him to.

“What did you do?” Mustang finally bit out.

“I didn’t do anything!”

“Then why do you sound guilty?”

“I’m not,” Ed argued.

Mustang didn’t respond.

“Look,” he said, “before you get mad, just remember, this isn’t my fault.”

“I very much doubt that.”

“Are you going to let me talk, bastard?”

“Monitored lines, Fullmetal.”

“Fine,” he groaned. Then, he took a deep breath and steeled himself for another round of Mustang shouting for thirty minutes. “It’s going to take four weeks to get my arm and leg back.” He squeezed his eyes shut and waited for Mustang to start yelling.

“What?” He growled. One would think him not yelling would be better. One would be wrong.

“The parts are all on backorder and there’s nothing Winry can do to get them here any sooner. Apparently, everyone is having issues. I offered to transmute some for her, but she’s worried I don’t know enough about the mechanics to make them functional.”

“You mean to tell me, that you are going to be out of commission, for a month?” He still wasn’t shouting. Ed would prefer it if he were shouting.

“There’s nothing I can do about it!” he shouted. When in doubt, start shouting yourself. Then, Mustang would shout back and Ed would feel better.

“How about, the next time you go up against a crazed maniac, you don’t get your arm and leg destroyed!” Mustang was shouting now. Mission accomplished. It didn’t necessarily make Ed feel better, though.

“It’s not like I planned this, ass—” Right, don’t curse. Someone could be listening in and taking notes that could affect them both.

“I am trying to figure out a way to strangle you through the phone right now, Elric.” And he was back to not shouting again. Great. Just great.

And he was also using his last name. Shit. That meant he was more than pissed, he was furious. Ed didn’t know if it was solely because of him or if something else was going on. Either way, he didn’t like it.

“You cannot be out of commission for four weeks!”

“Then put me on desk duty or something!” Fuck, he could not believe he was asking to be put on desk duty.

“I can’t! Not with my team at least. I need one field agent and you’re it!”

“I can take someone’s place. Send Havoc out into the field and I’ll do his work for a month!” Havoc probably wouldn’t mind. He didn’t like desk work either.

“No, you can’t just take on Havoc’s work.”

“Why not?”

“Because as far as I know, Havoc can’t do alchemy which puts him at a disadvantage for any alchemists he goes up against. And you aren’t familiar enough with anything he’s doing to do his work properly.” Mustang let out a groan. “Just… stay in Resembool for now. I’ll ask around and see what I can do. Do not get into any more trouble.”

He hung up the phone before Ed could answer.

He looked at Al, wondering if he heard everything.

“He seems stressed,” Al said.

“Yeah, I’m just worried about how he’s going to ‘deal’ with this. If I can’t help out with his team, who the hell am I going to help?”

“I’m sure he’ll come up with something, brother. For now, let’s focus on getting you more comfortable with your prosthetic since you’re going to be wearing them for a month.”

Ed hung up the phone and bit back a groan. Somehow, this situation just kept getting worse. What the hell was his life, even?

*****

Mustang couldn’t believe what Ed had just told him. Four weeks. He was going to be out of commission for four weeks. It wasn’t completely his fault. They had underestimated the firepower of the last crazed maniac he had been sent to deal with. They assumed they were dealing with a run-of-the-mill criminal with run-of-the-mill funds. They did not know he was being supplied with weapons, ammunition, and explosives from Drachma. Ed had barely managed to clear the street of civilians before it was blown sky-high. Sadly, he was caught in the crossfire and the arm and leg were destroyed. It was only thanks to Al that they even caught the man and dug Ed out before he was completely crushed by the street.

At the time, Mustang was glad it was only the arm and the leg. The fact that Fullmetal got out of there with little more than a few scratches and a concussion was a miracle.

Now, though, things were different. Now he needed to figure out what to do with the kid while he was missing an arm and a leg. He had options, of course. And none of them were good. Ed couldn’t stay on his team right now because they were working on a terrorism case that required all men working under him to be ready for combat at a moment’s notice. He could suspend the kid on medical leave, which was probably the ‘correct’ form of action according to the military. However, that also meant suspending his pay and access to resources. The kid had no other means of support and four weeks was a long time to go without any income. Even if the Rockbells were willing to feed and house him until the parts came in, the kid would probably go crazy sitting in Resembool, unable to do any more research on the Philosopher’s stone and getting his and his brother’s body back. And a stir-crazy Edward Elric was a recipe for disaster.

He might be able to swing a research sabbatical. Of course, that was difficult considering Ed’s research was all about the Philosopher’s stone. He had already exhausted all research at the library in East City and Central. He might be able to head out to another branch, but the border skirmishes there made Mustang nervous. The last thing he needed was for Ed to be on the front lines of battle when he couldn’t fight like he normally could. If it were only a week or two, Mustang might have been able to swing any one of these options. But four weeks? God, this kid existed solely to make his life more difficult. Didn’t he?

“Hawkeye, what am I going to do?” he groaned, thumping his forehead on the table. He hadn’t gotten any work done for the better part of an hour. Every thought he had was on trying to find something for Ed to do. And then quickly realizing that was impossible for one reason or another.

“You can ask around and see if anyone needs administrative help. People are always looking for help filling out forms,” she suggested.

“Kid’s right-handed. Anything he writes now will be illegible.” That was one of his first thoughts, only to quickly squash it when he realized there was no way Ed’s handwriting would be up to par. Mustang and the rest of the team had figured out how to read his chicken scratch a long time ago. Any other CO, though, wouldn’t be willing to look past it.

The rest of the men had thrown out suggestions as soon as they had heard, but so far, they had all come up empty. Someone had suggested Mustang find another alchemist Ed and Al could shadow for a few weeks. Except, the last time he did that, Ed and Al nearly had a breakdown over Nina and he did not want to risk something like that happening again.

Hawkeye was silent for a few seconds, a sign that she was thinking. Good, because he was quickly running out of ideas.

“I may know of someone who needs assistance. It doesn’t require any writing and it won’t be near any borders,” she finally said.

“Really? Who?”

“Colonel Fleck. He’s working on reorganizing the records room in Central. He’s been asking around for volunteers. I believe Colonel Olson and General Grieves have both donated lieutenants to the cause, but you’ve seen the room. It’s massive and very disorganized. All he’d have to do is help put the files away.”

“Sounds like hell,” Mustang muttered. Especially to a kid like Edward, he’d probably be bouncing off the walls in a matter of minutes.

“It’s better than nothing, sir.”

She was right about that. And besides, it wasn’t like they had a lot of options. This way, Ed would still have access to the library, he’d still have access to his pay, he wouldn’t be in a war zone, he wouldn’t be shadowing potentially unhinged alchemists that performed transmutations on their daughters, and he’d be relatively out of harm’s way.

“Central, you say? Think he could handle being in a city by himself for a month?”

It wouldn’t be the first time he had sent the kids to Central, but it would be the first time he had sent them away specifically to work under another person. He didn’t know how he felt about that. He knew Ed specifically pushed his buttons and he did (usually) know how to act around other members of the military. But being polite to an unfamiliar colonel for a few minutes in passing and working under one for a month, following orders, and working with an entirely new team was something else.

“If Edward wants to keep his pay and access to the library while he waits for his automail, it’s his best bet,” she stated simply. “He can either help with the reorganization efforts, or he can stay in Resembool on medical leave for a month.”

Mustang knew which one Ed would choose. “I guess I’ll give Colonel Fleck a call, see if he’s willing to put up with Fullmetal for a month.” He picked up the phone and paused. “But first, I’ll call Hughes.”

Hawkeye gave him a knowing smile and returned to her work. He decided not to say anything. It was in his best interest to call Hughes first. If he was going to be trusting his major to Fleck’s command for a month, he at least should know what he was like. If he was crazy or not. If he was into corporal punishment or not. And so on. He had met the man once or twice when he went to Central on business. His brief interactions with him never raised any red flags. However, you could never tell in the military. Just because he seemed safe didn’t mean he was safe. And, there was more than just Fleck to worry about. The other lieutenants might also be sociopaths waiting in the wings to hurt someone.

“Once you have confirmation from Colonel Fleck,” Hawkeye said, pulling him from his thoughts, “let me know and I’ll work on the turning in the paperwork to General Grumman for a temporary transfer.”

“Thank you, lieutenant.” He dialed Hughes’ office, waiting for him to pick up the phone.

“Hello, this is Lieutenant Colonel Hughes,” he said. He sounded tired. Investigations were always dealing with something.

Mustang decided to make this quick so his friend could get back to work. “Hughes, I was wondering if you could give me some information.”

Hughes said. “It's always work with you, Roy. It’s never, ‘Hi, how are you, Maes? Can I hear about Elicia?’ It’s always ‘I need this and I want you to do that’. You, sir, are a terrible friend.”

Mustang couldn’t help but smirk. “Please, we all know you’re going to talk about Elicia anyways. Why do I need to ask?”

“Because it’s polite? Because it shows you care? Because it tells me you’re taking an interest in her adorable little life?”

He rolled his eyes. “So, are you going to help me out or what?” He did need to know about Fleck, especially if Ed was going to be working under him for a month. Ed didn’t always have the best common sense and control over his emotions. If something went wrong with Fleck, the kid might just blow up Central Command in retaliation. Mustang could get him out of a lot of trouble, but he couldn’t get him out of that.

“Fine, fine. What can I do for you, lazy bastard?”

“Careful, someone might be listening in on our conversation.” He chided.

“You’re being difficult on purpose,” Hughes groaned.

Mustang didn’t respond, only smiled and waited for him to give in.

“Alright, how can I help you?” Hughes finally asked.

“Fullmetal’s in a bit of a predicament.”

“I heard. It’s a miracle no one died.”

“It’s a miracle he didn’t die.”

He heard Hughes laugh. “Why, Roy, you almost sound worried.”

“Worried about the amount of paperwork I’d have to do if the brat bit the dust.”

Hughes continued to laugh. “It’s okay. We all know you have a heart, especially when it comes to the Elrics.”

“Anyways,” Mustang snapped, “his automail parts are all on backorder and won’t be available for at least four weeks.”

Hughes sucked in a breath. “That long? Damn.”

“I can’t have him on desk duty with my team because of that terrorist case. And he’s right-handed so I’m not willing to subject any other CO to trying to read his chicken scratch. Which is why Hawkeye suggested I have him work with Colonel Fleck reorganizing the records room.”

“Roy!” Hughes gasped. “I know you want to punish the kid for being reckless, but filing for four straight weeks? That’s too much.”

He shook his head. “I don’t have a lot of options, Hughes. So, what do you know about Fleck? Think I’ll have to write an apology letter because Fullmetal decked him? You know how his temper can be and I have a feeling, even down two limbs, that kid can and will fight someone if he wants.”

“Hmm, I honestly don’t know a lot about Fleck. He and his team largely keep to themselves. Definitely, someone who loves his organization hacks. He once gave me a nearly four-hour presentation on how I could better organize my office. I never thought anyone could say that much about sticky tabs.”

“Your office is a mess.”

“it’s organized!”

“Sure.”

“I know where everything is!”

“Completely believe you.”

“Anyways, as far as I can tell, Fleck’s fine. He seems like one of the more emotionally stable Colonels I know.”

“Is that supposed to be a dig at me?”

“Maybe. What I mean is the men who work under him all seem to not despise his guts. They don’t request transfers often, but there have been some. Occasional late nights. Occasional stressed-out shouting sessions. Nothing too out of the ordinary that would cause me to worry.”

“Well, that’s good. What about the other volunteers? I heard Grieves and Olson both donated lieutenants to the cause.”

“Fleck works under Grieves so that makes sense. I think it’s just Lieutenant Harrison that’s helping him, though. Nice enough guy. Nothing to worry about there. Lieutenant Bosco is the one who works under Fleck. I think Ed and Al will like her. She’s fairly bubbly and nice. I know she’s into alchemy. As for Olson’s man, his name is Lieutenant Morgan. I don’t know much about him. He’s stationed out West and requested a transfer.”

“And Colonel Olson signed off on it?”

“I guess so because he’s here. Rumor has it he got the hell out of Dodge because Olson caught him doing something he wasn’t supposed to.”

This caught Mustang’s attention. “Like what?” Maybe he shouldn’t have been worried about Fleck and should have been more worried about Morgan.

“Eh, not sure. There’s been no official investigation so I’m guessing he just snuck his girlfriend into the office one night and got caught. He’s not very friendly with the rest of the staff, though, so I really can’t say.”

Mustang listened to him, starting to doubt if this was a good idea.

“Roy, he’ll be fine. Fleck, Bosco, and Harrison are also going to be down there and they’re all decent people. Trust me.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Besides, it’s not like I have another halfway decent option.”

“Exactly. Besides, you should focus less on some lieutenants and more on Ed’s reaction. He’s not going to like this.”

“Then he shouldn’t get his automail destroyed every other month. How much do you want to bet that the reason everything’s on backorder is because he needs replacement parts so often?”

Hughes laughed. “I don’t think that’s how it works.” He shifted the phone. “Don’t worry, Roy. I’ll keep an eye on him. We’re going to be visiting Garcia’s parents towards the end of the month, so he’ll be on his own for a few days, but other than that I’ll keep him out of trouble.”

“You don’t have to do that. The kid can take care of himself.”

“Yeah, but I want to. They’re good kids.”

“You only say that because you don’t have to look at their expense reports.”

Hughes laughed. “I guess not. Oh, before you go, there’s one more thing I need to tell you.”

“What?”

“Find yourself a wife!”

He slammed down the phone before Hughes could get going on that particular tangent. He sighed and picked it up again. He hoped Fleck would be willing to take the kid for a few weeks. If he didn’t need or want the help, then Mustang truly would have no choice but to put Ed on medical leave for a month.

He reached Colonel Fleck’s secretary and she transferred him over. All this hinged on whether or not Fleck wanted help. And Mustang really hoped he did.

“Hello, this is Colonel Fleck?” The man on the other end sounded a bit scrambled and frantic.

“Hello, Colonel Fleck? This is Colonel Mustang from Eastern Command,” he said, trying to sound cheery and friendly. Put up the mask so no one knows what’s going on.

“Colonel Mustang, what can I do for you? It’s not often we get calls from Eastern Command.” Despite the frazzled nature of his voice, he sounded pleasant enough. Enough to put a few of Mustang’s worries at ease.

“One of my subordinates, the Fullmetal Alchemist, is going to be off fieldwork for about a month. I don’t have anything here for him to do so it was suggested I send him your way to help with the records reorganization effort you’ve been working on.”

“Really?” There was audible relief seeping into Fleck’s voice. It sounded like the man was about to cry if he were being honest. “That would be amazing! You don’t know how massive this project is. When I took it on, I was hoping to get it done in a month or two, but everything here is so unorganized it’ll take me at least six months. I love organization as much as the next person—”

Did anyone love organization?

“But even I think six months is a bit excessive. It’s like people were shoving reports down here with no regard for how anyone would find them again. When can he start?”

“I’ll have my lieutenant start working on the temporary transfer forms immediately. Hopefully, by the end of the week, he’ll be there helping you out.” There was something infectious about Fleck’s relief and gratitude. Every word he said put Mustang more at ease.

“Thank you so much! This is going to make my life so much easier. He ranks high enough to work on classified documents, correct? My lieutenants don’t rank that high so I’ve been forced to do all the work myself.”

“Yes, he has access to classified documents. But I don’t want to get your hopes up. He’s only one person.”

“One person more than I currently have. Thank you again, colonel. I look forward to working with him.”

Mustang wasn’t so sure about that. Ed hated all things that had to do with paperwork and only ever seemed interested in alchemy. He’d probably be fine for a week, maybe two, but then he’d start to get restless, anxious, and guilty. And when that happened, he started to get reckless. The last thing Mustang needed was for this kid to go looking for trouble. He hoped those parts would be here sooner rather than later. Then, he could send the kid off before the records room became another scene of mass destruction.

Only Edward Elric could make him worry this much about something as boring as reorganizing records.

Chapter Text

Ed sighed for what felt like the thousandth time in ten minutes. He had been packed on a train speeding towards Central City, a five-hour ride that consisted of some of the most boring scenery he had ever seen. And the next four weeks weren’t going to be much better. Four weeks stuck in some basement organizing files. He hadn’t even started and he could already tell it was going to be hell.

He sighed again.

“Please, for the love of God, sigh one more time and I’m throwing you off this train, Fullmetal,” Mustang growled. “I’ll deal with the inevitable wrath of your brother. I don’t care.”

Ed glared at him. “I’ll sigh all I want. These next few weeks are going to suck.”

He didn’t know why Mustang decided to tag along with him to Central City. He claimed he had a meeting with General Raven in the afternoon. Ed thought he was coming to make sure he actually showed up and started working for Fleck. Either way, it was annoying to be stuck with this bastard for the entire ride from East City to Central.

“And yet,” Mustang said, “I guarantee you won’t be any more careful with your automail on your next mission.”

Ed wrinkled his nose and continued to glare at Mustang. He had told him a thousand times he hadn’t meant for it to get destroyed. He never meant for it to get destroyed. Winry worked so hard on it and was so proud of it. He hated when he had to tell her it was broken again. But, Mustang didn’t seem keen on listening. He continued to act like this was all Ed’s fault and could be solved by simply being less reckless. So, he decided not to argue with him on that point. All it would lead to was another headache.

“You didn’t have to come, asshole. Al and I have been around Central plenty of times,” he said, changing the subject.

Mustang shook his head. “I told you, I have a meeting this afternoon with General Raven. It just so happens that this is when Colonel Fleck wants you to report as well.”

“Liar,” Ed grumbled. “You don’t have to pretend. I know you’re here because you’re worried I’m going to do something stupid. You don’t have to. I’ve been to Central before. I have Al with me. I’ll be fine.”

Mustang looked at him; studied him for a few seconds. Ed could tell he was thinking through what he was going to say next. Carefully crafting his sentences. He hated when he did that. Ed so rarely thought before he spoke and it often got him into trouble. When Mustang was like this, however, it made him feel distant, cold, calculating.

“This time is different,” Mustang said in his normal, measured, even voice. The tone that betrayed no emotion or true intentions. “You’re working under someone else. This isn’t a research trip or a quick meeting with friends. You’re not spending time with Hughes or Armstrong. You’ll have to be professional. Not everyone in the military is as lenient as me when it comes to your antics.”

Ed slumped down in the seat and tore his eyes away from him and back to the boring scenery speeding by. He could feel his cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Worried I’ll ruin your reputation?” he spat.

“I’m worried you’ll get yourself kicked out of the military.”

Ed flinched at the admission. Mustang must have been fucking terrified of how Ed was going to act and Fleck was going to react if he was admitting he was worried.

“I don’t think you realize how much I let you get away with.”

He winced and kept his eyes glued to the window. The thing was, he did realize. He realized how much Mustang looked the other way when it came to his dress, his reports, his cursing, everything. He would never admit it out loud, of course, but he did realize how much Mustang let him get away with. And he was glad for it. He didn’t know if he could function should he be forced to act like the perfect adult soldier he wasn’t.

“I’m not stupid. I know how to act around other people,” he grumbled.

“I highly doubt that. And, you’ve been especially testy now that you’re forced to use prosthetics instead of automail.”

This time, Ed did turn to glare at him. Mustang wasn’t wrong. Even Al had noticed his temper was shorter than normal. He assumed it was because of the prosthetics. He wouldn’t necessarily be wrong, but it was for a different reason. The prosthetics and missing an arm and a leg for almost four weeks was hell on Earth. He couldn’t fight. He couldn’t do alchemy. Hell, even walking and balancing was more difficult. But that wasn’t why he was so angry. He was angry because of how other people treated him. It was one thing for Winry and Al to see him hobbling around on the prosthetic. Hell, even Mustang wasn’t a big issue. But other people he ran into when they say he was missing an arm and a leg… they had a sort of way they looked at him. It was like a look of pity laced with the smugness of not being like him. Just getting on the train had garnered more pity stares than he had ever gotten when he had his automail. He hated it when people pitied him when they acted like he was two seconds from dying because he didn’t have a right arm. And then they just stared at him as he limped onto the train. A mix of ‘poor thing, I wonder what happened to him' and ‘thank God I still have all my limbs’.

It only got worse when they started talking to him. One woman was insistent on speaking to him like he was a toddler. She spoke slowly and with a syrupy sweet voice that one only used on the dumbest of children. Even Hughes didn’t speak to Elicia (an actual toddler) like she was stupid. And, last time he checked, missing an arm and a leg didn’t automatically put you at the same mental maturity as a two-year-old! He was so frozen when she started to speak to him he couldn’t even respond, only growing more and more ashamed as he realized she thought he was a moron that couldn’t think for himself. Luckily (as much as he hated to admit it), Mustang shut the old hag down real quick and told her to leave him alone. It was kind of badass, to be honest. The woman even had the audacity to look pissed off when Mustang told her to shut up.

But he knew that wasn’t going to be the end of it.

While walking to their seats, he saw people staring and heard whispers of ‘oh, poor thing’ and ‘I wonder how he lost them’ and ‘do you think he’ll be up for such a long train ride’ and dozens of other pity comments that they were more than fine with saying to each other, but would never dare say to him. Each comment drilled into his head and reaffirmed everything he was thinking about himself. The anger slowly grew and built until he thought he might snap and start hitting people.

Mustang had put a hand on the back of his head and forced him forward.

“Ignore them,” he said in a low tone. “They have nothing better to do than gossip and stare at strangers. Interacting with them won’t prove anything.”

For once, Ed did what he was told and shuffled to his seat, ready for the day to be over. It was a little better once they were sitting. Ed could smash his right side against the wall to hide the fact he had an arm missing. And, sitting down, no one could tell his left leg was fake. Once the train started moving, the whispers stopped.

It wasn’t even the whispers and stares that bothered him. He was used to that being the youngest state alchemist and having a seven-foot-tall suit of armor by his side. Hell, he couldn’t walk through Eastern Command without someone making some sort of comment. Though, it had lessened now that the novelty wore off.

No, the reason why all these people bothered him was that the implication he was useless like this. He wasn’t useless! He was a little unsteady on a moving train, hence why Al was the one to go get some food and not him (Mustang was too damn lazy to make the walk). And sure, he couldn’t fight like normal or do his normal form of alchemy, but that didn’t mean he was useless and stupid. He didn’t need to be talked down to. He didn’t need to be pitied. He didn’t need people to speculate why he was missing his limbs and how much of a ‘poor thing’ he was. He didn’t need people to wonder if he was ‘up for’ a five-hour train ride. He needed them to mind their own damn business and leave him alone.

Mustang was more of a godsend than Ed initially thought he would be. He knew the man wouldn’t pity him, he hadn’t when he was stuck in a wheelchair. However, he was worried that Mustang might treat him differently when he did see Ed with an empty sleeve and a leg that didn’t bend. He didn’t. When Ed limped his way into Eastern Command to discuss his upcoming assignment, Mustang didn’t look at him like he was fragile. He didn’t talk to him in a soft voice. He didn’t ask if he needed help or if he was up for the job. He didn’t even mention the prosthetics. Instead, he made fun of Ed’s height like normal, scolded him for destroying the limbs and inconveniencing Winry, and talked to him like normal. Ed would never admit how happy that conversation had made him.

“I don’t know much about Colonel Fleck,” Mustang said, pulling Ed from his thoughts. “But no matter what, you have to be professional.”

“How can I be professional when I can’t even salute with the correct hand?” he huffed. A thought occurred to him. “Is saluting with your left-hand sort of like flipping someone off?” He grinned.

Mustang glared at him.

Ed saluted him.

“Quit being a child, Fullmetal. I’m trying to keep you from getting kicked out of the military.”

Ed dropped his hand and slumped back in his seat. “I know. I know. Do whatever Colonel Fleck says. Don’t call him names to his face—”

“Don’t call him names period.”

Ed continued as if he hadn’t heard that. “Don’t come into work late. Don’t curse in front of him. I got it. I got it. I know how to be professional.”

“Really? Because based on my experience working with you, you couldn’t be professional to save your life.”

Ed might be down two limbs, but he wasn’t going to let Mustang get away with that little jab.

He kicked him in the shin. “Asshole.”

“The other thing I want to make clear, crystal clear,” Mustang said, ignoring his attempts to bruise his shin. “Under no circumstances are you and your brother to go looking for trouble.”

This got Ed to stop his attempts to kick Mustang’s leg off. He furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“Central has its fair share of conspiracies, criminals, and mysteries. I know you and Al like helping people and taking down corruption, but do not do anything other than work in the Records Room, research at the library, eat at the mess hall, or sleep in the dorms. I don’t want you wandering around after dark. I don’t want you sticking your nose into investigations. I don’t want you stumbling on anything and trying to deal with it yourself. I want this to be the most boring four weeks you’ve ever had in your entire goddamn life. Do I make myself clear?”

Ed slumped even further down in the seat, crossing his arm over his chest and huffing. “What? Do you think I can’t take care of myself? Think I’m fucking useless like this?”

And here he thought Mustang might see him as an equal. As someone who wasn’t a pathetic child missing two limbs that needed to be coddled and protected from the world. It hurt more than he was willing to admit. He thought Mustang was different. He thought he wasn’t like all the whispering assholes on the train. Turns out, he was wrong.

“I don’t think you’re useless like this.” Mustang was using that even tone of voice he used when he wanted Ed to listen to him and not get mad. “I think you are weakened like this. The same way you’d be weakened if all your ribs were broken. Or if you had the flu. Or if you were caught by surprise.”

“Yeah, whatever you say.” He didn’t need Mustang to lie to him. The man never had before.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he studied him. Doing that thing where he sat there and thought. Ed hated it when he did that. He felt like no matter how hard he tried to disappear, he couldn’t under Mustang’s intense gaze that threatened to uncover all of his secrets. Everything he had ever said, done, or thought.

“Fullmetal,” he finally said, still with that even tone of voice. “Whether you want to admit it or not, you are human. Being human means you have limitations. All of us do. Whether it’s Fuery’s inability to hit a target two feet in front of him, Havoc’s dependence on cigarettes, or your missing limbs, we all have weaknesses. You need to be aware of what your weaknesses and limitations are so you can work around them. Right now, you can’t fight like you normally can. You don’t have quick access to your alchemy. You’re in an unfamiliar city working for an unfamiliar man with unfamiliar people. All of these things put you at a greater risk of getting hurt if you do get caught up in something. Don’t go looking for trouble just to prove to yourself that you can still succeed even missing two limbs. You will get yourself killed.”

“Who says I need to prove anything to myself?”

“Because I think we both know you have nothing to prove to me.”

Ed opened his mouth to argue but was interrupted by Al’s return.

“I’m back!” he said cheerfully. “They didn’t have a lot, but I figured some meat buns would be fine. The lady at the counter said they smelled good.” He handed one to Mustang and then another to Ed.

“Thanks, Al,” he mumbled. He went to grab the meat bun only to remember he no longer had a right hand. He looked down at his knees, cheeks heating up once more, and grabbed it with his left hand.

Al either didn’t notice or decided not to comment.

“Has he been mean to you, colonel?” Al sat down next to him, shielding him from the stares of the other passengers. He didn’t know if they were staring at him or if it was all in his head.

“He tried to kick me to death not too long ago,” Mustang sighed dramatically.

This got Ed to snap his gaze back towards the smug bastard. If only he could light him on fire with nothing more than his glare.

“I barely made it out alive.”

“Asshole, I barely touched you.” He snapped.

“Now, now, Fullmetal, remember what I said about calling your commanding officer names.” He smirked at him! An honest to God smug smirk.

“You better watch out. I might like working under Fleck more than I like working under you. Then, I’ll put in a transfer and you’ll have to do your dirty work.”

“Perish the thought. I might get through a month without having to spend millions of cenz cleaning up your messes.”

“Brother,” Al sighed.

“Are you not going to scold him too? He’s the one making all those snide comments!”

Al turned to look at Mustang. “Colonel,” he scolded. Ed suspected that Al and Hawkeye spent time together, perfecting their disappointed tones of voice. It would explain how Al managed to weaponize it so effectively.

This made Mustang laugh. “Relax, Al. We all know Fullmetal is all bark and no bite.”

This got Ed to grumble even more, though he couldn’t think of a snappy comeback. He just angrily ate the meat bun, making sure that Mustang knew just how pissed off he was. Mustang ate his like Ed wasn’t even sitting across from him. Asshole.

He knew he probably wouldn’t like Colonel Beck. He’d probably be like every other asshole in this military. He just hoped he wasn’t too much of a jerk. And he hoped that these next four weeks were not the most boring weeks of his life.

He knew Mustang was right. He couldn’t go looking for trouble like this. Even if he had Al with him, it was too much of a risk. He never bothered to learn how to fight one-handed and with a prosthetic because he assumed he would never need to.

Weakened but not useless. Wasn’t that what Mustang was trying to get at? He sure as hell felt pretty useless like this. Couldn’t even walk on a moving train without pitching forward because his balance was so shitty.

“What happens if my parts come in early?” he asked, finishing up the meat bun. “Can I get back on active duty?”

“Nope. You’re assigned to Colonel Fleck for the next four weeks.”

He felt himself flush with anger. “What the hell? Why?”

Mustang smirked at him again. “Think of it as punishment for breaking them in the first place.”

What an absolute asshole.

*****

Mustang sent Al to the library as soon as they got off the train. Ed wanted to argue with him, but he pointed out that they didn’t know anything about Fleck and the Records Room had a lot of sensitive information in them that Al wouldn’t be allowed to see. It was better for him to meet with just the two of them first to test the waters.

Ed hated him for that. Al was his support system. He was the one that made him feel like he could take on the world. To be all alone, without him at his back… well that just made this whole experience worse. Sure, he had Mustang by his side, but it wasn’t the same.

And the whispers he heard. As he limped through the courtyard of Central Command, the whispers were back. They sounded even louder than they had on the train. He wished Al was here so he could pretend those whispers weren’t about him. He slouched down and stared at the ground, desperate to just disappear from all the stares.

“Stand up straight, Fullmetal,” Mustang said.

He glanced up at him. He was standing up tall, looking forward, seemingly not noticing what anyone was saying. To Ed, though, the whispers were as loud as screams. He felt like everyone was closing in around him, following him, watching him, studying him. Waiting for him to do something that would justify everything they were saying about him. He wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. He wanted to disappear. He wanted people to quit fucking looking at him and stop talking about him.

“What?”

“Slouching down like that is vindicating everything they’re saying in their minds. Stand up straight. Unless you think they’re right?”

So he was hearing what everyone was whispering.

“I don’t think they’re right,” Ed spat, though he did stop slouching. He actually felt a bit… better? A bit more secure in his footing, both literal and metaphorical. Huh. Who knew Mustang could be encouraging?

“Better,” Mustang said, marching forward in a way that seemed to part the sea of people, even if it was only in Ed’s mind. “I’ve already told you about Colonel Fleck. But you’ll also be working with a few lieutenants. Lieutenant Bosco works under Fleck. Lieutenant Harrison works under General Grieves. And then there’s Lieutenant Morgan.

“Morgan? Who’s that?”

Mustang shrugged. “Not sure. I know he works for Colonel Olson out West, but other than that, I don’t know anything about him. Do you think I know every person in the military?”

“Yeah. With all your brown-nosing, I thought you would.”

“I don’t. Don’t step on his toes, though.”

“I know. I know. Be a good little soldier for four weeks so I don’t get kicked out of the military.”

Mustang nodded. “Good. You’re listening to me. I might have to call the Fuhrer to request this be a national holiday.”

“Bastard.”

“Although maybe I should wait until the day you stop calling me names.”

“Fucking bastard.”

It took him a bit to get up that massive fucking staircase in front of Central Command. He never realized just how much he relied on the ability to bend his knee to make his life easier. This place wasn’t built for people with missing limbs in mind. That left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Despite him taking so long to get up the staircase, Mustang didn’t say anything. He didn’t make any comments about how slow he was being. He didn’t tap his foot impatiently. More importantly, he didn’t hover behind or beside Ed like he was afraid he’d tumble down to the ground. He walked up the stairs, likely at a slower pace than normal, and then waited at the top for Ed, reading through files he had with him until he caught up and then moving on as if this was completely normal. Again, he was kind of glad Mustang was with him and not treating him like glass and telling him to stand up straight. He didn’t believe what the whispers were saying. He was weakened like this, but not useless. He was capable like this, just capable in different ways.

He wasn’t glass. He wasn’t useless. He was just… slower than normal. He had to be a bit more careful, move with a bit more thought. Though, the more he got used to the prosthetic, the less he’d have to think about it. Eventually, it’d be normal for him.

“I’m going to have to leave earlier than normal if I want to get to work on time,” he grumbled when he finally made it to the top step.

“You’re concerned with getting to work on time? Who are you and what have you done with my major?”

Ed elbowed him in the side for that. “Weren’t you just going on and on about how I had to be professional? ‘Fullmetal, don’t call Colonel Fleck a bastard.’ ‘Fullmetal, don’t start fights with Lieutenant Morgan.’ ‘Fullmetal, act like a dog and do whatever he says no matter what’.”

“Just so you know, I’m making notes on everything you’re doing right so when you get transferred back over to my command, I have proof that you are capable of being a responsible and professional person.”

“Don’t count on it. I respect Colonel Fleck’s time and work. I don’t respect you.”

“Whatever you say.” Mustang rolled his eyes and continued to lead him through Central Command.

Ed made sure to track exactly where they were going and how they were getting to the records room. He wasn’t familiar with Central Command’s layout and the last thing he wanted was to get lost. It was something that would have happened even if he had all his limbs, but he had a feeling people would use it as an excuse to pity and baby him even more.

Finally, Mustang led him to a nondescript door at the end of the main hallway on the first floor. When he opened it, Ed nearly quit right there. As it turned out, the Records Room was in the basement. Which meant even more stairs. Yay! If Ed thought going up was a struggle, going down was even worse. He tried to go down like he normally would, one foot on each step. He lost his balance and crashed into Mustang’s back. Luckily, he didn’t send both of them sprawling to the bottom with deadly concussions. Mostly because Mustang managed to keep his balance and grab onto Ed to steady him.

Fuck, this entire shitty situation was just getting shittier and shittier. Even still, as soon as Mustang helped right him, he let go and continued down the stairs without a comment. Ed silently (and begrudgingly) thanked him for that and took the stairs one at a time once more.

Finally, he hit the bottom without any more incidents. “They should make this place more accessible,” he grumbled. It would take him forever to get from the dorms, up the stairs, and down the stairs in a reasonable amount of time. Why couldn’t they have like a ramp or something to make it easier to get up and down?

“I’ll put in a suggestion,” Mustang said. He couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

They followed the twisting labyrinth to a door marked Records Room at the very end of the hallway. Mustang knocked on it. When he didn’t receive a response, he opened the door and pushed his way in, Ed following him hesitantly.

“Oh, shit,” Ed said upon seeing what was laid out in front of him.

Mustang elbowed him in the gut, but he didn’t care. In front of him was an absolute disaster area. Papers stacked to the ceiling surrounded the place. There was hardly a bare spot on the floor. And where there weren’t stacks of paper, there were piles of paper. How the hell was he supposed to organize all of this in a month?

“Did I hear someone come in?” A voice called from somewhere in this paper hellscape.

“Colonel Fleck?” Mustang called out. “This is Colonel Mustang here with Major Elric. Where are you?”

“Oh! Oh yes. Hang on, I’m in a bit of a predicament. I’ll be out in a second. I’m by the R’s!”

Mustang and Ed looked around.

“Where are the R’s?” he asked, upon not seeing anything remotely labeled.

“Yes, yes. I’m working on it. Hang on.” Fleck called once more. He sounded like he was pretty close to him. But he couldn’t see anyone.

His question was answered when an arm popped out of a pile of papers to his right. Mustang flinched and brought up his hand to snap. Ed quickly yanked it back down.

“Don’t snap in here, idiot! This entire place is filled with tinder.”

The arm struggled a bit more until another popped up to join it.

Mustang and Ed shared a look.

“Grab the left one and I’ll grab the right one?” he suggested.

Mustang nodded and gripped the flailing arm. Ed got himself set up on the other side.

“On three,” Mustang said. “One, two, three.”

They both yanked the arms out of the pile, a man quickly following. With their combined force, all three of them ended up in a heap on the floor. Ed’s prosthetic twisting in the process. He winced as it pinched his leg.

“Thank you, thank you so much. I thought I’d be stuck in there forever,” the man said. He had round glasses on and an equally round face. He seemed to be in his fifties with hair that was just starting to go gray. His military uniform was askew and there was a five-o’clock shadow on his face. He looked friendly enough, if not a little rumpled from his time spent literally buried in papers.

Ed managed to twist his leg back in place. Mustang grabbed the back of his coat and set him back on his feet. He batted away his hand. The man, who he assumed was Colonel Fleck, pushed himself up and frantically tried to straighten his uniform.

“Um, are you Colonel Fleck?” Mustang asked.

“Yes, I am. It’s good to finally meet you in person. I think we have met before at an event or two, but you know those military events. So many names and faces flying by you. I’m sorry if we have met before. I don’t mean to cause any offense.” He bowed to Mustang, causing Ed to roll his eyes.

“None taken. I thought you had a crew around here. Why are you all alone?”

“Off for lunch. I like to give them some extra time since we don’t see sunlight down here. They should be back any minute.” He finally turned to Ed and smiled at him. “And you must be Major Elric, nice to meet you.”

“Um, nice to meet you too.” He went to salute only to realize he still didn’t have his right arm and never did get an answer from Mustang if this was an insult or not. “Um… I don’t’ know if you want me to salute or…”

Fleck blinked at him a few times as if he didn’t understand what Ed was implying. Then he shook his head. “Oh, no, no need for that. In the battle to organize the world, we are all equals.”

Ed glanced at Mustang, who just shrugged.

“Oh, where are my manners! Let me give you a tour and tell you what you’ll be doing.” He then glanced down at Ed’s leg.

Ed was about to slouch down, but remembered Mustang’s words and forced himself to stand straight and pretend like he didn’t notice how Fleck’s gaze lingered on his missing arm.

“Is he going to be okay? I’d hate to push him too hard.” He looked at Mustang.

Ed gritted his teeth. Why did Fleck ask Mustang this? It was Ed’s body. Surely, he’d know better than Mustang what he was and was not capable of! It’d be different if he was unconscious or not here or some shit like that. But Fleck had spoken to him! He had heard Ed talk and knew he wasn’t on the mental level of a toddler. He could answer questions about his own damn body.

Mustang put a hand on his shoulder, grounding him. Keeping him from punching Fleck in the face. This was off to a bad start. “I can assure you, Colonel Fleck, Fullmetal is perfectly capable like this. If he weren’t, I’d have put him on medical leave. And any other questions or concerns you have about his capabilities can be directed to him. I trust his judgment when it comes to his abilities.”

Right. Right. He wasn’t useless. He was perfectly capable of organizing some records. He was just not as good of a fighter as he normally was. Hell, he could probably ask Al to draw a transmutation circle on his palm and the back of his hand just in case he needed to do some quick alchemy. Maybe one for metal and one for general stonework? There. That would make it so he wasn’t useless. Weakened but not useless. He could organize Fleck’s stupid records just as well as anyone else.

“Of course, of course. Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend. Come, this way.” He motioned to them and started walking across the floor.

Ed shook off Mustang’s hand and followed.

“We first separated the files based on their classification. Now that we have that done, we’re working on organizing them by case type, then alphabetical by the last name of the first author, then by date,” Fleck said, leading them deeper into the paper labyrinth.

He stopped in front of a large stack of documents. “Given your rank and your security clearance, you’ll be working on classified documents over here. Mostly with me.”

He turned to him, face grave and serious. “I will only tell you this once, under no circumstances are any lieutenants allowed to see these documents. Not even my own lieutenants. And you are not allowed to repeat anything you find to anyone. Not even your commanding officer. Do you understand?”

Ed nodded. “Yes, sir. I understand.” Just what was in these files that he couldn’t even tell Mustang about? That made him even more curious. Also, was it a good idea to put him in charge of classified documents? He knew he was a major in the military, but he was just a kid. This felt like a recipe for disaster even if he wasn’t going to blab about anything he saw.

“Good, good. I mean, to be fair, Colonel Mustang has a high enough security clearance he can request whatever he wants to begin with. And I’d prefer you not to read them at all, but we all catch a glimpse here and there.” He laughed.

Mustang did not laugh. Ed did not laugh.

Fleck cleared his throat awkwardly and continued. “As I said, the files should all be organized, but I’m certain a few have gotten kicked under shelves or mixed up during the shuffle. If you see anything that doesn’t appear to belong or you find something that seems to have gotten lost, let me know and I’ll take a look at it. Anyways, Colonel, thank you for donating him to me. I’ll have him back in four weeks!” Fleck shook Mustang’s hand.

“Maybe teach him the wonders of organization while you’re at it,” Mustang said, smirking.

Fleck brightened up so much, Ed could swear he was lighting the entire room by himself. “Oh, that’s a wonderful idea! I have an entire presentation about the perfect file folder system for income statements!”

Ed paled. “Um… I don’t think I need that.”

“Nonsense. You say that now, but when tax season comes along, you’ll be glad to have it.”

Before Ed could argue that he didn’t need it, he heard the door open and some voices drift into the room. Fleck glanced around him to see who had come in.

“Oh, that’ll be the lieutenants, back from their break. Excuse me for a second, I have to give them their duties for the afternoon.” He rushed back out into the main part of the room.

Ed wondered if he should follow him since he was technically working for him now. But Mustang put a hand on his shoulder to stop him from leaving. He looked up at him, wondering what else there was to discuss. He handed him a piece of paper with what looked like a phone number scribbled on it.

“What’s this?” Ed asked, taking it.

“My home phone number, in case you or your brother need anything. I know you know the office one, but just in case you need to contact me and I’m not there, you’ll have this. Don’t contact me unless it’s an emergency. I don’t need you bothering me at all hours of the night because you enjoy making my life difficult.”

He furrowed his brow and looked up at him. “Why would we need anything? Isn’t Lieutenant Colonel Hughes and Major Armstrong going to be here? And can’t I go to Fleck too?”

“Because, I know I told you on the train not to stick your nose into anything, but I also know you and your brother are trouble magnets. I’d rather have some way for you to contact me in case Hughes or Armstrong isn’t available.”

Ed stuffed the note in his pocket. He wondered why Mustang didn’t mention anything about Fleck. Maybe because he didn’t know him well enough?

“Make no mistake, though, Fullmetal, this isn’t permission to go looking for trouble. I want the most exciting thing to happen to you these next four weeks to be a presentation on the benefits of color-coding your military expense reports. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it. Don’t go looking for serial killers. Don’t go looking for corrupt government officials. Don’t go looking for rogue alchemists. You know I don’t go looking for trouble, trouble usually finds me.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.” Mustang turned. “Don’t cause any property damage. And don’t get yourself killed.”

“Seriously, it’s not like I try to get into trouble,” he grumbled again.

Mustang either didn’t hear him or didn’t feel like commenting as he glanced back towards the lieutenants that were now in the room.

“I have to go. I do actually have a meeting with General Raven this afternoon. Remember what I said.”

“I know, bastard. Seriously, you don’t have to repeat yourself so many times. I’m not deaf.”

“Really? Based on how rarely you listen to me, I was starting to wonder.”

Ed glared at him.

“And remember, you’re perfectly capable like this. Don’t let the whispers get to you.”

Before Ed could even comprehend what he had said, Mustang clapped him on the shoulder for a split second and then turned to leave the room. Ed watched him go and then took a deep breath. He’d be fine. He was sure the lieutenants were all pleasant people to be around. He was just as nervous before meeting the rest of Mustang’s Team before he joined and they all turned out to be great. He was fine. This would all be fine. This would be the most boring four weeks of his life, but he was actually kind of looking forward to it. He wasn’t joking when he told Mustang he didn’t go looking for trouble. Something about the idea of not getting shot at, blown up, or kidnapped by whatever crazy person of the week Mustang sent him after sounded like heaven. He might even be able to get more than a few hours of sleep. And, four weeks with an actual bed? Even if it was the shitty dorm beds were going to be amazing. He just wished he was doing anything besides re-organizing
bunch of boring old records. Even if it sounded like there were some cool classified records for him to look through, he doubted Fleck would let him sit there and read through them.

He took another deep breath and stepped out into the chaos.

“Oh, Major Elric,” Fleck said, smiling as he reemerged from the piles. “I was just telling the lieutenants about you. Lieutenant Bosco works underneath me.”

Lieutenant Bosco was a young woman with bright, curly red hair. She smiled at him and saluted. “I’m excited to work with you. You’re an alchemist? How exciting!”

Ed smiled back. “Yeah, I guess.”

“I’ve dabbled a bit, but I’m nowhere near good enough to be a state alchemist. You must be pretty good.”

“Really? That’s great. What kind of alchemy do you do?”

“Alright, alright,” Fleck laughed, “You two will have plenty of time to discuss alchemy when we’re organizing. Let’s get through introductions first. This is Lieutenant Harrison, who normally works under General Grieves, but the general graciously loaned him out to me to help with this project.”

Lieutenant Harrison also saluted. “Nice to meet you, sir. I look forward to working with you.” He didn’t have any hair, though Ed couldn’t tell if it was because he had lost all of it or if he just shaved it down to the scalp. He looked a little scary and muscular with a scar underneath his eye and what looked like a tattoo peeking out from underneath his collar. That didn’t seem like it fit with the military uniform regulation. Then again, Mustang let his crew get away with a lot when it came to military regulation. Hell, Ed didn’t even own an official uniform.

“And finally we have Lieutenant Morgan, who normally worked under Colonel Olson out in Western Command. He volunteered to take on this wonderful project with us!”

“What can I say? Organization is my passion,” he said in a deadpan voice.

Ed noticed he didn’t salute. He normally didn’t care much for military protocol, but this felt a little rude. Lieutenant Morgan was a tall man with light brown hair that was cropped close to his scalp. He had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, but it wasn’t lit. He had dark circles under his eyes and seemed to be glaring at Ed. Maybe that was just his imagination.

“Um, right.” Colonel Fleck seemed to catch onto Morgan’s bad mood and laughed nervously.

“Major Elric, you and Morgan will be working on getting all the unclassified A’s in order this afternoon. Lieutenant Harrison and Lieutenant Bosco, you two will start working on the unclassified B’s. I’ll be in the back reorganizing some of the classified documents that got unorganized during the shuffle. You all remember how we’re organizing them?”

“Yes sir!” Lieutenant Bosco said, snapping into another salute. She smiled brightly in a way that made Ed feel more at ease.

Morgan rolled his eyes. Harrison muttered something about how she was way too peppy for this work.

“Great! Let’s go, team! If we manage to work fast and work hard, we can get most of this done by the end of the month!” Fleck gave them a thumbs up. “Especially now that Major Elric is here. I’ll be so happy once I cross this project off my list.”

“I never thought I’d hear you say that, sir.” Bosco laughed. “He loves to organize things. Anytime he starts talking about the different types of file folders, run far and run fast.” She winked at him.

He smiled at her, feeling a bit more at ease with the group.

“Don’t scare the kid,” Harrison said. “Besides, we all know when the colonel starts talking about file folders, there is no escape.”

Fleck laughed with them and playfully scolded them to get to work. Bosco and Harrison immediately jumped into work and started sifting through files. They seemed to understand at least a bit of the chaos in the room. To Ed, though, it looked like a mess. Where the hell was the A’s even?

Morgan let out a sigh and shuffled over to the very right corner of the room. Since Ed still wasn’t sure how any of this was even remotely organized, he decided to follow him.

“So, you volunteered to do this?” He asked. He plopped down on the floor and picked up a stack of papers. What did Fleck say to do? Date, alphabetical, and then the author? No, there was something else that he was missing.

“I don’t know why anyone would want to spend their days stuck in a basement.” He decided to start organizing them by date. He knew the date thing was important.

Morgan made no move to talk to him. Ed glowered. Normally, he wasn’t much for small talk either. He hated it when people talked to him unprompted. But if he didn’t talk, then he had to listen to Bosco and Harrison talking and laughing amongst themselves and it made him feel weird. Besides, he wanted to know why Morgan seemed to instinctively hate his guts.

“Is there any way you want to split up the work—”

“Kid, quit talking to me and just let me get my work done,” Morgan snapped.

Ed shut his mouth, taken aback by his venomous words. What was this guy’s problem? Was it him or was Morgan just having a bad day? Either way, he didn’t like the way he snapped at him. He felt like that was uncalled for. Hell, whatever bad day Morgan was having probably wasn’t anywhere close to the bad day Ed was having. Seriously, let Morgan listen to people whisper and stare at him for five fucking hours and see how good of a mood he was in then.

“Fine. Just wanted to make sure we were on the same page,” he grumbled. Fleck said something about case type too! That was what he was missing. Shit. Did case type come before or after date?

He almost asked Morgan but then thought better of it. If he was going to mess up this work, then so be it. That’d just make Morgan stay here longer. No matter how many files Ed organized, he was out of here in four weeks. If Morgan wanted to be a dick about the whole thing, then he’d suffer the consequences. It made no difference to Ed whatsoever. He handed Morgan and file and settled in for the first day of his boring four weeks.

Chapter Text

“Oh, is that the time!” Fleck exclaimed, breaking Ed out of the trance-like state he had entered somewhere around hour four.

He pulled out his pocket watch and winced when he saw it was nearly eight-thirty in the evening. They were supposed to be finished at six. No wonder he was so hungry and tired.

“I guess time really does fly when you’re having fun,” Fleck laughed, standing up and dusting off his pants. Though, this attempt to straighten out his uniform did little to make it presentable.

Ed didn’t think it was possible to get so dirty organizing papers. He was covered in dust, grime, and something that looked suspiciously like mold that had been growing on the corner of one of the shelves.

“Sir, I think you’re the only one having fun,” Bosco said before yawning. Her chipper demeanor had steadily been decreasing as the hours wore on. She was still probably the peppiest one here (except for maybe Fleck), but now she was more at a normal level of pep.

Ed couldn’t blame her. Hell, now that he had been down here for close to seven hours, he could understand why Morgan was so snappy. His back hurt. His but hurt. His shoulders hurt. His legs were numb (and he only had a leg and a half to be numb). He was covered in grime. His eyes hurt. His head was starting to throb. He was thirsty and he was tired. And that was only after one day! If Morgan had been working for over a month, then it was no wonder he had such a bad attitude. And it made Ed respect Bosco and Harrison so much more for having a good attitude.

Fuck, who knew that just sitting inside a building all day could kick his ass more than running after crazed maniacs? Mustang was going to get an earful the next time Ed talked to him. This was the worst thing he had ever put Ed through.

Despite the discomfort he felt, he had to admit it wasn’t all bad. After about three hours, he pulled off his coat to make a cushion of sorts to sit on. It did help with the aforementioned butt pain, but little else. And, even though Morgan seemed to hate him when they first met, he seemed to tolerate him by the end. They didn’t say a word to each other after Ed’s pathetic attempt at small talk earlier. But, they didn’t have to. They got into a sort of rhythm. Ed would organize the files in boxes and then Morgan would take the finished boxes, rifle through them quickly (Rude. Ed could organize a fucking box) and put them on the towering bookshelves. It was meditative in a way and allowed Ed’s mind to wander. He could work through alchemical problems and think up new ideas to research once he got to the library. It was nice. Much more productive than he initially thought it would be.

By the end of the day, they had gotten through almost all the files scattered on the floor of the ‘A’ section. As much as Ed hated to admit it, maybe Fleck was onto something with this whole ‘organizational bug’ thing. There was something very satisfying about seeing the floor slowly clear and the shelves slowly fill with neatly stacked boxes and files.

He could still do without all the body aches, grime, and general discomfort.

“I’m so sorry, guys,” Fleck said “I’ll treat you all to dinner this Friday. My treat.”

“Wahoo! Boss is treating us to food,” Harrison groaned from where he had collapsed on the floor.

Bosco laughed and dragged him upright. “That’s a dangerous thing to say, boss. We all know Harrison can eat a horse if given enough time.”

Fleck smiled. “I know, I know. But, you all deserve a little treat. I mean, look at all you’ve managed to accomplish today! Thanks to your hard work, the A’s and B’s are almost done. Did you happen to find anything of interest? Anything that you don’t think belonged in the section?”

Ed thought back to everything he had filed away. To be perfectly honest, he had stopped paying attention very quickly and was focused more on the alchemy in his head. So, he shook his head, wondering if that was something he was supposed to be looking for.

“Nope, boss. Sorry about that,” Harrison said.

“No need to be sorry!” Fleck said. “That’s good. That means the piles we made last month haven’t gotten mixed with anything else. Alright, guys, get going. Enjoy the rest of your night. Be sure to be here bright and early tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir!” Bosco said, snapping into one final salute. That seemed to be the last of the energy she could muster as she practically deflated walking to the door.

Harrison and Morgan followed her, both practically dragging their feet as they stumbled out the door and into the dark hallway.

Ed struggled to get off the ground. Even if he had had his automail it would have been a struggle considering how stiff he was. But now it was even worse. Mustang said not to let the whispers get to him, but what could he do about the whispers in his head? He was acutely aware of how difficult it was to balance. How much the prosthetic did not want to move and help him stand up. How much he had to contort his body to get off the ground. He felt Fleck’s eyes staring at him. Watching him. He swallowed and managed to push his way to his feet. On one hand, he was glad Fleck didn’t ask if he needed help. On the other hand, it wasn’t much better to sit there and stare at him.

He straightened his shoulders the best he could and walked towards the staircase.

“You can go in front of me, Colonel Fleck,” he said as the man hovered behind him. “It’s going to take me a while to get up the stairs and I’m sure you’re tired.”

“Sorry, major. I can’t. I have to be the one to lock up. I trust you won’t look at any classified documents, but there are a lot of enemies of the state just itching to get their hands on some of these documents. Don’t worry, I don’t mind. An old guy like me has trouble with stairs too.”

He winced and nodded, knowing he wouldn’t be able to argue his way out of this one. It made sense, of course. That didn’t mean he was happy about it. He started to climb the staircase, the other lieutenants already disappearing into the night.

“Why do you have trouble with stairs?” he asked, still feeling Fleck’s gaze on his back. He would try and go faster, but after nearly busting Mustang’s skull open earlier today, he decided not to risk it. The last thing he needed was to call Mustang on his first day to tell him he accidentally killed Fleck.

“Old war wound. I was shot in the knee. It still works, but when you combine that with age, well, stairs are a bit of an issue. That’s why I’m not out in the field anymore, I’m afraid. Not that I mind. I never was one for direct confrontation with the enemy. If you don’t mind me asking, how did you lose your limbs?”

“It was an alchemy accident when I was younger.”

Fleck laughed. “Boy, if you were any younger, you’d be in the womb.”

He rolled his eyes and continued focusing on getting up the stairs. “You’re the one who asked.”

“I suppose I did. Enough about depressing topics. How was your first day? Sorry to have paired you with Morgan, but he and Harrison don’t get along at all. I don’t know what his problem is.”

“Maybe his girlfriend dumped him,” Ed said.

“Maybe.”

“And today went fine. I’m glad we’re almost done with the A’s.”

“That’s great to hear. Tomorrow, you’ll be helping me with the classified documents. I just wanted to give the lieutenants a jumpstart on the unclassified ones. Especially since Morgan can pretty much only work alone. You should have seen him and Bosco the other day. I didn’t think she was capable of getting angry with someone.”

This made Ed pause. Yes, Morgan had a bad attitude when he first got there, but he hadn’t continued to have a bad attitude for the rest of the day. Just what was this guy’s problem?

“Sorry for keeping you so late,” Fleck continued. “I did lose track of time. I wouldn’t mind organizing for a few more hours, but I know the rest of you are probably tired. Maybe I should request for General Grieves to give me a clock or something down there. Or, you are a state alchemist, don’t you have a pocket watch?”

“Um, yeah,” Ed said. The hairs on the back of his neck bristled.

“Maybe you should be our official timekeeper. It’s not the first time I lost track of time and had my poor lieutenants stay well into the night. It’s hard once you get into a rhythm, you know?”

He nodded, still uncomfortably aware of the fact that Fleck was behind him, forced to go at his snailish pace. The man said he had an old injury that made him take stairs slower than most people, but he may have just said that to make Ed feel better.

“However, I don’t think my wallet can take much more of Harrison’s monstrous appetite.”

“I don’t mind keeping track of the time,” he said. He was starting to get a little uncomfortable. He didn’t like talking to people on the best of days and nothing about today made it ‘the best of days’. He also felt trapped, with Fleck behind him and a seemingly endless amount of stairs in front of him. He couldn’t go any faster and he couldn’t go anywhere. He was forced to stay here and listen to Fleck’s endless questions and chatter. Even the walls seemed to be closing in on him, making the space tighter and tighter as he went up. And the stairs seemed to get bigger and bigger, forcing him to go even slower.

“And the work isn’t too much for you? I don’t know your limitations. Especially given your, um, current state.”

His entire body was screaming at him to get out of this situation. He hated that his back was exposed to a man he didn’t know. It would be so easy for Fleck to hurt him. To attack him and he’d have no way to defend himself. He wanted to get away from here. He wanted to run as fast as he could to the library, to Al. Why couldn’t Fleck shut up? Why was he insistent on talking to him? On asking him questions?

“You heard Colonel Mustang, sir.” He forced himself to sound calm, personable. Not panicky and irritable. “I’m perfectly capable. Besides, it’s not like you’re asking me to run all over Central or something. I can file documents perfectly well like this.”

“I suppose that’s true. And you’ve more than proved yourself today. I’m not being facetious when I say you are a godsend, boy. Even if we don’t get it all done in the four weeks you’re here, we’ll make much more progress.”

Finally, they reached the top of the staircase and Ed was finally able to get away from him. He gave Fleck a half-hearted wave and told him goodnight before practically bolting for the front door; finally feeling like he could breathe. It wasn’t like he was trying to be mean. But even after all his work today, he still felt like he was patronizing him. Would he ask Morgan if he had limitations because he wasn’t able to smoke in the basement? Would he sit there and ask Bosco if the work was too much for her because she couldn’t reach the higher shelves? Mustang said Ed could do it. Ed said he could do it. Fleck should trust their judgments and not ask if he was alright.

The hallways were practically empty this late at night, with only a few soldiers still milling about. They didn’t’ seem to pay Ed much attention and no whispers followed him to the front door. Today was almost done. He’d go to the library and collapse next to Al. Maybe he’d even get some sleep tonight. Fuck knows he was exhausted.

He pushed open the doors and was hit with an icy blast of air. He was also hit with the realization that that wouldn’t be happening. He shivered and growled. In his haste to get out of the records room and away from the awkward conversations with Fleck, he had forgotten to grab his coat. He debated, briefly, about just leaving it and picking it up tomorrow.

Another gust of wind practically knocked him on his ass. He looked down the hundreds of stairs it would take to get to the parade field and then the many, many, many yards it would take to get to the library. It’d take him forever and it was freezing out here.

Groaning, he turned around and headed back inside. Fleck had the only key to the basement. But, there was more than one way to skin a cat. He dug around his pockets and grinned when he found a bit of chalk. He’d just open up the wall, slip in, grab his coat, slip out, and then close the wall. It would be like nothing happened. Besides, he wasn’t going to make a habit of this. He wasn’t going to read through the documents or take anything out of the room. Fleck would never have to know!

He kept his eyes and ears peeled for any soldiers coming his way. He didn’t want Fleck to find him and get mad he was trying to sneak back into the room. Fleck never said he couldn’t go back into the records room. He just said he needed to lock it up.

Hah! Loophole spotted.

Ed made it to the staircase without running into anyone and started his descent, trying to go as fast as possible without tripping and breaking his neck. Wouldn’t that be a riot? Going through the gate didn’t kill him. Getting blown sky-high didn’t kill him. But going down the stairs would. The newspapers would have a field day with that. Mustang would figure out a way to strangle him from beyond the grave. Hell, the man might even do human transmutation to bring him back to life just so he could kill him again.

He got to the bottom of the stairs and crept along the wall. Now that all the lights were out, it was kind of creepy down here. He knew, logically, there was nothing in the basement that would hurt him. He learned very early on that monsters lurking in the shadows didn’t exist. No demons were hiding in the corners, waiting to grab him with their claws. But that childish fear of dark basements never truly left him and he felt unnerved and on edge all the same.

He stopped in front of the door. This would be the easiest way to get in and out of the room, but what if someone noticed it? Even if he put the door back the same way, alchemy left marks. Bosco might see them and recognize what that meant. That alone would be enough to cause panic as everyone would rush to make sure no spies had broken in to steal something.

So, that meant he had to go with Plan B. He felt his way along the wall until he got to where he thought there was an open space in the bookshelves. If he had the layout in his mind correct, this was about where he and Morgan had worked on the A’s earlier. Which was an even better place to bust in because that meant his coat was nearby. He pulled out the chalk and started doing the array.

“I forgot how long this takes to do by hand,” he groaned. “No wonder so many state alchemists get their arrays tattooed on their bodies.”

He wondered about Mustang’s arrays; if they’d still work tattooed on his hands. And speaking of Mustang’s arrays, did he sew them onto the gloves himself or did he have someone do them up special? Given how protective he was over his flame alchemy, he couldn’t imagine him passing the task off to someone else. But, he also couldn’t imagine Mustang with a needle and thread painstakingly embroidering the circle onto each individual glove. Maybe he passed the task off to Hawkeye?

Finally, he finished drawing the array. There was a brief crackle of brilliant blue electricity before everything went silent once more. He let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding and peeked inside. Thankfully, it looked like he was right on the money. He had positioned the hole almost perfectly between the bookcases he and Morgan had been working on earlier.

He grinned and slipped through it. Sure enough, his coat was right where he left it, lying on the ground. This was almost too easy. And a major security concern. He’d have to bring it up to Hughes later. Though, the man had more security concerns to worry about. There were the tunnels that went underneath Central Command. The lack of guards where the Fuhrer lived. The lack of background checks and psychiatry exams for state alchemists. And a thousand other things he liked to complain about.

He crawled to his coat on his hands and knees, not knowing why he was trying to be quiet. It wasn’t like anyone was down here. Except, apparently he was wrong as he heard clattering from the other end of the room.

He froze.

Maybe some papers decided they no longer wanted to be in stacks so tall they rivaled mountains and finally succumbed to the laws of gravity.

There was another clatter.

He scrambled behind a tall stack of paper, heart pounding. He should be alone down here. He was certain Fleck was gone as were the rest of the lieutenants. The lights were out. No one else should be down here. And it certainly wasn’t a monster coming to eat him. It was just papers falling. Or the building settling.

He peaked out from behind his stack, his eyes finally adjusting to the darkness. He almost wished they hadn’t because now he could see exactly who was making that noise.

Morgan was walking through the room.

No…

Ed was sure he left with the other lieutenants. He wasn’t in the room when he and Fleck left. And, if Fleck didn’t want Ed to be down here by himself, he certainly didn’t want Morgan to be here alone.

He clapped a hand over his mouth to silence his breathing. Though, his heart was pounding so loudly he was sure Morgan could hear it. What was he doing here? It didn’t look like he was carrying any papers, but he had definitely come from the classified section of the room. Could he be going through the files? Maybe he was like Falman and had a photographic memory. He didn’t need to take the files with him, he just needed to read them.

But he didn’t have the clearance to do that! And Fleck didn’t want anyone down here alone!

Morgan stopped right in front of his paper pile. His heart rate increased and he glanced at the small hole in the wall. Thankfully, it was behind the paper pile as well so hopefully, Morgan couldn’t see it. Maybe he should make a break for it. If he hurried, he might be able to put enough distance between him and Morgan to get out without being seen. Except… the stairs were still an issue. If Morgan stayed down here for another few minutes, Ed would be able to get out of here before he found him. If he left or saw Ed and chased after him, there was no way he’d be able to outrun him.

His entire body was shaking. Morgan looked around, eyes narrowing briefly before walking to the door and opening it. Ed heard the lock click and then the distinct scent of cigarette smoke filling the air.

Ed didn’t dare move. Morgan would have to walk right by the hole he had made. It wasn’t too big and lower to the ground. If Morgan was distracted, he might walk past it without noticing it. He had to walk past it without noticing it. Ed couldn’t risk using alchemy to close it. It was too flashy. Too attention-grabbing.

He heard his footsteps. Closer. Louder. Closer. Louder. Closer. Louder. Closer. Louder.

He thought he heard his pocket watch ticking. Counting down the seconds until Morgan would pass by him. He kept his hand clamped over his mouth, his entire body frozen and rigid. His mind wasn’t frozen, though. It was running through hundreds of different options and scenarios, trying to figure out which one was the best. He was running out of time. Morgan was almost here. It felt like he was walking right behind him.

Morgan’s steps passed by him. Farther. Softer. Farther. Softer. Farther. Softer.

Ed remained frozen for a few more seconds, his brain struggling to catch up with what had just happened. Still slightly afraid Morgan would reappear at any second, ready to kill him.

When he finally felt safe knowing Morgan wasn’t going to come back, he dropped his hand and let out a sigh of relief. Morgan didn’t notice the hole. He didn’t know Ed was down here and had seen him. He leaned against the bookshelf, the tension in his body leaving as he felt happy knowing he hadn’t been caught.

That feeling didn’t last long. Anxiety started to bubble up in his stomach and questions flooded his mind. What was Morgan doing down here? Had he forgotten something as well and came down here to get it? If so, why would Fleck give him the keys when he made such a big fuss about the classified records and locking the door?

He should tell someone what he saw, right? That would be the right thing to do. The responsible thing to do. He could tell Hughes and have him look into it. He should probably also tell Fleck since this was his project.

But… he hadn’t actually seen Morgan leave with anything. And, while he came from the Classified Records direction, that wasn’t the only thing over there. There was a desk that they used to pile some of their personal belongings on. What if he forgot his lighter or something? What if Fleck did, in fact, send him to come get something. He very clearly locked the door when he left so that meant he had keys to this place. Maybe Fleck trusted him more than he did Ed.

If Ed were to go to Fleck, he’d be forced to admit he was down here without permission, he had broken into the records room without permission. He’d get in so much trouble and Mustang probably wouldn’t be able to bail him out of this one.

He bit his lip and glanced around the room. He didn’t know exactly what Morgan was doing down here. And he wasn’t even supposed to be down here. Maybe, instead of jumping to conclusions and getting a bunch of people involved, maybe he’d try and gather intel first. He’d keep an eye on him and if he pulled some suspicious shit like this again, then he’d go tell Hughes and Fleck. Sure, Mustang told him not to go looking for trouble, but this wasn’t looking for trouble! He was fully intent on telling Hughes as soon as he knew for sure Morgan was up to something.

Yeah, that sounded like a good plan. He stayed for a few more minutes, just to make sure Morgan was up the stairs and gone, before grabbing his coat and slipping back out.

“I’m definitely having Al draw arrays on my hands tonight,” he muttered as the wall formed back into place.

“There.” He scrubbed away the chalk. “It’s like I was never even here.”

It took him about fifteen minutes to get to the library. By that point, it was already after nine, and the hunger he had felt had grown into a gnawing pain. It felt like his stomach was eating itself. And he was so, so tried. He briefly debated about getting dinner but decided against it. It was so late and Al was going to start getting worried.

“Brother,” Al said when Ed finally made his way to a private study room. “I was just going to go look for you. What happened? Why are you so late?”

He almost told Al about what he had seen with Morgan but decided against it. Al was being more overprotective than usual and would likely want to go tell Mustang or Hughes right away that Ed had seen something. He didn’t need that right now.

“Fleck lost track of time and by the time we got packed up and I got up here, it was already after nine.” He felt bad about only giving Al a half-truth.

“Are you sure?”

Damn, he hated that Al could read him like a book. “Yeah? What do you mean?”

“You seem anxious about something. Are you sure you’re okay?”

He waved him away. “Yeah, I’m fine, Al. I’m kind of stiff and sore from sitting for so long. And more people were whispering about me and shit. I’m just… frustrated. You know? I hate people looking at me like I can’t do shit.”

Al was quiet for a few moments. “Okay, brother. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

Al reached behind him and started digging around. “I have something for you, though.”

“Oh?”

“Ms. Gou stopped by a few minutes ago with food since I hadn’t left the library all day. She thought I might be hungry.”

Ed’s eyes lit up when he saw the sandwich and juice Al dug out from behind him. “That’s awesome! I was going to go get something to eat, but I knew you were going to start getting worried.” He took the sandwich and flopped down on the ground, practically inhaling it.

“I’ll go get you something after you finished that. You and I both know that’s not going to be enough.”

“Thanks, Al!” He said, polishing off the sandwich. He was right. It barely made a dent in his hunger.

“How was it? Did you meet any interesting people?”

“Super boring. I’m going to have to figure out a way to get Colonel Bastard back for this.”

“Brother,” he sighed, “it was either this or medical leave. At least this way you still get paid and I still have access to the library.”

He glared at him. He hated when Al was logical.

“Besides, you got to meet new people. Are they nice?”

“Hmm? I guess. You might like Lieutenant Bosco. She’s pretty nice and she studies alchemy. Don’t know a lot about Harrison. Morgan’s an asshole, though.” And a possible bad person. He didn’t mention this to Al. If Al found out he snuck back into the records room, he’d be furious, tattle to Mustang, and then Ed really would be stuck on medical leave.

“I’m sure he’s not that bad, brother. Besides, you can be difficult to work with at first.”

Ed glared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means, brother.”

“I most certainly do not!”

Al gave him a look.

Ed deflated slightly. “Hey, Al, can you draw some circles on my hands?” he asked.

“Why?”

“Just in case I need to do some quick alchemy.”

“You know you’re not supposed to. The colonel made it very clear that you’re only allowed to go to the records room and here.”

“I know, I know…” He hesitated, trying to figure out a way to convince Al without admitting to what was going on.

“It’s just… you know we attract trouble. There are constantly people trying to hurt us or hurt others and we get caught in the crossfire. And today, the stairs, they took so long to get up and down. I can’t run like this. I can’t fight like this. Scar is still running around and you know he wants to blow my brains out. I just… I feel vulnerable like this. When we were leaving, Fleck was behind me on the stairs and I kept thing about how easy it would be for him to stab me in the back. How easy it would be for any of them to stab me in the back.”

Al nodded. “Alright, brother. I’ll draw some circles for you. But you have to promise me you’ll only use them for emergencies.”

Ed smiled at him and knocked on his armor. “I promise.”

Al stood up. “I’m going to go get you some more food. Are you feeling like anything particular?”

“Nah, just get me whatever is still open. Thanks, Al, you’re the best.”

Al beamed at this and left the room. Once he was gone, Ed deflated and picked up a book. He hated lying to Al. He hated that he couldn’t trust Morgan. He hated that Fleck still seemed insistent on treating him like he was glass. He hated this assignment. He hated feeling useless and vulnerable. He hated how tired and drained he felt. And this was only the first day. He couldn’t imagine dealing with this shit for the rest of the month. Hopefully, though, Morgan was just a one-time thing. Ed wouldn’t find him breaking into the records room and he wouldn’t do any more suspicious shit. One day down. Twenty-seven more to go.

Chapter Text

It was getting towards the end of the day on Friday. Ed had gotten into the habit of announcing when they had an hour left, thirty minutes left, five minutes left, and when it was time to leave. At first, he worried Fleck would get upset when he kept calling out the times. He worried Fleck would get angry that he was keeping track of time so well and cutting them off when they could surely work a few more hours. However, each night, after he had locked up and followed Ed up the stairs, he always thanked him with a smile and a pat on the back.

Bosco and Harrison also seemed ecstatic about Ed’s new job. Harrison went as far as to say that Ed was his new favorite person on the team, leading Bosco to have a playful argument with him on the matter. Though, Ed could tell she was also very happy he was here.

Over the week, everyone, even Morgan, had warmed up to him. Ed warmed up to them as well. Harrison liked telling outrageous stories of some of the hijinks he got up to on his days off.

” I’m serious, Elric. There were ten Drachmans, roughly eight feet tall, all with knives the size of my arm! I had to take them down if I wanted to save the Xingese princess!”

“If you saved the Xingese princess, then why aren’t you currently living a life of luxury in the palace?”

Harrison shook his head sadly. “Alas, it was not meant to be. I’m a rugged man whose loyalty to my country is too great. Besides, her parents would never approve. It was a forbidden romance for the ages.”

While Harrison was fun to talk to because of his tall tales, Bosco was fun to talk to because of her love of alchemy. Seriously, Ed didn’t understand why she never tried to take the State Alchemist exam.

“I think it’s because I love alchemy, but I love it in a way that I don’t want to do it for a job. Does that make sense?”

“I guess so.” He shrugged and handed her a thick stack of Unclassified D files.

“Besides, I like my job with Colonel Fleck. I enjoy the fact that my alchemy is something I do for fun. I have a sort of freedom with it I don’t think I’d get if I had to submit military reports and whatnot. Hey, speaking of which, did you see Uhlmann’s latest theory on cloth transmutation? He’s doing a lot of really interesting work in the field of clothing alchemy.”

Even Morgan seemed to be warming up to him. Even if he still seemed to glare at Ed every time he saw him and refused to speak to him any more than necessary. Though, that could be because Ed was watching his every move trying to figure out if he was a spy or not.

Ed handed Morgan a stack of Unclassified G’s. Morgan flicked through them, eyes scanning over the documents. Ed watched him. Watched to see if there was any flash of recognition or glee. Hell, or even a flash of disappointment. Anything to signal that Morgan was looking for something. The man’s face remained impassive as he shoved the files into their spot and held out his hand for the next stack. Seriously, if this man was wearing a mask, he could give Mustang a run for his money.

Yes, Ed was starting to get along with all the members of the team. He glanced towards Fleck. They were working on the classified C’s together while the rest of the Lieutenants finished up the Unclassified C’s. Despite Fleck's warning that Harrison and Morgan got into fights all the time, they hadn’t so much as said a word to one another today. Maybe that was all in the past? Or maybe Morgan was too busy being a spy for someone and didn’t want to waste his energy fighting and getting into trouble.

He glanced at Fleck again. Maybe he should just tell him what he had seen that first night he was here? Yes, he’d get in trouble for sneaking back it, but surely the potential for catching a spy was greater than whatever trouble he’d get into!

Or maybe he should call Mustang and see what he suggested. Mustang would know Ed wasn’t purposefully trying to find anything. And, if Mustang was on his side, Fleck might be more willing to believe him.

But, he still didn’t know if Morgan was even a spy! He hadn’t taken anything as far as Ed was aware. The lock hadn’t been broken or alchemized in any way. Yes, he was down in the basement when he shouldn’t have been, but so was Ed!

“Something on your mind, son?” Fleck asked.

Ed wrinkled his nose. He hated when the man called him that. But, to be professional and keep his head down, he didn’t say anything about it.

“I’m just wondering how secure all of this is? I mean, we have thousands of unclassified documents just sitting out in the open. Anyone could come in here and take a look.”

Fleck laughed. “You really are preoccupied with security, aren’t you? Yes, I suppose you’re right. Anyone could come down here and take a look at them. However, it is a risk the Fuhrer is willing to take. I know it looks unorganized now, but you couldn’t imagine the state this room was in even a few months ago. Most of the files had water or rodent damage. Several of them were missing sheets that had been shoved under bookshelves by accident. The unclassified documents were mixed with the classified and no one could ever find anything.”

That didn’t answer Ed’s question.

“Look, son,” Fleck continued, “I know you’re young and you’re probably optimistic. I love that about you. However, sometimes, we need to take risks if we are to get things done. Leaving the records in their former state was more of a risk than now. If someone did break in and steal a classified file, we likely would never find out because it was so disorganized. Trust me. I know the risks we are taking and I am willing to put my neck out on the line if it means in the future we’ll have a better system.”

Ed nodded and turned back towards his pile, working to organize it. He occasionally caught glimpses of files that he wanted to look into more. There were a few that Mustang and Hughes had worked on together. When he came back at night to see if Morgan was sneaking around, he almost read through them. He wanted to know what Mustang had done that required the file to be classified. He almost read through them yesterday. Only, he stopped himself after finding the box and putting it on the floor (quite a feat considering his current number of limbs). There was no reason for him to look through those files. If they had any information on the Philosopher’s stone, Mustang would have told him. Which meant that Ed didn’t need to be looking at them. He could always just ask the bastard what he did that needed to be classified and leave it at that.

“Oh, holy timekeeper!” Harrison called out, pulling Ed from his thoughts. “What is the time, greatest major in the world?”

“Quit being dramatic,” Bosco laughed.

Ed rolled his eyes and pulled out his pocket watch. “A quarter to six.”

“Then, I suppose we should start packing up,” Fleck said. He patted Ed on the back. “Don’t worry about the files, boy. No matter what we do, there will always be the possibility of a breach.”

That did not make Ed feel any better. It left him feeling stunned, unsure of what just happened. Fleck left him at the table and went out to the main portion of the room. Ed picked up his coat and followed after him.

“Hey, are you coming out with us tonight?” Bosco asked as she gathered up her things.

“Oh, yeah. You promised to take us out, boss,” Harrison said. “Since you were such a slave driver on Monday.”

“Seriously, you are the most dramatic person I know.” Bosco shook her head.

“I forgot what the sun looked like that day.” Harrison sighed and put his hand to his forehead. “I feared I’d never see a tree again.”

Fleck laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I suppose I did agree to take you all out. I forgot about it.”

“More like you were hoping we’d forget about it.” Harrison grinned.

“Same as last time, right Colonel?” Bosco asked brightly.”

“Last time?” Ed looked over to Morgan. Since he’d been working in the back with Fleck, he hadn’t gotten a chance to observe him all day today.

His eyes narrowed as he watched Morgan shove some papers into a bag. Were they new? Did he come in with them? Were they from the Records Room? He was doing it out in the open, in front of everyone. It’d be pretty ballsy if they were stolen. However, Ed knew from experience that sometimes people weren’t that observant. Especially if they were tired and talking about food.

“Yeah, this would be—what? The third time this month you’ve had to buy us all dinner because you’ve kept us late?”

“I know, I know. Letting Major Elric keep us on a strict schedule isn’t just for you guys. It’s to protect my pocketbook as well. You’ll eat me out of house and home if I had to pay for dinner anymore.”

“You’re joining us, right Morgan?” Bosco asked.

“Can’t.” He threw his bag over his shoulder and stalked out the door. The rest of them followed.

Ed was more balanced on his prosthetic than he had been a week ago, so he was able to keep up with Bosco and Harrison relatively well to hear the conversation. And this was a conversation he needed to hear. Not that he thought Morgan would come right out and say he was a freaking spy. But, he might let something slip. Something that Ed could take to Mustang and Fleck to let them know that they had a bad guy in their midst.

“Why not?” Harrison asked.

“I got shit to do.”

Bosco deflated slightly. “No need to be so snippy. Seriously, you’re the only guy I know who says no to free food.”

“Good food too!”

Ed’s heart rate increased slightly as his mind whirled through the possibilities. If Morgan was breaking into the Records Room, then this would be the perfect opportunity to do it. Bosco, Fleck, and Harrison would all be eating dinner. They’d likely be far from Central Command and gone for several hours. This would give Morgan plenty of time to get back to the room without worrying someone would find him. Maybe he had seen Ed that first night and was now trying to only come back when he knew no one would be there?

“Maybe I should sit this one out too,” Ed said. Shit, he should not have said that out loud when Morgan was still within earshot!

Now, if Morgan knew that Ed might be free to stake out the Records Room, he might not come back tonight. Then, Ed would have no proof and he’d look like a paranoid idiot to Mustang and Fleck!

“Nope, not going to happen,” Bosco said, throwing an arm around his shoulder.

The sudden weight shift caused him to stumble. As much as he liked talking to Bosco and Harrison, they did have an annoying habit of touching him. They never asked if they could and seemed to just assume it was okay. It wasn’t okay. Ed didn’t like it when people touched him without his permission. And he especially didn’t like when they touched his right shoulder. Only Al, Winry, Mustang, and the rest of the team were allowed to touch him. And even then it took them forever to get to the point where they could. And they were always very careful not to push.

He said nothing and let Bosco continue to lead him through the halls, trying to ignore the uncomfortable warm weight of her body on his right side and the fact that she was still throwing off his balance. He didn’t want to make a fuss over anything. It was just an arm around his shoulders. No need to bite her head off. Sure, it made him uncomfortable and he rather she didn’t. But it wasn’t that big of a deal. He could handle it. She didn’t mean anything by it. If he got used to Team Mustang touching him, then he could get used to her.

This feels different from Havoc or Breda or Hawkeye.

“Come on, kid,” Harrison said, grinning at him, “are you going to turn down free food? I don’t think we can be friends if you turn down a deal like this.”

He glanced over at Morgan, who still looked like he wanted to punch something. Now that they were out of the room and in the main area of Central Command, he had lit up a cigarette. Ed was trapped. There was no way he could get out of going to dinner without admitting what he knew about Morgan. And, Morgan was right here. He had his service weapon on him. If Ed said, out loud, that he was a potential spy, he could pull it and kill Bosco and Harrison before they could even comprehend what was going on. And there was no way Ed would be able to fight back. Yes, Al was dutifully drawing transmutation circles on his hand every morning, but because his prosthetic leg didn’t bend it would be hard for him to get to the ground fast enough to stop a fucking bullet.

He bit his lip. “I guess not?”

Fleck said sometimes they had to take risks when it came to security. He still didn’t know what Morgan was up to and he couldn’t risk discussing it with anyone while the man was still here. Yes, he might go down to the Records Room tonight and paw through the files. Ed could almost guarantee that was what he was going to do, but it was worth the risk. Besides, Ed could always figure out what he took after the fact.

“That’s the spirit!” Fleck grinned at him. A big, toothy grin. “I know you’re still probably overwhelmed by all the changes going on, but having dinner with one’s comrades is a great way to get to know them. Oh, I want to know if you read that book I sent you and what you thought about it.”

Ed winced and let Bosco practically drag him out of Central Comment.

He loved to read and research, more than the average person. However, reading a book on the history of the accordion file was quite possibly the most useless and boring thing he could think of. He was hoping to call Falman tomorrow and see if he read it and if he could give Ed the highlights. If there were such things as highlights in a book about organizational office supply history. He knew the guy had his book club on Saturdays, but he should be able to catch him if he called early enough in the morning. It’d also be nice to talk to someone he knew.

“Not yet. I was planning on finishing it this weekend.”

“Great! We can talk about it on Monday and when we’re working on the E’s!” Fleck beamed.

He struggled not to groan.

“Is it the book on the accordion file?” Bosco asked.

He nodded.

“I’ll bring a cheat sheet to your dorm on Saturday, kid.”

“Thanks, Bosco.”

He never thought he’d admit it, but he missed Team Mustang. They had a chipper, but not too chipper outlook on life and they were so diverse in their personalities. Any one of them could be overwhelming if they wanted to be, but they were good at keeping it in check and in line. He missed Breda’s sarcasm and the way he’d subtly poke fun at Mustang. He missed Havoc’s pranks and the older brother energy he seemed to exude as he would try and get Ed to join him in making trouble. He missed Fuery’s soft-spoken, almost hyper-focused interest in things. He missed Falman’s stoic nature as he spouted out random facts that Ed didn’t even know where he got them from. He missed Hawkeye’s threats of gun violence should they screw off. And, as much as he hated to admit it, he missed Mustang. He missed that he didn’t touch Ed in a way that made him uncomfortable. He missed the fact that he treated him like he was capable rather than breakable. He missed that when things got too much when the whispers or his mind got to be too much, he would be there to pull him back to Earth and tether him there. He missed the office. He missed his team. He missed not having to watch everything he said or did. He missed that he couldn’t talk openly or hell, even just ask questions. He missed it all.

Only three more weeks. He only had to put up with this for three more weeks and then he and Al would be back home or searching for the stone. He’d have his automail back and no one would look at him with pity in their eyes. He could share his worries with the team and trust that none of them were planning something.

“I’ll see you Monday at eight in the morning, sir,” Morgan said, saluting and then walking off towards Central’s dorms.

Now that he was gone, Ed could speak more freely. He swallowed. “How come you guys aren’t trying to force him to go?” His eyes followed Morgan to see if he’d make a weird turn or do something that indicated he was up to no good. Nope. He went straight to the dorms.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, major,” Fleck said. He sounded a little upset at this.

Ed managed to finally shrug off Bosco’s arm. He didn’t want to come. But he didn’t want to be suspicious and unprofessional either. And part of being professional was doing what his colleagues wanted to do.

“No, I want to come. Harrison’s right, I’d be an idiot to turn down free food. And, the mess hall isn’t the best when it comes to food anyway.”

“Damn straight!” Harrison said.

“I’m just surprised you didn’t put up much of a fight when he said he wasn’t coming.”

“We’ve been dealing with Morgan’s sour moods since he showed up nearly three months ago. Trust us, kid, we’re used to this.” Harrison shrugged.

Ed may not have been able to stake out the library and watch for any suspicious activity, but that didn’t mean this night had to be a total waste. The others had been around Morgan for months now. If he had done anything suspicious, they’d likely know.

“I thought he volunteered. Why is he so angry if he wanted to do this?” Ed tried to sound as nonchalant and curious as possible. In an attempt to put the others at ease and make them more likely to answer his questions.

“He did. But… there are a lot of rumors,” Bosco said, winking at him.

This piqued Ed’s interest. “Rumors?”

Granny always said not to trust rumors. That they were just a bunch of lies made up by people who had nothing better to do than to sit around and gossip. Ed thought that rumors weren’t always bad. Yes, they were often false, but there was almost always a little sliver of truth to them. People gossiped to spread information. If there was information on Morgan, what better way to spread it than through a rumor.

“Bosco, don’t go turning the kid against his colleagues.” Harrison turned to Ed. “Don’t listen to a word she says. The military is one big rumor mill. There are rumors about everyone. Even your superior.”

This also piqued Ed’s interest. “Really, like what? Is it that he sleeps around a lot? Because I’ve already heard that one.” Sure, he was supposed to be gathering information on Morgan, but if he asked about Mustang, that was going to make him look less suspicious.

Bosco turned as red as her hair and Harrison threw back his head, howling with laughter.

“What—where—” she sputtered. “You are way too young to know about that kind of thing!”

“It’s the military,” Ed said. “I’ve heard way too much just sitting at a table in the mess hall. Besides, he doesn’t exactly do a whole lot to dissuade those rumors. Every time I go back to the office he’s talking about a date he just went on while Havoc cries in the back because chances are he wanted to go on a date with the woman. It’s a mess.”

“That’s great!” Harrison said, wiping away tears in his eyes. “That’s fantastic. You’re amazing, Elric.” He let out a few more laughs before finally calming down. “But, that wasn’t the rumor I was talking about. Everyone knows he’s a man-whore.”

“Harrison!”

“What? That’s the correct terminology. Besides, it’s probably nothing worse than the kid’s heard before.”

Actually, it was worse than what Ed heard before. Talking about Mustang like this was… well it was making him uncomfortable. He knew the rumors around Mustang and his… propensity to date many women. However, hearing Harrison talk about it like that was kind of pissing him off. He had to admit.

“If it’s not that rumor, then what is it?” he said, trying to sound as cheerful and curious as possible. After all, he was the one who decided to prod Harrison into giving him more information.

“Eh,” Harrison shrugged, “mostly stuff that everyone who’s a colonel gets. Mainly that he’s a spy for Xing.”

Ed furrowed his brow. “Why would anyone think he’s a spy for Xing?”

“He’s Xingese, ain’t he?”

“I thought he was born in Amestris. I don’t even think he can speak Xingese.” Somehow, this rumor was even worse to hear about. If people thought Mustang was a spy for another country, that would put him in danger. What if they arrested him and executed him without a trial? Shit, did Ed need to warn Mustang that people thought he was a spy? Screw Morgan, he couldn’t let Mustang get tortured for something he was not!

“Don’t listen to him,” Bosco said. He didn’t know if she noticed his growing panic or not. But she did sound like she was trying to assuage his fears. “Everyone has rumors that they’re a spy for some other country. That’s one of the rumors for Morgan. People think he’s a Drachman spy.”

Ed couldn’t help but gasp at this, his heart pounding in his chest. So, someone else thought Morgan was suspicious. Or, could he discount it because apparently, Mustang was working for the Xingese military? Or could he not discount it because Morgan was being super sketchy and doing weird things like sneaking back in after-hours? Or, could he discount it because despite going back down to the basement every night after everyone had left for work, he hadn’t caught Morgan again?

“Don’t worry, he’s probably not a Drachman spy,” Bosco hurried to explain upon seeing the obvious panic on his face. “It’s just a rumor. People think that I’m a spy for someone. Usually Cretan but it changes depending on who’s telling the story. Everyone’s been accused of espionage at least once. I think the current theory for Colonel Fleck is that he’s selling information to the Aergonians.”

Harrison scoffed at that. “Seriously, the Aergonians? That’s like, the worst country to sell information to. If I was gonna be a spy, I’d go for Creta. They pay very well.”

“Careful,” Bosco rolled her eyes. “Someone might hear you and take you seriously. The last thing I need to worry about getting arrested because you’re making a pros and cons list on which country would be the best country to spy for.”

“I’m just saying—”

“How do you know for sure, though?” Ed asked, mind still racing. These rumors couldn’t have come from anywhere. There had to be something that made people think Morgan was a spy. People probably thought Mustang was a spy because they were racist pieces of shit. But Morgan was Amestrian. He didn’t speak with an accent and probably grew up here. Maybe? Ed wasn’t sure. Maybe as a spy, he would have received training so that he didn’t speak with an accent.

But… he was in the records room of Central. There had to be an employee file on Morgan somewhere in there that could shed some more light on him. Or if he was a spy, would they have forged it well enough for him not to be able to tell?

“I guess I don’t know,” Bosco shrugged. “I’m only on the administrative side of things. But I wouldn’t stress too much. There are people whose literal job is to know who may or may not be a spy. I know you know Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, right?”

Ed nodded.

“That’s something he does. Look into potential spies to see if it has any weight or not. You don’t have to worry. Morgan’s passed enough background checks to not be a spy.”

Ed nodded but wasn’t convinced. Things slipped through the cracks all the time. Just look at how easy it was for him and Al to be in the military despite committing a taboo that would have seen Ed executed and Al shipped off to be a lab rat!

“Bosco quit scaring the kid,” Harrison elbowed her. “The reason why he’s here is that he pissed off Colonel Olson and had to get the hell out of dodge before he got himself court-martialed.”

“What does Colonel Olson do again?” Ed asked.

“She does the money side of things. Military expense reports, pay salaries, monitors that obscene amount of money you state alchemists get. Hey, boss,” Harrison was done with the conversation and turned back to Fleck to suggest a restaurant.

Ed wasn’t listening though. His mind was racing. There was something off about this whole thing. He had a feeling in his gut. And his gut feelings were rarely wrong. Morgan was up to something. First, he pissed off Olson, then he ends up in Central’s Records room right next to highly classified records that are out in the open because of the reorganization effort. He worked in the accounting side of the military beforehand. That had to have access to all sorts of classified information. If he was a spy for the Drachmans, he could easily see how much money the military was spending on weapons, how many State alchemists were on their payroll, where all the major generals were at due to expenses, and more. True, it wasn’t exactly glamorous spy work, like in the books where the main character would swagger into a bar in a nice suit and shoot cool guns during high-speed car chases. But if there was one thing Ed learned during his time in the military, it was that things were rarely exciting. The amount of paperwork and bureaucracy that went into running a country was so boring. And Morgan now had access to two potential goldmines of information.

He'd have to keep an eye on him. He’d have to see if he was up to something. Maybe he should start staying in the records room later. Al didn’t need to know. He could just say Fleck was forcing him to stay later. Ed couldn’t tell Al because Al would then tell Colonel Bastard who would then get angry for sticking his nose in yet another potential conspiracy. But it wasn’t Ed’s fault. He was just collecting information so he could give the pieces to Hughes. That would be okay. Right?

Chapter Text

Ed sighed as he sat hunched in the back corner of the records room. It was now his third week here and he had yet to catch Morgan in the act. Every night, after making sure everyone else was out of the building or occupied with something else (Fleck seemed to have a lot of meeting with General Grieves late at night) he would sneak back down, smash himself behind a towering pile of papers, and wait for a few hours to see if Morgan would come back.

He never did.

And, as far as Ed could tell, nothing had ever been taken either. No files were shifted around. No boxes were missing. No paper had disappeared.

Maybe that first night was a fluke. Maybe Morgan had forgotten his cigarettes or his lighter and came back down to come to get them. He never could find any evidence that the door had been tampered with or the lock had been broken into. And, there was also no evidence that alchemy had been performed. Which meant that Morgan had gotten a key from somewhere. Fleck did make a big deal out of making sure he was the last one out. But, to be fair, that was the first day they had met. He likely didn’t trust Ed yet. He had been working with Morgan for months now and likely knew if he would poke around or not.

As for Morgan’s bad attitude, well, a lot of people had bad attitudes. It wasn’t like he was a bucket of sunshine around people. Especially people that he didn’t know well. Morgan might be the same way. He hadn’t exactly snapped at Ed since and not everyone needed to be bright and cheery like Bosco or fun like Harrison.

Morgan was just someone with a bad attitude who had the unfortunate luck of forgetting his cigarettes the first day Ed was here. Come to think of it, if Ed hadn’t caught him in the room, would he have even suspected Morgan of being a spy?

No. No, he would not.

If he was a spy for the Drachmans, he sure as hell wasn’t being a very good one. Nearly a month since Ed had been here and he hadn’t once caught him gathering intel. He knew spy work wasn’t as glamorous as the books made it out to be, but this was some next-level boring ass shit that made reorganizing the records room look like an exciting adventure for the ages.

As Ed sat there in the dark room with his back aching and his head hurting, he started to feel worse and worse about what he was doing. This whole thing was a waste of time and succeeded in nothing but less sleep and more stress. He was exhausted from all this sneaking around. He had to stay late every night and was constantly terrified that he’d either miss Morgan or run into him on the way back up the stairs. This meant he often spent hours crouched in the basement, debating with himself whether or not it was a good time to leave.

And then, he had to come to work early the next day and pretend as if everything with fine. And that was after he lied to Al about where he was at and what he was doing! He didn’t want his brother to know because he was afraid of being called paranoid and weak. However, he suspected Al knew something was up. It was only a matter of time before he found out.

A few times, in his exhausted and stressed-out state, he almost blurted his suspicions to Fleck while reorganizing the classified files. Today was one such day. They were finishing up the G’s. Fleck was just sitting there humming to himself. He could hear Bosco and Harrison talking about what Bosco did over the weekend. It would have been so easy to just tell Fleck what he was worried about. More than once he had asked if everything was okay.

But, he didn’t. He didn’t know how he could tell Fleck why he was suspicious in the first place without admitting that he had been breaking into the room every day for the past three weeks. Fleck might think he was the one who was up to something.

He sighed against and twisted his torso in a pathetic attempt to stretch out his aching back.

“I should go,” he mumbled, as the lower muscles in his back seized. Even though he wasn’t hauling around hunks of metal, his muscles were still sore, having to work overtime to keep his balance and move in a different way to walk and get around the world.

He couldn’t wait for this assignment to be over. He couldn’t wait to be back on the road, looking for the philosopher’s stone with Al with an arm and a leg. He couldn’t wait until worrying about Morgan wasn’t his problem. He couldn’t wait until things could go back to normal.

Right. He was going to go now. He was going to go back to the library and hang out with Al for a few hours before going to bed. And then tomorrow, he wasn’t going to spend several hours hunkered down in the basement waiting for a guy who would never come. He was going to power through the last week of his assignment and ignore Morgan as best as he could.

He steadied himself to get up off the floor. Just as he was about to stand and get out of here, he heard it. It was the sound of a key being put into the door. He was pretty sure his heart stopped at that moment and he remained frozen as the lock clicked open. That click brought him back to reality and he quickly clamped a hand over his mouth and shuffled father back into the shadows. From his vantage point, he could see out into the room, but, thanks to the various papers and boxes scattered about, it was very difficult to see him.

His heart was pounding. His entire body was shaking. His stomach was doing flips.

Was it Fleck coming back down to get something? Or was it Morgan coming back down to steal something?

Ed had done a sweep of the room earlier. There were no forgotten cigarettes or lighters for Morgan to come back down and get. Which meant if he was down here, it was for something else.

The door swung open and someone stepped into the room.

Ed held his breath, eyes straining to make out the shape. Finally, he came into view.

I knew it! He thought as Morgan walked right past him.

He couldn’t believe his hunch had been right. Then again, his hunches were rarely ever wrong. It just took a little while for this one to be right.

He watched as Morgan made his way to the back, right where the classified documents were being kept. He was afraid to even blink just in case the traitor did something. Should he move? Should he stay put?

He could exactly fight like this even with the circles Al drew on his hands this morning. He could attempt to trap Morgan in some concrete and run to get Hughes or something, but if he was off, Morgan might be able to slip away. He likely had his service weapon on him. He wasn’t sure how good of a shot Morgan was, but he didn’t have to be a good shot. He just had to be a somewhat decent one. So, Ed should stay put.

But, he was digging around the classified files specifically. If he was a spy looking for Amestris’ weak point, he’d likely find it there. Which meant Ed should stop him before he could get away.

But, he wasn’t exactly capable like this.

His mind kept going back and forth, back and forth with the argument, never able to finally land on a decision.

However, a decision was made for him when Morgan slammed the file cabinet shut and dashed out of there. The sudden noise and movement caused Ed to freeze again, like a wild animal.

He stayed frozen for several more minutes after Morgan had left. After the door had shut and the lock had been turned. He was afraid Morgan would come back in and find him. However, after several more minutes, he decided Morgan had gotten what he came for and inched out of his hiding spot and onto his feet. He felt unsteady, shaky, as he stumbled to the back.

He spotted the cabinet Morgan had broken into. It was subtle. If Ed hadn’t been looking for it, he doubts he would have spotted it. A slight scuff mark where the keyhole was. He could see the metal had been slightly bent in his hurry to get it open.

It was the cabinet containing all of the G’s. Come to think of it, Ed remembered Morgan spending some time flipping through the unclassified G’s as well a few weeks ago.

He swallowed as he drew a transmutation circle on the metal and opened it up, sliding out the files. He had worked on these files today. He had spent hours organizing and double-checking to make sure they were all correct. And there, towards the very end of it, was a blank spot. Again, if anyone else had opened up the cabinet, they likely wouldn’t have noticed it. The cabinet itself was still stuffed full of documents. But Ed knew because he had filed those files.

It was several case files that were from General Grieves. All of the files relating to him had been removed.

“I have to tell someone about this,” he said. He could no longer pretend like he had everything under control. He could no longer pretend like he was just sitting and gathering intel. He needed help. Actual help. From someone he trusted.

He spun around and ran as fast as he could out the door and up the stairs. He didn’t care if he got in trouble. He didn’t care if Mustang was mad at him for disobeying his orders. He didn’t care if he looked suspicious. They had to stop Morgan before he ended up hurting people. Who knew what was in those files and who he was giving them to!

His entire body was on autopilot as he dashed through the empty halls of Central Command. He didn’t even comprehend where he was going until he ended up at Lieutenant Colonel Hughes’ office.

“Please be there. Please be there.” Never before had he felt more like a helpless child, like someone who needed other people to keep him safe. He hated the feeling. He hated being so reliant on others.

He knocked on the door, trying to keep it soft enough so as not to draw the attention of anyone else who might still be in the office.

“Lieutenant Colonel, are you there?” he asked. His voice came out broken, desperate, almost pleading.

He knocked again, this time louder. It occurred to him, then, that Hughes might not even be in his office. It was late at night. He had a wife and kid at home. He likely left hours ago.

He bit his lip, panic starting to set in once more. Should he try to get to Hughes’ apartment or should he just throw in the towel and call Mustang. He still had his number, folded and stuffed into his pocket. It was late out. He likely wouldn’t be able to find a taxi at this time of night. And walking to Hughes’ apartment would take too much time.

Then, the door opened.

Ed breathed a sigh of relief to see Hughes standing in front of him. His uniform was slightly rumpled and the man himself looked as if he had just woken up.

“Edward?” He yawned and scratched the back of his head. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What are you still doing here?”

Ed opened his mouth, ready to spill everything. Somewhere in the building, a door slammed. He jumped and whipped around as if Morgan was the one who had slammed it. As if Morgan was preparing to shoot him right here, right now to keep him from telling Hughes what had happened.

Hughes noticed this, of course. The speed at which he went from half-asleep to alert and wideawake was honestly a little impressive. Ed noticed a throwing knife in his hand that hadn’t been there before and his eyes narrowed as he looked around.

“Come inside, kid,” he said cheerfully. He put a hand on Ed’s back and led him through the door. “I don’t mind staying a few extra minutes to help out my favorite alchemist.”

He said this so brightly, so happily, it was easy to believe that nothing was wrong. They were just two friends who had stopped for a chat. Ed could see past that, though. Hughes was a lot like Mustang in that way. The only difference was he had knives instead of gloves. Still, there was a tension in his entire body that said he was ready to attack anything that got in his way. It made Ed feel better, more secure, safer.

“I thought Mustang was your favorite alchemist,” he said, stepping through the door. He was not good at constructing that sort of façade. His voice shook too much and he couldn’t help but look behind him, trying to see if Morgan was sneaking up behind him.

Hughes laughed and closed the door behind him. “Not today, kid. I called him earlier to tell him about my darling little Elicia and he slammed the phone down on me. Can you imagine?”

He led him to his inner office. “Alright, kid, we’re alone and no one’s listening in. What’s up?”

Ed nodded. “Don’t be mad,” he said, now realizing how much trouble he was going to be in when Mustang found out about this.

Yes, he was prepared to get in trouble for this, but Mustang wouldn’t just be mad, he’d be furious. There was no telling how much he’d punish Ed for going against his orders and actively seeking out a conspiracy. And Mustang wasn’t the only one he’d have to deal with. When Fleck realized Ed had been sneaking down to the basement every night for three weeks… Ed shuddered to think how that conversation would go.

Hughes’ expression softened. “Edward, I’d rather you tell me what’s going on so I can help you. If you hide it, thinking me or Roy is going to be mad, it’s going to be worse. I want to help you. No matter what you did or what sort of trouble you got yourself into, it’s more important to me, and Roy, that you trust us enough to help you.

Ed nodded. His body wouldn’t stop shaking and he felt like he was going to throw up.

“Here, sit down, catch your breath. Seriously, kid, you don’t look so hot.” He all but shoved Ed into an uncomfortable chair in front of the desk. “Take a couple of deep breaths.”

Ed struggled to comply but did force himself to breathe slower.

“That’s it. Now, what happened? Don’t leave anything out.”

“Okay, so, the first night I was here, I forgot my coat down in the records room. I went back to get it and I know I shouldn’t have broken in there but it was cold and I still wasn’t used to my prosthetics which meant it was going to take me forever to get back to the library and I used alchemy to seal the room back up so no one else could get in and I was just getting my coat, I swear, but while I was down there, I saw Lieutenant Morgan in the records room as well and I know he wasn’t supposed to be there because Colonel Fleck told me no one was allowed in there by themselves because of all the classified records, except for maybe Mustang or something? That was a little unclear, anyways, I hid and he didn’t see me but I didn’t know if he took anything or if he was just down there to get his lighter or something but he was acting suspicious and no one else likes him so I decided to keep going back to catch him in the act, and I know I shouldn’t have but I did and tonight I caught him and I saw that he took a bunch of files from the classified section that was all about General Grieves and a few weeks ago he was looking through some unclassified G files so I think he was also looking for some stuff on General Grieves and I think he might be a spy for Drachma or something because he worked for Colonel Olson in accounting which doesn’t sound like that much like a spy thing, but if you think about it, that’s the perfect place to gather intel and I didn’t confront him or anything so I don’t think he saw me but he still stole files from the room that was classified and I think he might go back to get some more and—”

“Woah, okay, okay, breathe, Ed,” Hughes said, coming to his side and putting a hand on his back.

Ed did as he was told, taking gasping breathes of air. He had no idea how much he relied on his usual automail to comfort him. He never thought about how much protection they afforded him; how much freedom he had. If this were any other situation, he would have been happy to smack Morgan into next week with a hunk of metal. But, take away his limbs, and he was a weak, pathetic, cowardly little kid who had gone running to an adult crying because he saw one guy in a room at night. He was damn near having a panic attack in Hughes’ office even though nothing had happened!

“There you go. Keep breathing.” Hughes instructed. He was rubbing circles on Ed’s back.

Ed took a few deep, but shuddering inhales.

“Feeling better?”

“Barely,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Sorry.”

Fuck, Hughes must think he was fucking pathetic like this; needing to be comforted like a fucking baby.

“Don’t be.” He said it in such a way that it almost felt like he wasn’t judging Ed. “Up for answering a few more questions, just for clarification?”

Ed nodded, even though he wanted nothing more than to go back to Al and lock himself in the library for the weekend.

“Okay, do you know what was in the files he took? What General Greives was working on?”

He shook his head. “I’m not allowed to read them. I just file them. But I filed them today and there was a whole section dedicated to reports from General Grieves, that’s how I know those were the ones he took. And he took all of them. Unless Fleck has some more stashed away, everything I filed today was gone.”

“And you’re sure he wasn’t getting files that were requested by Fleck?”

Once more, he shook his head. “Fleck won’t even let Bosco, his lieutenant, touch any of the classified files. He made it very clear the first day I was working there that none of the lieutenants were allowed to take the files. He had a key for the door, though. I heard him use it to open and close it. I just don’t know where he would have gotten it from. Fleck won’t even let me hold the keys.”

Hughes sighed. “This is a mess. Well, at least you came here instead of trying to deal with it on your own.”

Ed hunched in on himself, even more, feeling ashamed at everything he had done. Would things have been better if he had gone to Hughes that first night? Would things have been better if he ignored everything that was happening? He felt like he had made all the wrong decisions and he hated it.

“Are you going to go after him? We should handle this quickly before he tells the Drachmans, right?”

“We are not doing anything. Roy would kill me if I had you do anything else. He’s probably already going to kill me for not keeping a better eye on you in the first place.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Ed spat, trying to regain some control over himself.

Hughes decided to ignore that and pressed onwards. “Also, I need to come up with a way not to get you court-martialed. You realize that breaking into the records room was unbelievably stupid and will look incredibly suspicious, right?”

Ed nodded pathetically. “I didn’t know what else to do. I thought I was being paranoid.”

“I know, I know. Listen, instead of saying you broke in, just tell Fleck that you forgot your coat and went back down to grab it, forgetting he locks the door. That’s when you saw Morgan. Okay? None of this breaking for weeks on end.”

He looked up at him, confused. “You want me to lie about this?”

“I want to keep you from a firing squad, kid. I know you weren’t planning anything with this, but other people may not be so forgiving. Alright?”

He nodded.

“Now, let’s see if Fleck is still here. Tell him what you told me and we can go from there, okay?” He smiled at him. It made Ed feel slightly more reassured about the whole situation.

Hughes led him through the winding hallways of Central. Surprisingly, despite the late hour, there were still a lot of people here.

“Do these people ever go home?” Ed grumbled.

“That is the question,” Hughes laughed. It was telling when he didn’t answer.

“Fleck might be in a meeting with General Grieves. They often have meetings after hours,” Ed said.

“Do they? Well, if that’s the case, we can ask to speak to Fleck alone. Grieves will have to be alerted eventually, but I think it’d be best if you talked to Fleck first. No need to overwhelm you.”

Despite Hughes being right that Ed would be overwhelmed if he had to talk to both Grieves and Fleck, he couldn’t help but feel like that was a jab at him.

They stopped in front of a door with Fleck’s name on it. Hughes knocked and waited for a beat before it opened. A bleary-eyed Fleck stared out at them. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like he had a meeting with Grieves tonight.

“Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, Major Elric? What’s going on?”

“Can we talk inside your office?” Hughes asked. “It regards sensitive information.”

Fleck nodded and stepped to the side, beckoning them in. “Of course, of course. Come in.” He shut the door behind them. “I suppose you’re not here to discuss the merits of highlighters when it comes to important documents?”

“I’m afraid not. Major Elric, can you give him your report?”

Ed nodded and repeated everything he had told Hughes to Fleck, with the minor change that he had not been sneaking back into the records room for two weeks straight. He felt better having Hughes with him; less exposed and less weak. He still shivered as Fleck’s eyes never left him. He was studying him; watching him. For what, Ed didn’t know. All he knew was that he felt better having Hughes at his back.

When he was done, Fleck slumped down in his chair and sighed heavily. “I knew that man was too good to be true.”

“You knew?” Ed asked.

“There was something fishy about his appearance from the very beginning. You had a reason for volunteering with the project. Morgan never did. And, we’re getting to the end of the fiscal year. Colonel Olson would have needed him to help with all the expense reports. It seemed strange that he would leave her now when this is Accounting’s busiest time. But I could never catch him in the act and there was never any obvious tampering with the doors. I can’t believe this.”

Ed was shocked at the man’s sudden change in demeanor. Gone was the jovial man who could chat happily for hours about the difference between straight tab folders and right-cut tab folders.

He turned to Hughes. “Lieutenant Colonel, can you draft an inquiry and send it to the Fuhrer? We’re going to need a small internal investigation working on this.”

“Wait, you’re not going to go after him now?” Ed said before he could stop himself. “Do you not believe me?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, son,”

He bristled at being called son. It felt so different from when Hughes or Mustang called him ‘kid’.

“It’s that these things are complicated and we have to be very careful in how we go about solving them.”

“If we make it too obvious that we’re onto him,” Hughes jumped in to explain, “it could spook him or his employers and he might commit suicide so that he doesn’t spill any secrets. We believe you, major, but the colonel is right. We have to be very careful in how we’re handling this.”

Ed opened his mouth to argue, but the slight shake in Hughes’ head told him it would be a bad idea.

“I’ll have to cancel my plans to visit my wife’s parents,” Hughes sighed.

“No, don’t do that,” Fleck said. “Any changes could alert him to the fact that we’re onto him. Do you have anyone you could assign in your absence?”

“Major Armstrong is a good candidate. And my lieutenants are very good at what they do. I’m certain we can have this all sorted out quickly.”

Ed couldn’t believe how nonchalant they were about the whole thing. There was a spy, stealing files that were classified and they were treating this like Morgan had just stolen someone’s lunch!

“Come on, Major,” Hughes said, clapping him on the shoulder, “I’ll take you back to the dorms.”

“I don’t need a chaperone,” Ed said, still frustrated that they didn’t seem to be taking this seriously.

“I know, but I want to say hi to Al. It’s been a while since we’ve gotten together.” And damn if he couldn’t argue against that.

“Thank you, Major Elric,” Fleck said as he walked them to the door. “I don’t know if we ever would have caught him had you not forgotten your coat.”

“Oh, right.”

“Tomorrow, come back to work as normal. It’ll probably be difficult, but as I said, any changes could indicate to Morgan that something is off. We must keep him in a false sense of security until we figure out who he’s working for and what their goals are. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Ed nodded and waved to him as Hughes escorted him out of the building.

“Are you going to tell Mustang about this?” Ed asked sullenly.

Hughes laughed, “Of course, kid. Sorry to say, but he’s going to find out eventually.”

He huffed and trudged forward. “He’s going to be so mad.”

“Probably, but I’ll make sure to spin it in a way that makes him look good.”

“Stupid bastard, always caring about climbing the ladder.” He muttered. He was more frustrated with Hughes and Fleck than anything. Why weren’t they rushing to Morgan’s dorm now? He had to have the files on him or other incriminating evidence!

Hughes put a hand on his shoulder, causing him to stop walking. “Ed, I know you’re frustrated, but please listen to me, do not go after Morgan. We don’t know what he’s capable of.”

“I know, I know,” Ed stared down at the floor, very aware of the missing arm on the right side of his body. “I’m no use like this.”

“What?” Hughes choked, shocked. “No, that’s not what I meant.” He sighed. “You’re not useless like this. You were the one who found proof that he was up to something, remember that. And you managed to get that proof without getting caught. That’s one hell of an accomplishment, though don’t take this as me condoning what you did. Listen, sometimes you have to let other people handle the situation. It’s not a weakness, it’s life. You’re very good at alchemy and hand-to-hand combat. This is a very different field. You have to learn to lean on other people and allow them to help you. It’s not a weakness, understand?”

Ed nodded, even though he didn’t believe what Hughes was saying. If he had had his automail, he could have stopped Morgan then and there. No sneaking investigation is required.

“Edward,” Hughes said, pulling him out of his thoughts, “please promise me that you will let me and the rest of Investigations handle this.”

He sighed and forced himself to look up at him. “Alright. I promise. But why aren’t you going after him now? Why does Fleck seem so unbothered about this? He stole classified documents!”

Hughes laughed. “Kid, this happened every other week in this country. We are taking it seriously, but this is not the first time I’ve had to deal with something like this. Trust me. We’ll get him before he hurts someone. Okay?”

Ed slumped forward and nodded. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Good. And next time, stick to research. You can’t be good at everything. And you shouldn’t have to be.”

“I got it, okay? I’m not going to go chasing after Morgan. Especially not like this.”

“Good, now come on. I’ll take you and your brother out to dinner.” He dropped his hand and started walking forward once more.

Ed glanced back at Central and then hurried to catch up with Hughes. He knew, deep down, that Hughes was right. He wasn’t any help like this. He hated to admit it, but in the end, he couldn’t find any reason to think otherwise.

Chapter Text

The next day, Ed went to work just like normal. Al could tell something was wrong; he always could. But, Ed hid the truth from him. He didn't even know why at this point. Mustang was going to find out soon if he hadn’t already. (Though, based on the lack of phone call shouting matches, Ed assumed he hadn’t yet been informed) There was no need to hide anything from Al anymore.

But he couldn’t tell him what was going on. He felt ashamed that he had just let Morgan walk out of the records room. He didn’t even put up a fight. Didn’t even attempt to trap him with Alchemy. He had just sat there, like a scared baby, frozen and watching Morgan walk out with documents that could potentially kill a lot of people. And then he had ran to Hughes crying.

How pathetic.

How useless.

Al wouldn’t call him useless when he heard. But he’d coddle him. Try and soothe him and tell him it wasn’t his fault, even though that was a lie. Ed should have done something to stop Morgan.

And he didn’t.

And now he was going to have to work the entire day with that bastard pretending like everything was normal. He didn’t feel normal. He felt like he was going to throw up. Or punch Morgan. Or both. Fleck had taken one look at him this morning and quickly shuffled him to the back to work on the Classified H Files together.

“You’re doing great,” Fleck said quietly, smiling at him. “I’ve contacted General Grieves to see if he knows what was taken. Lieutenant Colonel Hughes’ subordinates are looking into the work Morgan did under Colonel Olson to see if anything pops up there. Don’t you worry. We’ll catch him in no time.”

Ed nodded, not trusting his voice or his stomach. Why was it so nerve-wracking to be so close to Morgan? He had spent time around bad guys before. He had been forced to sit next to them, talk to them, pretend he didn’t know the games they were playing. This should be nothing.

Except, it wasn’t nothing. He heard Bosco and Harrison chatting pleasantly among themselves while the sounds of papers being shuffled around filled the room. He glanced back at them, straining his neck to see if he could catch a glimpse of Morgan. He needed to see what he was doing. If he was planning anything else.

He had to know they were onto him. What if he pulled out his service weapon and started firing? What if Morgan killed everyone in this room and Ed did nothing to stop him?

Morgan was glaring at Harrison. It wasn’t just the glare of an annoyed person. Ed could tell now. He looked like he wanted to murder them. Had he always looked this angry or was he just seeing things?

“Major Elric,” Colonel Fleck said, snapping him from his thoughts.

Ed jumped and looked back at him. The image of Morgan glaring at Bosco and Harrison was seared into his mind. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and his entire body screamed at him to get away from here. He was in danger.

“Are you going to be able to complete your duties or am I going to have to remove you from this project? I’d rather not, given that you only have about a week left. It’d look suspicious if you suddenly had to leave.”

Ed got the message loud and clear. He shook his head and forced himself to say, “No, sir. I can still work. Sorry about that.”

It felt like everything was underwater, moving slowly. Muffled. He turned back to continue his filing. He didn’t want to be removed from the project now. First off, Mustang would kill him, if he wasn’t planning to do so already. But also, Fleck was right. Any sudden changes could spook Morgan. He might run off as soon as he realized they were onto him, decreasing the chances of ever catching him or figuring out what he was up to. Ed didn’t stop him in the Records Room that night. And he wasn’t helping with the investigation. But, he’d be damned if his actions put the entire country into jeopardy because he couldn’t ignore one measly little traitor for a few days.

Fleck’s face softened. “Good. I know this is hard, but it’s necessary.”

“I know. I understand.” And he did.

Harrison said something that made Bosco laugh.

“Do they know?” he asked.

“Of course. I briefed them both this morning. They’re keeping an eye on him and trying to see if he takes an interest in anything else.”

That made him relax a fraction. Bosco and Harrison were both capable soldiers. Morgan wasn’t the only one with a service weapon on his body. If he tried anything, he was certain Bosco and Harrison could stop him.

*****
Three days had passed and they had yet to make a move on Morgan. Ed kept wanting to ask Fleck for updates, but he only ever saw the man during work hours when Morgan was right there. Even if Fleck wanted to give him information, he likely wouldn’t because the enemy might overhear. And Hughes was still gone so Ed couldn’t pester him for information.

He hated being kept in the dark like this. He hated that he wasn’t asked to help, wasn’t asked for any more information, wasn’t asked to do anything. The only thing he needed to do was show up to work and go about business as usual.

It was like one slap to the face after another. Yes, he couldn’t fight, but he still might be able to be of some help to the case!

More than once, he wanted to sneak back into the Records Room, just to make sure. After all, the only reason they knew about Morgan in the first place was that he snuck down there at night. But he didn’t go back. He didn’t want to risk getting caught by anyone. And, if they had set up a sting operation down there, the last thing he needed was to get caught. Which would just serve to make him look guilty and like he was trying to pin the blame on Morgan.

Mustang still had yet to call and yell at him. This either meant that no one had told him anything, or he wanted to wait to yell at Ed in person. He wanted him to call, though. He wanted to ask him what he should do. He wanted him to give some advice. He wanted him to assure him he wasn’t useless. He wanted someone to talk to about this whole mess. He could have picked up the phone and called Mustang, of course. But all the phones in the dorms were monitored. All of the lines in any military building were monitored. What if Morgan wasn’t working alone? What if Ed called Mustang to talk about the case only to have another enemy listen in? He couldn’t risk it.

He also didn’t want to risk it. Because Mustang would be pissed when he found out what Ed had done. He’d be furious and as childish as it was, Ed wanted to delay experiencing that anger for as long as possible. So, he didn’t call Mustang. He didn’t ask Fleck what was going on. He didn’t drop by Hughes’ apartment every night to see if he was back yet and demand answers.

He wasn’t used to sitting back and waiting, and he hated it. He hated that he couldn’t rush in and deal with the problem quickly. He hated that he was forced to trust other people could handle the situation. He hated the fact that he still didn’t have his automail and if he did have it, he could have dealt with this whole thing quickly instead of sitting back like some useless piece of shit.

It was likely because of his frustrations and anxiety that he forgot his coat once again.

“Oh, come on!” he groaned, standing at the top of the stairs, shivering in the cold night.

Bosco, Harrison, and Morgan had all gone off towards the dorms. Fleck had gone off to meet with General Grieves. He knew for a fact no one would be down in the Records Room at this moment. He had been using his prosthetics for almost a month now. He was faster with them, more stable. The stairs didn’t give him nearly the same amount of trouble as they had the first time he had been forced to go up and down them.

But… if he did go down to the Records Room, he might accidentally sabotage the investigation. Sure, there was no one down there now, but that didn’t mean Fleck and Grieves might not be on their way. And, they had more people working under them than just Bosco and Harrison. They could have placed more people down there just in case Morgan was monitoring their every move.

He felt a few raindrops fall on his head. The temperature seemed to plummet several more degrees.

He was faster now than before, but it’d still take him fifteen minutes to get to the library. And, it’d take another twenty minutes to get from the library to the dorms.

It started raining now. Properly raining.

“Screw it. I’ll be in and out in a minute.” He turned and went back inside.

Maybe it was stupid for him to go back when there was an active investigation going on, but he was cold, tired, and frustrated. Even though he didn’t have his automail, his ports were still swollen and sore from the rain and cold. He had a headache from hunching over stupid documents all day. Tears of frustration were prickling at his eyes. They weren’t telling him anything. He was fucking useless to everyone. He just wanted to be warm and dry and not have to worry about fucking Morgan and his fucking spy shit! Dammit, he was going to get his fucking coat and then hobble to the fucking library if it was the last thing he did!

He hobbled his way back down to the Records Room. Thankfully, the transmutation circles Al had drawn on his hand hadn’t gotten smudged in the rain. He didn’t even know if he had chalk on him anymore.

One palm to the wall later and he was inside the room. There, on the floor, was his coat, in all its red glory. Furthermore, it didn’t seem like anyone else was down here. He hadn’t exactly been stealthy in opening up the wall.

“See, in and out in less than thirty seconds.” He grinned and went to pick it up.

He must have stood wrong. Or put his body weight on his prosthetic wrong. Or maybe he hadn’t put it on correctly that morning. Whatever the case, before he could even comprehend what was happening, the entire damn thing buckled and he went crashing to the floor. His hand flailed out to grab something. In the process, he nearly overturned the small table Fleck had been using as a desk. The table stayed standing, but the papers and pencils on it went flying all over the place. He crashed to the floor, jarring his already sore and aching shoulder; nearly cracking his head open on the ground. Wouldn’t that be a way to go? Death by falling.

He laid there on the ground for a few seconds. His entire body ached and his heart pounded in his chest. Hell, even his body was shaking.

“Fuck me,” he groaned. “This night can’t possibly get any worse.” He rolled over to his back, wincing as the pencils dug into him.

Well, now he knew for certain no one was down here as the amount of noise he had made would certainly tip off any sentries that someone was here who wasn’t supposed to be here.

“Strange,” he grumbled, “I’d be watching this place like a hawk if I knew Morgan had already successfully stolen something.”

Unless of course, they determined Morgan had gotten what he wanted. But, that didn’t make sense since Morgan was still here. Or, maybe spies didn’t leave as soon as they got the information they wanted? He didn’t know! This spy shit was complicated.

Finally feeling a bit steadier, he sat up and checked his leg, twisting it back into place and making sure it was on securely. When that was done, he stood and scooped up the papers, putting them back on the desk. Next, he picked up the cup and put the pencils in it. In the process, he accidentally kicked one underneath the bookshelf.

He threw his head back and let out a whine. He was so, so close to breaking down completely. So close to just sitting on the floor and sobbing because these past few weeks had been nothing but stress and frustration. If anyone else had heard him, he would have been embarrassed. He would have tried to shove his feelings as deep as they could go. Now, though, he just wanted to go home. He just wanted his automail back. He just wanted his team back. The team that would keep him in the loop. The team that would give him something other than filing to do. The team that wouldn’t treat him like a useless baby. He wanted Mustang to make fun of him and Hawkeye to scold him and Havoc to ask him for help to prank Breda and Fuery to ramble on about new technology and Falman to talk to him about a new book he read and Breda to join him in making sarcastic remarks about Mustang.

He scrubbed away some tears that had managed to leak from his eyes. “I’ll just leave it. The fucker doesn’t need any more pencils.”

Except, Fleck was very particular about his office supplies. He wouldn’t put it past him to count each pencil before starting the day. Ed couldn’t risk him finding out that he had been down here after being explicitly told not to come back here. And if Ed was found out, that could get Hughes in trouble if it came out that he knew Ed had broken in several times before. He couldn’t do that to Hughes, not after everything the man had done for him and Al.

He let out another frustrated groan and made his way back down onto the floor and his stomach. He looked underneath the shelf and winced. There were at least five pencils under there. He reached his hand out, fingertips just barely brushing them. Shit, he was going to have to either move the bookshelf or go under it.

The space between the floor and shelf was narrow, but it was just high enough for him to wiggle his way underneath.

He could hear Mustang laughing at him now. You’re so short you can fit underneath a bookshelf? Now that’s impressive! Even mice have a hard time squeezing underneath those things.

“Fucking bastard. I’m doing all this work so you look good and you sit there and laugh at me.”

It was difficult to wiggle his way completely under. After all, he did only have one arm and one leg. But, he did manage it.

As he fumbled around for the pencils, his fingers brushed something.

He froze. Then, tentatively, he reached his hand out again. It felt like stiff paper. No, it was too big to simply be a piece of paper. It felt like it was a folder. Maybe an accordion folder?

He wiggled around some more; eventually managing to get ahold of his. As he pulled it towards him, his brow furrowed.

“That’s strange. What’s this doing down here? Did it get kicked under the shelf by accident?”

Fleck did say in the disorganization, some of the files may have been misplaced. But, this didn’t look like the files from the room. This was just a plain accordion file folder. No name or date on it.

He paused for a second, wondering if he should just leave it or give it to Fleck tomorrow. Fleck did say anything he found that looked like it didn’t belong should be brought straight to him. Ed didn’t know how he was going to do that without giving himself away. Unless, of course, he slipped it in a pile somewhere.

But it had no name or date on it. It didn’t look like it belonged down here. He wasn’t technically supposed to look in the classified files, but this didn’t say classified…

Curiosity got the best of him and he flicked it open.

Potassium Cyanide: Easy to get but easy to detect. DO NOT USE

Arsenic: Incredibly Easy to Detect. DO NOT USE

Atropa belladonna: Easy to get, difficult to detect in an autopsy, difficult to detect in food.

He flicked through the pages. There were several more notes on various methods to poison someone. Some mentioned whether or not to use them. Ed felt his heart rate speed up. He knew Amestris would attempt assassinations on people from other countries. But vaguely knowing stuff like that happened and reading a memo about how to best carry it out were two different things.

He flicked to the next page.

Atropa belladonna is what GG is recommending. We’ll have to coordinate the attack as Armstrong, Grumman, Hakuro, Raven, and Bradley are all spread out over the country. If one falls, it will immediately be detected by the others. By hitting them all at once, we can ensure the power structure is weakened enough to take over.

LB is working with LH now on the timeframe. They’ll have a better idea of when to strike later. LH is suggesting doing it while Bradley is on holiday this winter to decrease the risk of internal communications. I agree with this sentiment and will be discussing it further with GG at the meeting tomorrow.

Wait, no, this wasn’t a plot to assassinate a foreign leader. This was a plot to assassinate several Amestrian generals.

“Someone was trying to kill the generals and Fuhrer?” He flicked through the pages. Whatever it was didn’t work as no one on the list had died. Even still, something about this didn’t sit right with him.

He continued to flick through the file. It was thick and well-researched. Further back there were toxicology screening from victims, reports on the movements of each general being targeted (including best times to slip in the poison), and so on.

The fact that the file didn’t have a date or list a commanding officer in charge of the investigation was settling in the back of his mind, scratching against the neurons in a way that suggested he was close to stumbling into something big. He had no doubt that people often tried to kill the Fuhrer and generals. He had no doubt that these plots were a dime a dozen. But it was written in Amestrian, not Drachman or Xingese or Cretan or anything else. Maybe this was a translated document of the original. Then again, there was no indication that this was part of a larger investigation. Unless it had gotten separated from those files. Had that been why Fleck had told him to be on the lookout for weird folders?

He should go to Fleck with this. He would probably know what this belonged to and put it with the rest of the files.

Except…

He didn’t want to. He didn’t think he could. This was more than just getting in trouble for sneaking into the records room. There was something weird about this. Strange. No, he couldn’t go to Fleck with this. He’d go to Hughes instead. He’d know what to do with it. Hell, he worked in Investigations so he’d probably know what this plot was referring to.

But, if Hughes wasn’t there… Dammit, he’d have to go to Mustang. He’d be furious at him; he’d yell at him for hours, but he’d know what to do. He’d know Ed wasn’t up to something and he’d trust his judgment.

Yeah. That was a plan. That was a good plan. He could do this. He could go and give Mustang a call if Hughes wasn’t in his office. He had his number, had memorized it early on. There was a phone booth not far from Central Command. He’d call Mustang at his home and ask the bastard what he should do. Then he’d tell Al. He would have to tell Al. That was the plan.

He shimmied to get out from underneath the bookshelf. It was painstaking to turn himself around and pull himself inch by inch back towards the main part of the room. The accordion file was clenched between his teeth. The dust that had gathered on it coated his tongue and made him gag. He was almost out. Almost done with the night.

The door burst open. Slammed so hard against the wall he heard the handle dent it. It wasn’t quiet like when Morgan had picked the lock. Instead, it sounded a lot like when Ed kicked Mustang’s door open. Except, where he did that to annoy Mustang, this sounded almost like someone was trying to kick it clean off its hinges. He froze. The lights flicked on. The hum and buzz of them seemed to echo throughout the room and the harsh lighting washed it out and caused harsh shadows to spread over the walls.

Oh, sit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Morgan was back. Morgan was back and looking for something. Shit. There was a folder in his hands (well, in his teeth, but semantics). A plot to assassinate several well-known generals. Morgan had been working here for months now. He was looking for something. That had to be what he was after. Oh fuck. Oh shit. Oh fuck.

He somehow managed to shove himself back under the bookshelf, enough so that he was completely hidden away from the intruder. Maybe Morgan had figured out they were onto him and was coming to grab what he could before getting the hell out of here.

Except…

There were multiple people. He could see now as the lights flicked on that there were at least four—no, five people in the room. The fifth person was being dragged in, held up by two others. Shit. Shit. Shit. Fuck. Shit. What was going on here?

“This is getting out of hand, Fleck,” a man who Ed recognized to be General Grieves growled.

“Fuck you. You won’t get away with this.”

Ed’s eyes widened when he realized it was Morgan who said that.

“Shut up!” He could hear Bosco shout. No, not Bosco. She… she couldn’t be here. She couldn’t sound that mean.

He winced as he heard the dull thud of a fist hitting a person’s body. From his hiding place, he could see Morgan’s body lurch to the side.

“They’ll all know soon enough. Colonel Olson knows you’re up to something. That’s why she sent me here. We’ve been gathering evidence for months.”

Bosco punched him again.

“I’m handling it, General Grieves,” Fleck growled. He didn’t sound anything like the jovial man who had talked Ed’s ear off about filing and highlighters. He sounded evil. “As far as we can tell, he hasn’t found what he’s looking for. I don’t know what evidence you think you’ve been sending to Colonel Olson, but I guarantee it’s not in those files, boy.”

“Fuck you.” This time it was Harrison who kicked him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

Morgan bent over, his face turning red as he gasped and struggled to breathe. Ed needed to do something. He needed to help him. He needed to move. Why wouldn’t his body move?

“Besides, that idiot lieutenant colonel has left me completely in charge of the investigation,” Fleck continued. “As far as he’s concerned, Morgan is the traitor here. And, if Morgan’s the traitor, it won’t be difficult to paint that bitch as a traitor as well.”

Ed couldn’t get his breathing under control. He felt like he was breathing both too fast and not at all. The bookshelf was pressing in on him, crushing him, pinning him in place although he knew he could move from underneath there. They didn’t know he was here. He could help. He could move. He could trap them all and do something!

He finally did move… only to clamp a hand over his mouth, desperately trying to quiet his panicked breaths. He felt like his eyes were glued to the scene in front of him, watching every movement in a way that almost hypnotized him.

“You think you’re going to get away with this?” Morgan panted.

Drops of blood fell from his face, splashing on the floor in a sickening crimson wave that stuck out against the gray tile.

“Who are you working for? The Cretans? The Drachmans?”

Bosco scoffed. “Seriously? Don’t believe every rumor you hear. We’re not working for anyone.”

“Yeah, what’s the point in that?” Harrison added. “If you want power, you’re not going to get it working under someone else.”

“Bosco, Harrison, enough!” Fleck shouted. He turned to Morgan, bending over and gripping his chin, forcing Morgan to look at him. “We are going to get away with this. Investigations take forever to complete. By the time they figure out something is wrong, it’ll already be too late.”

Despite clearly not being in control of the situation, Morgan didn’t look scared. He didn’t look away from Fleck. He didn’t cower.

If anything, he straightened up as much as he could with Bosco and Harrison, looked Fleck right in the eye, and said, “Investigations may be slow, but Lieutenant Colonel Hughes isn’t.”

“Shut up!” Fleck roared.

Ed couldn’t help the gasp that escaped from him as he watched Fleck kick Morgan in the face. More blood splashed onto the ground and the force was enough to wrench Morgan out of Bosco and Harrison’s grip.

His gasp must have been too loud though as Harrison turned to where he was hiding and stepped closer.

Finally, Ed’s body moved. Not to help Morgan, though, but instead to push himself further under the bookshelf. His hand was still clapped over his mouth, desperately trying to keep him as silent as possible as Harrison stepped closer. Closer. Closer.

Closer.

“He has a point,” Grieves said. “Hughes is going to investigate this no matter what. You should have handled this months ago. Why’d you let outsiders help? And we still have the boy we have to keep an eye on. Everyone knows what Mustang’s like.”

Closer.

“The boy is being dealt with.” Fleck snapped. “He so frightened of Morgan that he’s not going to be snooping around. And, in a few days, he’ll be gone for good.”

Closer.

Harrison was standing right in front of him. Ed could practically touch the tips of his boots. If they found him, he was screwed. He couldn’t fight like this, even against a bunch of normal people. And with the rain making him extra sore and unsteady, he’d be even slower, even weaker.

Even more useless.

Morgan wrenched out of Bosco’s hands, kicking her in the stomach and making a break for the door.

“Dammit! Harrison, get your ass back over here and keep him in place!” Fleck shouted.

Harrison sprinted after Morgan, tackling him and slamming his head into the ground. Bile rose in his throat as he saw Morgan’s forehead had been split open from the impact. He dragged him back over to where Bosco was standing.

“Leave Hughes to me,” Fleck growled. “I’ll direct him and distract him long enough for us to carry out our plan. As for this piece of shit—” He kicked Morgan’s side. Morgan let out a grunt but otherwise didn’t move.

“Muggings go wrong all the time. Even for Drachman spies.”

Grieves grunted his approval. “Get it done. And find that file! I can’t waste any more time on this. The Fuhrer is going on holiday in a week and we have to move now if we want to succeed.”

“Yes, sir,” Fleck said.

For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then, Grieves left the room and closed the door with a click.

“You won’t get away with this,” Morgan huffed again. “They’ll find you. And you’ll be put in front of a firing squad.”

“Don’t worry,” Bosco said, practically cooing, “the only one who’s going to die is you.”

Ed couldn’t comprehend what happened next. He supposed that was his brain's way of trying not to experience even more trauma. If anything, he felt like he was floating, outside of his body. Observing a scene that wasn’t quite real.

It was like a pack of feral dogs jumping on a piece of meat. Fleck, Bosco, and Harrison were on Morgan, kicking and punching him. Over and over and over and over and over again.

Blood.

There was so much blood.

The floors were no longer a grayish-white. They were red.

Something wet splashed onto his cheek. The floor was starting to get wet too. He could feel it soaking into his clothes. Was it raining in here? Did the basement have a leak? He brought his shaking fingers up to his cheek and wiped it away. When he pulled them back, they were red.

Oh, they’re beating him to death. He felt numb. He was distantly aware such a revelation should be doing something to him. Instead, he felt strangely calm. Detached.

Morgan was making some sort of noise. Crying out as Ed could only assume his bones were turned to jelly. Harrison seemed to be doing the most amount of damage, stomping down on Morgan’s body over and over and over and over again. Fleck stopped hurting him very quickly and instead sat back to watch as his lieutenants finished off the job.

Morgan stopped making noises.

He thought the others would stop hurting him.

They didn’t. They kept punching and kicking him.

He couldn’t look away. He couldn’t move to help. He should be helping. He should leap out of there and try and take them all on. He couldn’t move. His leg wouldn’t move. His hand wouldn’t move. He couldn’t even remember how to use the arrays on his hands. He could only watch.

His cheeks were wet.

More blood?

No, these were clear. Tears? Was he crying? Why? He wasn’t the one getting hurt.

They kept attacking him.

Morgan wasn’t making any sounds.

Why were they still attacking if he wasn’t making any sounds?

They stopped attacking him.

“Is he breathing?” Fleck asked, pulling back.

Bosco bent down. Her entire fist was bloody, but it wasn’t her blood.

A heartbeat.

Another.

Another.

“Nope. He’s dead.” She stood back up and wiped her hands on her uniform.

“Get rid of him. Dump him in a back alley near a bar. Strip him of any cash and valuables he has on him and make sure he smells like a drunk. Then, come back down here and clean up this mess. The brat is going to be here tomorrow. Make sure he has no reason to be suspicious.”

“Yes, sir,” Bosco and Harrison said.

All three of them (Four, there were four of them. Morgan was a human. He was a person). All four of them left the room. Bosco and Harrison dragged Morgan between them. The lights turned off. The door shut. Ed couldn’t move.

Morgan wasn’t the one behind this? Fleck and Grieves were? He looked down to see the folder still beside him, now stained with blood. He had to tell someone. He had to move. He had to get out of here. This place was a mess. They’d be back soon to clean it up.

Hughes. He had to get to Hughes.

He finally managed to get his body to move and scrambled out from underneath the bookshelf. Something caught on a nail and he yanked himself out, hearing a tear behind him. He didn’t stop to question it and stumbled to his feet. The floor was covered in blood. Slippery.

Once more he was frozen staring at the scene. He had just watched… Morgan was…

Bile rose in his throat. He was going to vomit.

He swallowed it down and hobbled to the wall he had been using to get in and out. Hughes. He had to get to Hughes. He had to let him know about Morgan. He’d know what to do. He could make sure Morgan hadn’t… he hadn’t… Morgan was dead.

Morgan was dead and it was all his fault because he cowered under the bookshelf like a fucking weakling! He didn’t try to fight any of them. He didn’t try to save him. He stayed there frozen and watched as Morgan was beaten to death. Just because he couldn’t fight them hand to hand didn’t mean he couldn’t subdue them. He had his alchemy and the element of surprise. He could have helped, but he didn’t and now Morgan was dead.

Somehow, despite feeling like his legs were about to fall off and he was about to vomit, he managed to stumble his way out of the room and back into the office. Now that everything was catching up with him, he was moving faster. Pushing himself to hurry. As if he could outrun what he had just witnessed. As if he could move fast enough to leave it all behind.

He burst through the door of Hughes’ office, not caring if anyone saw him. Not caring if anyone was there. He needed help. He needed Hughes.

He needed Mustang.

Only, the office was dark. There was no one there.

“No, no, no, no, no. Where are you?” He whined. His home. He had to be at his home. Fuck, that meant Elicia and Mrs. Garcia would likely be there as well. He shouldn’t put them in any danger.

“I’ve got Bosco and Harrison taking care of the body now. I’m going back down to clean up,” Fleck said from down the hall.

No, they’d know he was here! He scrambled over to the door, quickly shutting it. He then rushed over to the desk and flung himself behind it. Once more, he clasped his hand over his mouth, folder crushed to his chest. He had to get out of here. He had to get help. There was a phone on the desk. He had Mustang’s number.

No, couldn’t use the phone. It was military. It was monitored. General Grieves had power. General Grieves had a ton of men working under him. General Grieves could be monitoring it. They’d be watching the library as well. They’d be watching him. He couldn’t go there. Not yet. They might see him and stop him. He couldn’t go there. He had to get off the base. He had to get away from the military. They were watching him. If they could make Morgan disappear, they could make him disappear. They could take Al. They could treat him like a lab rat.

He crawled to the wall and, almost on instinct, used alchemy to make yet another hole. The office itself was higher than he assumed, but it’d have to do. Fleck might be at the door. Grieves might have someone watching the door. He couldn’t risk anyone in the military seeing him. Only Hughes and Mustang.

He took a deep breath and dropped onto the bushes below. He’d fix Hughes’ wall later. His prosthetic popped off. In the rain and darkness, it took what felt like a year to put it back on. Each second he sat beneath the office in the bushes, he was sure someone was going to find him.

He needed to move. He needed help.

The prosthetic was back on. He ran as fast as he could to Hughes’ apartment.

His lungs were burning and heart-pounding until he found his way to that apartment building. No one was out wandering the halls at this time at night, and for that he was grateful. He’d apologize to Mrs. Garcia later for probably waking up Elicia. Hopefully, she’d understand.

He stumbled to a stop in front of Hughes’ door and knocked on it. More like pounded on it. If the man was asleep, he wanted him to be awake immediately.

“Lieutenant Colonel? Lieutenant Colonel, I need to talk to you,” he shouted, before realizing that he probably shouldn’t be waking up everyone on this floor.

He knocked again; this time quieter. “Please,” he whimpered, his heart still pounding even though he was no longer running. “Please, I need help.”

No answer. Maybe he could break in and go directly to their room himself? On second thought, maybe surprising a man who had an arsenal of throwing knives on him at all times wasn’t a good idea.

He pounded on the door again. “Please. I need… someone. I can’t… he’s got too many people working for him. He might be watching Al. Morgan’s… I need… please.”

He heard a door open. It wasn’t the Hughes’.

“What on Earth?”

He looked over to see an older woman fastening a bathrobe while strutting out into the hall, pink slippers on her feet, curlers in her hair, and glasses perched on her nose. Ed half expected to see a rolling pin in her hand, ready to strike.

“Who is making all that ruckus this time of—oh,” Her eyes fell on Ed, who probably looked more pathetic than normal, given that he was soaked, missing an arm, and probably looked like he was in the middle of a panic attack. Screw it, he didn’t look like he was in the middle of a panic attack, he was in the middle of a panic attack.

And crying. He was also crying.

“Do you need help, young man?” she asked, her harsh voice from earlier disappearing to one a lot more soothing and calming. It almost made Ed burst into sobs.

“Um… I need to talk to Lieutenant Colonel Hughes,” he said, trying to keep a grip on his fraying emotions.

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear, he and his family are out of town.”

“Out of town?”

“Yes, to visit Garcia’s mother.”

Shit. That’s right. He and Mrs. Garcia left. Fleck told him to leave so it didn’t look suspicious. He knew Hughes was gone. He knew Ed was alone.

“Do you know when they’ll be back?” he croaked.

She shook her head. “I can call the police if you need help. You don’t look so good. Is that blood? Are you hurt?”

No, he couldn’t risk calling the police. They might know that he was working under Fleck and call him. Then he’d know for sure Ed knew what was going on.

“Um… no. It can wait.”

She didn’t look convinced. He had to make a choice. He had to make sure these files didn’t fall into Fleck’s hands or General Grieves.

He bit his lip and pulled out the slightly damp files. “Do you have a pen or something I can use?”

“Yes, why don’t you come inside with me.”

“No, that’s okay, ma’am.”

“Unless you want to write on the floor, young man, you can use my end table.”

He thought about it for a second before deciding she was right. She handed him a pen and he managed to scribble down the basics of what had happened. Fleck and Grieves killed Morgan and were working together to kill the Fuhrer and several other generals.

“Is there a mailbox or something I can put this in?” He was thinking about sliding it under the door, but he didn’t want to risk someone else coming to look for it. Fleck might come by. He could break it. He could steal the file and then all of the proof would be gone.

“Yes, I’ll take you down there.”

“You have the key to the mailroom?”

“Dear, this is my building. I have a key to all the rooms.”

He shut his mouth and followed her down to the front lobby area. She opened the door and he shoved the file into the small slot.

“If you see him, can you tell him this is here?” he asked her.

She studied him for a few moments before sighing and nodding. “I suppose I could do that. Are you sure I can’t convince you to wait out the storm in my apartment? You’re going to catch your death like that.”

“I’m sure. Thank you, for all your help.”

“Alright, then. Stay safe out there.”

He waved to her and stepped back outside, huddling under the awning of the building to shield himself from the elements at least a bit. He couldn’t go to the library. He couldn’t go to the dorms. He needed someone to know about this. Someone he could trust. Fleck and Grieves were talking about murdering the Fuhrer and all the other generals next week. He had to get in contact with Mustang and he had to do it now. Mustang would know who to trust. He would know who to go to.

He swallowed and took a deep breath. It was a pathetic attempt to steady himself and calm his racing mind. The help it gave was minimal.

He had Mustang’s home phone number. It was late enough that he likely wouldn’t be in the office. Ed couldn’t use any of the phones on base, but there were other phones in the area. He stuck his hand in his pocket and dug out some change. It’d be enough for one phone call. It had to be enough for one phone call.

He took another deep breath, looked around to see if anyone was lurking, if anyone was watching, and then stepped out into the rain and headed towards the one phone he knew wouldn’t be monitored by the military.

He just hoped his faith in Mustang wasn’t misplaced, and he would know what to do.

Chapter Text

Everything burned as Ed made his way through the streets. Normally, he felt like he was a pretty fit kid. He kind of had to be. Not only was he constantly running after criminals, but he was also doing it while hauling around an extra thirty or so pounds of metal. He could run and run fast. But tonight, it felt like his entire body was attempting to swim through molasses. He struggled to pick up his feet. He stumbled and tripped over air. More than once, he had to put his hand on the wall to steady himself and catch his breath. His back, shoulders, and legs were starting to burn. Tomorrow (if he even made it to tomorrow), he’d be so sore he likely wouldn’t be able to get out of bed.

He didn’t know if this sudden loss of physical fitness was because he had been working a desk job for the past several weeks, the trauma, or simply exhaustion as the adrenalin slowly left his blood. Either way, he was sick and tired of it. He wanted to go home. He wanted to be back on the road with Al. He wanted to forget about Morgan and Fleck and that stupid records room.

The image of Morgan’s blood staining the floor flashed into his mind. He stumbled against a building and doubled over. He didn’t have much else to vomit up, considering he hadn’t eaten dinner yet and lunch was several hours ago. However, that didn’t stop him from spitting up globs of disgusting bile.

His knees felt weak like he was about to collapse on the street.

“You’re okay. You’re okay,” he said quietly. It was a pathetic and desperate attempt to self-soothe. It, predictably, didn’t work. Now more than ever what he wouldn’t give to hear Mustang. Even if it was just to yell at him or call him short, he needed something. He needed someone.

He scrubbed the tears and snot from his face and stood back up, continuing slowly but surely towards the park where the phone booth was at. Morgan had been killed. There was nothing he could do about that. No amount of crying or vomiting was going to bring him back. But, that didn’t mean Ed should just give up and abandon everything. Morgan’s killers could still be brought to justice. He could still do something to stop Fleck and the rest of his team from hurting anyone else. Morgan knew they were up to something. That’s why he was there. Ed would be damned if he let Morgan die in vain. He would finish his mission. He would get in contact with someone to let them know what Fleck was up to. He wouldn’t let anyone else get hurt by those monsters.

“Come on, you’re almost there,” he said, gritting his teeth and hauling himself forward once more.

Thankfully, the rain had let up in the time it took him to walk from Hughes’ apartment to the park. He was still soaking wet; shivering pathetically as his limbs throbbed with the change in pressure and the cold. And, while it was no longer pouring out as it had been, there was a steady drizzle tapping on the ground, on the leaves of the trees, filling the normally still night with various sounds and echoes.

He saw the phone booth up ahead. It looked frightening, sitting out there in the dark without anything else around it. There was a single light illuminating it. The contrast was so stark it made it difficult to see what surrounded it. There could be anything hiding in those bushes.

He shivered, stopping a few feet away from the booth and looking around. There could be anything hiding in those bushes. Chimeras. Scar. Fleck. Truth. He couldn’t see them well in the dark. The phone booth kept pulling his gaze, making it difficult to concentrate on anything around him. His heart started beating faster, not because he was exerting himself, but because he was afraid.

There could be monsters hiding in those bushes, and he’d never know.

“Come on. You’re almost there. Do it for Morgan,” he said, forcing his feet to continue towards the phone booth. He wasn’t a baby. He was the Fullmetal Alchemist. He could take on a few monsters, even like this. Besides, the circles Al drew on his hand were still good. He wasn’t helpless. He could do this.

He needed to do this. Right now he had no ideas of what to do or where to go. He had no idea who he could trust or even if he could trust anyone. Mustang was from Central. He had to have someone who could put Ed up for the night until Hughes came back or Mustang came here. He had to know where he could go for help. While Ed was making his way to the phone booth, he briefly thought about going to Major Armstrong. He trusted that man and Mustang seemed to as well. Except, he had no idea where he lived. He didn’t know his number. He didn’t know the numbers of any of Hughes’ lieutenants who were working on Morgan’s case. He knew no one. He knew nothing. He needed help. Mustang was going to help him. He had to. He gave Ed his personal number for this very reason.

He got to the phone booth and pulled open the door. He paused for a second, ears straining as he tried to determine if he heard anything. He could still hear the soft pattering of rain on the ground outside. But was there something else?

Was he hearing footsteps? Or was it simply the sound of rain against the leaves? There! Right there! Was that the sound of someone breathing or was it the wind?

He shivered and turned to the phone. There were so many sounds out that it was impossible to tell which ones were rain and which ones weren’t. It was all too loud, roaring in his ears along with his own blood and the phantom sounds of Morgan’s body being hit and kicked over and over again.

No. He had to focus. He had to call Mustang. He had to get help.

“Come on, come on, come on,” he muttered to himself, struggling to keep the phone against his ear while he dug out the correct amount of change.

He started slipping them into the coin slot, cursing as some of them scattered on the ground.

“Dammit.” He bent over, the phone slipping from his ear and smacking against the booth in the process. It was loud, loud enough that the sound continued to rattle in Ed’s mind long after the phone stopped hitting the wall.

He cursed again and slipped the rest of the coins into the slot. His hand shook as he started dialing Mustang’s home number. His entire body felt numb and his stomach hurt so badly with the fear and anxiety that was still filling him up.

What if he got the number wrong? What if Mustang wasn’t home? He assumed at this time of night that he wouldn’t be in the office anymore, but he could be. Ed didn’t know if he had enough to dial multiple people if this didn’t work out.

No. He couldn’t think like that. He had to stay focused and stay calm. He couldn’t afford to panic now. He couldn’t afford to lose his head now. He couldn’t afford to let Morgan die in vain. He wouldn’t let Morgan die in vain.

He finished dialing the number and went to grab the phone. His hand was so numb it slipped out once more and fell against the side of the phone booth. He finally managed to grab it and press it to his ear. There were still coins on the ground. He should probably pick those up. Just in case he needed to call someone else.

He bent down as best as he could to pick them up, the phone still crushed between his ear and shoulder. His fingertips brushed the coins, pushing them around as he struggled to get a grip on them. Was the phone ringing? Or did he dial the wrong number?

Then, in the corner of his eyes, he noticed something moving in the shadows.

Anything could be hiding in those bushes.

Maybe it was just the trick of the light. A tree branch falling with the wind, rain, and cold. Or a bird moving about.

No. There it was again. Much too big to be a dog or other animal.

His heart started beating faster if that was even possible. His hand still scrambled to pick up the remaining coins on the floor and stuff them in his pockets. He got most of them. A few were still scattered about. He didn’t care anymore. He stood back up, his mind racing as to what to do now.

He couldn’t breathe. It felt like every inhale was just as quickly expelled from his lungs before oxygen could enter his blood.

Wait, was the phone ringing? He hadn’t heard it ring. Or maybe he did but forgot about it because of the shadow thing that was now stalking him.

Oh, God, he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t stand. He was going to throw up again.

Mustang, why wasn’t he picking up? This was his number, wasn’t it? Unless Ed dialed it wrong. Or didn’t put enough coins in the slot. He should put more coins in the slot, just to be sure.

He started digging around his pockets once more. Was that tapping the rain or someone’s footsteps? Should he abandon the phone or stay here? Should he fight or wait?

The door to the phone booth opened.

“Major Elric, what on Earth are you doing out here at this time of night?” Fleck’s slimy voice echoed around him. All at once, it seemed like the rain had stopped. The wind had stopped. His breathing had stopped. The only thing he could hear was Fleck, behind him, breathing on the back of his neck, waiting for him to admit something.

Ed swallowed and turned around. His hand was gripping the phone tightly, tight enough he was afraid he might shatter it.

He had to stay calm. He could still get out of this. He had to get out of this. There was no other option.

“Um… I’m off the clock now, sir. Am I not allowed to use the phone?” Even he could hear the tremors in his voice. It didn’t matter what he said, Fleck likely already knew that Ed knew he was up to something.

The phone wasn’t ringing. The other end was silent. He hadn’t managed to call Mustang after all. Shit. He had to stall Fleck until he thought of a way out of here.

Fleck grinned at him and stepped into the phonebooth, corning Ed against the wall. He tried desperately to keep his breathing calm and his mind focused. If he started panicking now, he would die here. He refused to die here.

“You are, I suppose. It’s just dangerous out here, so late at night. Scar is still running around, hunting alchemists,” Fleck said, practically cooing. “And you’re not exactly in fighting shape, major.”

He shivered, his skin crawling with how Fleck was speaking to him. He noticed Fleck’s eyes lingering on his hand, the thick black lines of a transmutation circle standing out against his skin, now even paler because of the cold.

Ed’s eyes flickered down to where Fleck had his left hand. It was resting on his service weapon.

Ed couldn’t use his alchemy to fight him. As soon as he moved his hand, Fleck would likely have the gun out and fired before Ed could even touch the ground. He had to figure another way out of here. Another way to get past him. And to do that, he needed to stall.

“I need to call my automail mechanic,” he said.

“At this time of night?”

“She’s a bit of a night owl.” He forced himself to laugh. “Trust me, colonel, I have better luck calling her now than during the day.”

“Then, why didn’t you use the phones at the dorms? There’s no need for you to be all the way out here. And, your brother is still at the library. I thought you would have gone straight to him, after work.”

Ed somehow managed to stop the shocked gasp that was threatening to spill from his throat. So, Fleck had someone watching Al. He made the right decision to not go to the library. Al could hold his own in a fight. In fact, right now he was probably the best person to be fighting Fleck and the others. But Al wasn’t the only one in that library. Any number of civilians and workers could have been caught in the crossfire. Fleck could have taken more lives than just Morgan’s. Ed wasn’t going to let that happen. He’d figure out a way to get to Al and to take Fleck down. He wasn’t going to let anyone else die tonight.

“Resembool’s phones are on an older set of phone lines. Sargent Master Fuery explained it to me once.”

“Master Sargent Fuery, major. Please, get the ranks of your colleagues correct,” Fleck said sweetly.

“Right, sorry about that. Anyways, he explained it to me once after I complained I had so much trouble getting in touch with her on military lines.”

Fleck laughed, throwing his head back as he dug around his pockets. Ed flinched, his eyes never leaving the gun on his hip. But, Fleck wasn’t trying to get to that. He was pulling something else out.

“You know, major, you left something in the archives.”

“Did I?” Ed asked. His mind started racing once more. He could feel the adrenaline leaking into his blood once more. He couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t stall any longer. At this point, Fleck was just toying with him, like a cat and mouse. He was trying to see how much Ed would lie before he finally broke. Then, once he did, Fleck would kill him. Shoot him right here before going on to murder the Fuhrer and several other generals around Amestris before he and Grieve’s took over.

Fleck held up a shining silver pocket watch, dangling it in front of Ed. His breath caught in his throat. That must have been what got caught on the bookshelf. How could he have been so stupid? He was in such a hurry to leave that he had actually left evidence behind! If he hadn’t done that, Fleck may have never known he was down there. He might not have been here now, stalking him, watching his brother, and threatening to kill both of them.

“You know, this wasn’t there when I locked up the records room. But when I came back down to look for a file, there it was, sitting out as clear as day.”

Ed swallowed. He had to get out of here.

“We still haven’t figured out what Morgan was up to, but something tells me that you might be involved as well.”

Ed couldn’t help the whimper that came out of his mouth at Morgan’s name. The image of him being beaten to death as blood splattered all over the room made him want to vomit once more. Though, that might actually be a good thing as it would hopefully disgust Fleck so much that he could get away.

“I wonder if you’re a spy as well? Are you worried that Morgan is stealing the information you’re after? There are rumors that your CO is a spy for Xing. Personally, I never thought that moronic, womanizing boy was capable of spying, but now that you’re here… I wonder if he thought I wouldn’t suspect a crippled child of stealing such sensitive information. And I don’t buy your story that you were merely down in the records room because you forgot your coat.”

“No,” he whimpered again. He didn’t know why he was so hell-bent on proving his innocence to Fleck of all people, especially after what he had just witnessed. The silence on the other end of the phone was deafening.

“I think that’s exactly what happened.” Fleck continued. “Awfully convenient of you to find Morgan when I’ve been working with him for months without incident.”

He had to get out of here. He had to think. Come on, think! Yes, he couldn’t use his alchemy and was down an arm and a leg, but everyone had said he wasn’t helpless like this. Mustang had said he wasn’t useless like this. Weakened, but not useless. There had to be a way. There had to be some way to get out of here. He was the Fullmetal Alchemist. He wasn’t going to let Fleck sit there and toy with him.

“And, I know Lieutenant Colonel Hughes is very loyal to Colonel Mustang. I wonder if he’s in on the plot as well. His lovely wife might also be a suspect. It’d be such a shame to have to interrogate her. Do you know how we interrogate suspected spies in this country, major? Regardless of if she’s a spy or not, she’ll still come out of the experience down a husband… and a few fingers.”

An idea popped into his head. It was crazy and risky, but it just might work. It had to work. Now Fleck was threatening Ms. Garcia. It was one thing to threaten him or even Mustang, but he wasn’t going to sit back and let this bastard talk about her like that.

“I lied!” he blurted out. “I wasn’t calling my mechanic. I was calling Colonel Mustang. He’s on the phone now, if you’d like to talk to him.”

He held the phone to Fleck, shifting his weight so he was better balanced for what he was about to do.

Fleck blinked at him as his confession rang out in the night. Then, he burst out laughing. “Do you really expect me to believe that? Mustang won’t be in his office this late at night. Nice try, boy, but how about you quit stalling and come with me. I’m sure if you cooperate,” lie “people will see that you’re just a pawn in Mustang’s game. It’s to be expected, after all. As you are, it’s no wonder you were so easy for Mustang to manipulate.”

Ed rolled his eyes. Seriously, Fleck had spent a month with him and he still was under the impression that Ed’s missing arm and leg meant that he was the exact same as a five-year-old?

“They’ll be lenient on you,” he continued. “You and your brother probably won’t have to face the firing squad. What do you say?”

When Ed was learning how to spar from teacher, she taught him to always, always go for the dick.

”But, teacher,” Al asked one day after they had both thoroughly gotten their asses kicked, “isn’t that a bit… cruel?”

She whacked him on the head for that question. “How many times do I have to tell you? You’re not fighting for fun; you’re fighting to win. To survive. I don’t want to hear about how my students died because they were too noble to hit a man where he’s most vulnerable. You make it so he can’t have children, or you don’t bother fighting at all. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Like all of teacher’s lessons, it stuck with Ed really well.

“Go to hell,” he growled before swinging up his prosthetic with all his might, landing it right where he needed it to.

The benefit of having a prosthetic, any prosthetic really, was that it was much, much harder than a shin. This meant it hurt a lot more. Ed might as well have taken a crowbar to Fleck’s crotch. And, it worked like a charm because Fleck let out a howl of pain and collapsed to his knees, giving Ed the perfect opportunity to kick him again, shove him out of the way, and start running.

“You get back here! I’m going to kill you!” he screamed. “Bosco, Harrison, take him out!”

Shit, Bosco and Harrison were here?

Yup, they were. Up again, he could see them rushing towards him, guns drawn. Ed slammed his hand into the ground, warping the concrete and throwing Bosco back. She managed to fire her gun, though. The bullet whizzed past Ed, grazing his cheek and embedding itself into a tree behind him.

Harrison fired off a few rounds as well. Ed managed to dodge most of them (which was a miracle considering the fact that he couldn’t bend his left leg at all. But, the third shot lodged itself in his right shoulder. Winry was going to kill him. Somehow, even when he didn’t have his automail, he still managed to mess up his automail.

He didn’t waste any time though, once again slamming his hand onto the ground and launching Harrison off his feet and into the bushes.

Fleck was still screaming at them. Ed didn’t bother to turn around and continue the fight. He needed to get somewhere where he could regroup and figure out his next steps.

He didn’t know if he managed to get ahold of Mustang or not, but now that he had destroyed the park, he knew it was only a matter of time before Mustang found out and made his way to Central. He seemed to have a sixth sense about that sort of thing. As soon as Ed destroyed anything, he knew about it and was on his way to yell at him about it. And, even if Mustang didn’t know, Al would probably leave the library in the morning sometime to check on him. When he realized Ed was missing, he’d call up Mustang and let him know. Either way, someone would find out about it. Someone would know that he was missing.

For now, though, his shoulder was throbbing and everything hurt. He didn’t know if he could go through another fight like this. He had barely managed to escape through luck and sheer force of will. If he wanted to survive the night, he was going to have to lay low and keep moving until he had the chance to sneak back into Central and get some help.

He turned down an alleyway and put up a fake wall, catching his breath as he heard Bosco and Harrison run past him. He slumped down next to a dumpster.

“He should have just killed me, instead of threatening me to stay quiet,” he growled.

He was weakened, but he was not useless.

He was going to expose Fleck and Grieves were the traitors and murders that they were. They weren’t going to get away, not while Ed was still breathing. Fleck had underestimated him, and that was going to be his downfall.

Chapter Text

Ed stayed slumped in that alleyway for longer than he cared to admit. It started raining again at one point. He was sure if it were light out, he could see a river of red running from his body into the gutters. Now, though, in the dark, everything looked the same. He was glad. If he saw how much blood he had lost (and was probably still losing) he’d probably pass out.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew he needed a hospital. The cold and the rain were making his automail ports ache horrifically. If he stayed outdoors any longer, he might get pneumonia. There was a bullet lodged in his shoulder, messing with his wiring and making him bleed. Out here, in this dirty alleyway, it was probably going to get infected, if it wasn’t already. He needed to move. He needed to find help. He needed to keep trying to get ahold of Mustang or Hawkeye or someone to let them know that Fleck was up to something.

He knew this, but he couldn’t get himself to move.

He couldn’t forget what it sounded like as Morgan was being murdered. He realized, with a hysterical laugh, he didn’t even know his first name.

He couldn’t forget what Fleck looked like as he threatened not only Ed, but Mustang, Al, Hughes, and Mrs. Garcia. He was smiling the entire time as if he were telling Ed about a particularly interesting filing system he had come across. There was no remorse in his voice, no indication that he didn’t want to hurt Ed and the others. Quite the opposite. He sounded ecstatic at the opportunity to do so.

Ed curled in on himself and wondered if Bosco and Harrison felt the same way.

You know what? Screw them! Even if they did feel remorseful, they still shot at him with the intent on killing him! They still beat Morgan to death! He didn’t care how bad they felt about it; that didn’t change the fact that they had done it.

The more he thought about Bosco, Harrison, and Fleck, the angrier he got. They had orchestrated this entire reorganization effort to find that stupid file folder that was probably put there on accident in the first place. Fleck had looked him in the eye and told him he would investigate Morgan knowing full-well Morgan wasn’t a traitor! Hell, Ed thought he’d get in serious trouble if Fleck found out he had been sneaking back into the records room, but Fleck was the one actually doing bad shit and sneaking around!

Fuck Fleck! Fuck him calling Ed a cripple! Fuck him acting like he was made of glass! Fuck him acting like Ed was five! Fuck him thinking that Ed was a stupid, useless, one-legged child who wasn’t worth anything but a shiny silver pocket-watch!

Ed may not be able to fight, he may not have all his normal tools at his disposal, he might not have any clue how he was going to get out of this alive. But he was Edward Fucking Elric! Beating the odds was kind of his thing. He went through bad situations that would break a normal person and made it out the other side with a single-minded determination that would drive him to overcome any obstacle Truth put in his fucking way.

His brother wasn’t here? So what? Hughes was out of town? Ed never relied on him before. Colonel Bastard didn’t pick up the fucking phone? It wouldn’t be the first time Ed had to deal with a problem without his input!

He wasn’t going to sit in this alleyway any longer, crying because Fleck threatened him. Fuck no! He was going to deal with this and he was going to let someone know that Fleck was insane and trying to kill the Fuhrer!

With a renewed fire burning within him he straightened up and leaned against the wall. His shoulder was burning so badly, but it wasn’t like he was going to use it to fight. He would have to bandage and disinfect it if he was hoping to decrease the chances of it getting infected. And if it got infected, Winry would kill him. Forget Fleck, she was the real force of nature to fear.

He drew a shaky circle on the side of the wall and activated it, creating a small shelter so he was out of the rain. His clothes were still wet, but it was much warmer than before.

“Okay,” he said to himself. “Okay, I need to deal with the shoulder wound, then I need to get back to Central Command to try and alert someone what Fleck is up to.”

He could try to call Mustang again, but getting to a phone was going to be tricky. The issue was he didn’t know how many men under Fleck and Grieves were in on the plot. Ed could be looking at a couple of hundred soldiers, all deployed with the intent of killing him if they found him. It wouldn’t be an issue for Fleck to station someone at the dorms, library, Hughes’ apartment, and surrounding phone booths to catch him. But, Ed couldn’t just wander around either.

Al would know eventually that he was missing. Once he realized that, the first person he would go to would be Fleck since that was who would have seen him last. Fleck would probably take this opportunity to hold Al hostage. Even worse, he might discover their secret. Bosco was an alchemist; she might put two and two together. Once he figured out what Ed and Al had done, it was game over for them.

God, he never realized just how much trust and faith he put in Mustang. He’d have to make sure to never tell the smug bastard. It’d just make his ego even worse.

Ed ran his fingers over the rough cement, his mind working through the problem, picking at it, trying to find a way out. He couldn’t fight an army of men like this. Furthermore, in a dense city like Central, he didn’t want to fight an army of men. Too many civilians could get hurt. But, he had to get to Al before Fleck did. Would Fleck go to the library now? Or wait?

Something told Ed he’d probably wait. After getting his ass kicked in the phone booth, he’d likely want to make Ed pay and would be hunting him down, convinced that Ed wouldn’t be able to outrun him and hide from his soldiers. Once he realized Ed had, indeed, done that, then he’d likely switch to Plan B and go find Al.

This meant Ed had a narrow window of opportunity to make his move. He’d have to wait at least a few hours. Fleck would start the search near the phone booth and then have his men fan out over the city. They’d be thorough with their investigation, checking every alleyway, store, hotel, and twenty-four-hour café as they made their way to the outskirts.

If Ed assumed they were moving at a relatively quick but thorough pace, maybe four hours before the bulk of the soldiers were far enough away from Central Command for him to sneak back in.

Ah, but if he were Fleck, he’d likely know that Ed was going to be heading back there. As much as he hated to admit it, he had no other choice. He didn’t know anyone else in the city. He was sure Mustang or Hughes would know someplace he could stay for a few hours, but unless they somehow developed long-distance telepathy, Ed wasn’t going to know about those places tonight. Fleck would probably know this and so he’d have soldiers stationed at the dorms, library, Central Command, and maybe even the mess hall or a few warehouses owned by the military.

“So, I can’t walk in through the front door, that’s fine,” Ed muttered.

He could try to go in through a wall, much like how he escaped out of a wall earlier. Sorry Lieutenant Colonel. I’ll fix the hole in your wall later.

No, that likely wouldn’t work. If he were Fleck, he’d have soldiers not just at the doors, but also patrolling the perimeters. He wouldn’t be able to get through a wall unless he timed it just right. But that would involve watching the guards and memorizing their schedules. Believe it or not, Central Command didn’t have a lot of hiding places. Something about how it was a weakness that could give their enemies a strategic advantage.

He could hope for the best-case scenario: that Fleck and Grieves only had Bosco and Harrison working for them. That would dramatically improve his chances of getting back into Central Command as there were only four people. However, he knew better than to assume the best-case scenario. If he assumed there were only four people after him when in fact there was an army, he’d never win. He had to assume hundreds of men were searching for him, looking for him, ordered to kill him on site.

Alright, he couldn’t go through the front door and he couldn’t make his own door. What other way could he get to the library?

He heard the water from the storm running into the gutter, splashing down into the sewer system. An idea popped into his head.

Those storm tunnels were all over the place in Central. He once overheard Hughes complaining about them to Mustang, saying they were a logistical nightmare and basically asking to be used in an invasion. Ed had been down there a few times, chasing rogue alchemists and whatnot. They ran all over the city, often right underneath the streets.

He grinned. That was perfect! He didn’t need to be anywhere near Central Command, he just needed to find an opening, slip into the sewers, and follow them until he was directly under the library. Then, he’d make his own door up, grab Al and come up with their next plan of attack.

It was better than perfect, it was genius!

“And Fleck acts like I have the mental capacity of a toddler,” Ed said.

Alright, his plan was in place.

Step one: Find a pharmacy to get some bandages and disinfectants.

Step two: Bandage up his shoulder.

Step three: Make his way to a sewer opening (he thought there was a decent-sized one on Fourth Street).

Step four: Follow the sewer until he makes it to the library.

Step five: Bust into the library, tell Al what’s going on, then come up with the next plan of attack.

Right. He could do this. He could expose Fleck for the monster he was and get justice for Morgan.

He stood up, his legs stiff and sore from sitting in one position on the cold, hard ground for so long. He estimated he had been here for an hour. If he was correct in his math, he’d have to avoid Fleck and his men for another three before it was safe to move towards Fourth Street. It would be better if he waited to deal with the shoulder, but he had already put it off for too long. It was already infected; he could tell based on the burning. He had to minimize the damage as much as possible until he managed to get himself to a hospital.

He made his way to the wall and opened up a small hole. Peaking out, he couldn’t see any soldiers around. He pulled back and tried to pull up a mental map of the city. He wasn’t familiar with Central. Even after being here for a month, he still had trouble finding his way around. But, in that month he needed quite a lot of pain medication. The prosthetic made his leg hurt and sitting hunched over on the ground and organizing for hours on end gave him tension headaches like he had never gotten before.

Because of this, he knew there was a twenty-four-hour pharmacy nearby. Approximately two blocks from where he was at.

He’d have to move fast and stick to the shadows if he hoped to get there without getting caught. He took a deep breath to steady himself and review the route he was going to take in his head one last time.

Then, when he was ready (he never felt like he was ready), he let the wall crumble, exposing him once more to the street.

He took a quick look around. There were no soldiers out. In fact, no one was out. Good. He didn’t want to constantly be wondering if a random person was, in fact, a soldier trying to kill him.

He stepped out onto the street and made quickly made his way towards his target. His heart was pounding the entire time. His ears strained to hear any sounds that would suggest someone was following him. He heard the sounds of a car driving through a puddle somewhere off in the distance.

He jumped and pressed himself once more into another alleyway, holding his breath as he tried to determine which way the car was going. After a few minutes, he decided if it was coming this way, it would have already passed him. He peaked back out once more, saw there were no soldiers or people, and stepped out into the open.

His head was on a swivel as he looked for any sign that he was being followed. He was not going to have a repeat of the phone booth. He got out of that situation through sheer luck. He knew that if Fleck caught him again, he wouldn’t be so lucky.

Thankfully, the bright lights of the pharmacy were growing ever closer, illuminating the street like a beacon of hope for all those injured and trying to run away from crazy, murderous colonels.

He felt like he could cry when he finally got to it. Finally, something was going his way!

He stepped inside the little bell above the door ringing, echoing through the store.

Ed looked behind him as if the bell was so loud it would summon Fleck to his position instantly.

No soldiers were behind him.

He stepped into the pharmacy.

“Holy shit, kid. Are you alright?”

He looked up to see a middle-aged man behind the counter. His feet were propped up and he was reading a magazine. He was looking at Ed with equal parts concern and trepidation. Not that he could blame him. Ed wasn’t exactly in great shape right now and was only getting rougher by the minute.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Do you have bandages and disinfectant?”

“Yeah… but maybe you should go to the hospital. You don’t look so good. Do your parents know you’re out here?”

“My parents are dead,” Ed snapped. He understood the man was just being a concerned citizen showing empathy to a beaten-up kid who was still bleeding from a shoulder wound all over his floor, the rainwater mixing with it to turn it a light pink. But it was still annoying.

“Oh,” the man stuttered. “Right, um. Sorry about that. The bandages and disinfectant are in aisle six. Call if you need anything? I guess?”

“Thanks.” Ed waved at him dismissively and hobbled his way over to aisle six. He briefly thought about grabbing some more pain medication while he was at it. The shoulder burned, but the ports felt like they were trying to tear out of his skin. Not to mention the headache he was dealing with.

He quickly nixed the idea of pain medication, though. Sometimes it made him sleepy and he couldn’t risk that. He needed to be as alert and on top of his game as possible. He grabbed his supplies and dumped them on the counter.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to call someone?” the cashier asked, eyeing Ed while he scanned his things.

“I’m sure.”

“Alright, then. I guess that’s going to be fifteen twenty-seven.”

Ed dug around in his pockets and threw a couple of soggy bills on the counter. Without waiting for his change, he scooped up the supplies and walked out the door. It was only once he was halfway down the block that he realized maybe he should have had the cashier try to call Mustang again.

Oh well. It was too late for that now. He had to find another place to hole up for the next few hours.

Somewhere in Central, a clock struck eleven. Two more hours. He only had to wait for two more hours.

He managed to find a dumpster not far from the pharmacy. Another quick look around to make sure no one had found him and then he put up another wall, another roof, sat down, and started to take care of his shoulder. The alleyway itself was close enough to Fourth Street so that if he booked it, he could make it to the sewer opening in maybe fifteen minutes. Of course, that was all dependent on whether or not his prosthetic wanted to work with him.

Prosthetics weren’t like automail. They weren’t given to people with the expectation that they would wear them for almost twenty-four hours straight. The more Ed wore it, the more likely he was to injure himself, damage the port, or damage the prosthetic. Once he settled into his makeshift shelter, he debated taking it off to give his leg a break. However, he knew that wasn’t a good idea. If someone found him, he needed to move and move fast. And there was nothing fast about hopping down the street on one leg, trying to keep his balance on the wet and slippery streets. Hell, his attacker might sit there laughing at him, toying with him for several minutes before deciding to finally put Ed out of his misery and shoot him in the head.

Besides, he had bigger things to worry about. Like taking care of his stupid shoulder. He gave up trying to remove his clothes and decided to just rip them off. He’d take care of them later but he was too stiff and tried to remove them properly. Once the wound was exposed, he struggled to pour the disinfectant on it. It would have been easier if he had another person here to help him. As it was, he was forced to contort his body so he could reach it. The act itself caused white-hot pain to shoot throughout his upper back and chest. He nearly blacked out it hurt so much. To make matters worse, the bullet was still in there. He could feel it grinding against the metal, bone, skin, fat, and muscle in the area. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry.

He bit his tongue and poured the disinfectant on it. He knew it would burn. He was pouring alcohol straight on an open wound. He was not prepared for how badly it hurt. He bit his tongue until it bled, afraid that if he made so much as a peep Fleck would find him and kill him. At one point, he was afraid he’d bite his tongue clean off.

The disinfectant splashed everywhere, burning cuts on his body he didn’t even know he had. He kept pouring though, kept his hand as steady as possible to get as much as possible on the wound. It hurt. It hurt so fucking badly. He wanted this night to be over with. He wanted to be back with his brother, in warm clothes in a warm bed where Fleck wasn’t an issue. Where Morgan was still alive. When the biggest worry Ed had to deal with was how many wrenches Winry would throw at him for messing up his automail.

He kept pouring. He kept pouring until the bottle ran empty, though it took him a few seconds to realize it was done as the burning and pain made it difficult to focus on much else. He threw the bottle as hard as he could against the opposite wall, feeling a sick sense of relief and satisfaction as it bounced off and skittered into a dark corner. He wanted to take a few minutes to regain his breath and wipe away the tears that had once more streaked down his face without his permission.

He knew he couldn’t. The shoulder wound was already infected. He needed to bandage it now if he had any hopes of keeping the damage to a minimum. If he thought pouring the disinfectant on the wound was hard, it was nothing compared to trying to bandage the stupid thing. Even if he wasn’t injured, with only one hand he was forced to use his teeth to try and keep it in place. Once more, every movement, every contortion of his body in a pathetic attempt to bandage it properly only served to aggravate the injury more. Everything hurt. Everything was on fire. He wondered if he was irreparably damaging his bones and muscles by doing this. He wondered if he would need another automail surgery to deal with the damage. He couldn’t bring himself to care.

Finally, the wound was bandaged and he collapsed back against the wall, his shirt torn open and his jacket in shreds. He was breathing heavily and still crying. At this point, he didn’t know if it was from the pain, the trauma, or the frustration. He had a feeling it was likely all of the above.

Two more hours. He just had to stay put for two more hours. He shivered and pressed back against the wall. The shelter was doing a decent job of keeping the rain and wind off of him, but the ground was still cold and wet. His clothes were still cold and wet.

“Just two more hours. Then I get to see Al,” he mumbled.

His eyes began to droop. He felt himself leaning more and more on the wall, his body begging to just lie down. Just for a minute. A minute wouldn’t hurt. He deserved to rest for a minute. Each time he started to drift off, he’d jerk awake, stand up, even though the pressure on his prosthetic was beginning to be unbearable, and shake off his exhaustion.

The clock struck midnight.

One more hour to go.

The small rocks and rough texture of the asphalt pressed into his body. At first, it wasn’t so bad. It was a little uncomfortable but not awful. Soon, though, it began to get worse and worse. The slight pressure of the sharp rocks began digging deeper and harder. He could feel every little irregularity on the ground. At one point, he wondered if he was sitting on broken glass. It felt like his skin had been split open. Even though his pants weren’t ripped, he could begin to feel blood seep out of the small cuts. He tried to shift, tried to find one spot in this alleyway that had a smooth surface he could sit on, but there were none. He thought about using his alchemy to make the surface smooth, but in his exhaustion, he couldn’t even begin to think of the equation that would make that work. So, he sat there and let the rocks dig into him. At least the pain was helping him stay awake.

He used this time to brainstorm what he and Al could do once they met up. Al would be in a better position to make plans. Still, Ed wanted to be as helpful as possible. He knew that both Mustang and Hughes trusted Major Armstrong. If they could just get in contact with him, then maybe he could help. Ed didn’t have his number, but it had to be somewhere, right? The records room had an entire section on personnel in the military, including their contact information. He and Al could break into the room (at this point it was becoming Ed’s go-to plan) and find his information. Then, they could call Armstrong, let him know what was going on, and hang out in his office until he showed up and kicked some ass. Or ripped off his shirt. Either way, once Armstrong showed up, it wouldn’t be Ed’s problem anymore.

In the dim yellow light of the streetlamps, Ed studied his hand. The alchemical equations for concrete and metal were still there from when Al had drawn them yesterday. That was a miracle, considering how much rain and blood Ed had gotten all over himself. Knowing this comforted him greatly. He wasn’t defenseless. He wasn’t useless. Fleck made a mistake in underestimating him and he would make sure he regretted it.

The clock struck one. Time to go.

He stood up. Blood rushed to parts of his body that had previously been asleep due to his position. He hadn’t even realized he had been sitting for so long. He cried out and fell forward. Fuck, it felt like his entire leg was on fire. He wouldn’t be surprised if wearing the prosthetic for so long and being so rough on it had caused an injury to the flesh in some way. If that was the case, it was also likely to be infected. Great, just what he needed. He struggled to his feet, only to have his numb leg give out from underneath him. Maybe he had pushed himself too hard. Maybe he wasn’t strong enough to get to the Fourth Street sewer opening. Maybe his body had finally had enough and was giving up on him.

No, he could still do this. He wasn’t useless. He wasn’t weak. Fleck underestimated him. He would come to regret it. He had to make him regret it. He stood up once more, using the wall to balance him. Once he felt more secure, he took a shaky step forward. And then another, and then another.

Okay, he probably should have left a little earlier, if it was going to take him this long to get out of the alleyway. He still couldn’t feel his stupid limbs. Then again, they were so cold, wet, and numb he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to feel them again. It was a miracle he hadn’t gotten hypothermia tonight. Or… maybe he did have it but was so far gone he couldn’t tell that he had it?

Whatever, it wasn’t like he was going to spend much more time outside. He just had a quick, fifteen-minute walk to the opening of the sewers and then he could let Al and Armstrong deal with Fleck.

He made it to his wall and peaked out onto the street. None of Fleck’s men were here. He let himself feel relief at that. Hey, sometimes it was good to celebrate the small wins. He let the wall crumble and started walking.

Walking may have been a generous term. He always had to limp with the prosthetic because he couldn’t bend his knee. Now, though, it had gotten even worse. He kept his head down and focused on putting one leg in front of the other. He let himself focus on nothing else but getting to the sewer opening. He let the pain, the feeling of a bullet in his shoulder, become nothing but background noise. He was on a mission now. He had a small window of time before Fleck’s men gave up and made their way back to Central Command to start their search again. He had to get to Al. He couldn’t let Morgan die in vain. He needed Armstrong to help him.

He wasn’t weak. He wasn’t useless. He would make Fleck regret underestimating him.

After about twenty minutes, he finally made it to the large tunnels that functioned as storm sewers.

“Lieutenants Colonel Hughes was right,” Ed said to himself as he worked his way down, “these are a huge risk to have. You could have a whole army use them.”

Once he had both feet on the ground, he started heading towards Central Command. More than once, he thought he heard something in the shadows watching him. Perhaps a flash of red eyes on the ceiling, or the sounds of claws scraping against the walls. Each time, he turned around, straining his ears and eyes to see if Fleck had found him.

“It’s just the rats. There’s probably a ton of them down here,” Ed said, gritting his teeth and moving forward. Or maybe he was so exhausted he was starting to hallucinate. It wouldn’t put it past himself. Though, usually, when he hallucinated it was of Mom after they had failed to bring her back.

He kept moving forward, kept working his way towards the library. He was almost there. Maybe about another fifteen minutes.

He felt the bullet rip through his shoulder (again, the right one because Truth hated him and wanted to see him suffer as much as possible) and the sound of it echo around the walls. He let out a cry and fell into the water, just barely keeping his hand up to avoid it getting wet. He slammed it against the wall, even though it jarred the bullet wound. His alchemy crackled to life and sent spikes hurtling towards the direction the bullet had come from. He heard what sounded like Bosco cry out as she was hit. He didn’t take time to admire his handy work, though, and instead sprinted through the tunnels as fast as he could.

No, no, no! He was so close! He had to get to Al. They had to contact Major Armstrong! He couldn’t have been cornered now!

“Get back here you brat!” Harrison shouted.

Ed transmuted the concrete again to trap him, pinning him to the wall so that he couldn’t hope to escape. He continued to run through the tunnels. Though, he could still hear someone behind him, running after him, gaining on him.

In a panic, he slammed his hand on the wall again and warped it to launch him forward. Normally, such a move would help him gain several yards and momentum. This wasn’t a normal situation though and when he landed back on the ground, his prosthetic decided it had finally had enough and buckled under the pressure. The entire thing shattered and it sent Ed sprawling to the ground, skittering into the water on either side. This time, he couldn’t keep his hand above water and he sank completely into the icy waters. He thought he might drown. It wasn’t like he could swim like this. Except, someone grabbed his head and yanked him back up. His eyes watered as his hair was ripped from his skull and he was thrown into the wall.

“You insolent little piece of shit,” Fleck said. He was standing above him, eyes blazing, veins throbbing, face red. “I’m so glad the pharmacist called the MPs to report an injured child wandering around. I’m not sure we would have found you otherwise.”

No. Ed was so close. He was so close to getting help! This couldn’t be happening now. He tried to activate his alchemy, but nothing happened. He looked down and nearly cried when he saw the circle had been almost entirely washed away. There were just ugly black streaks left.

“Oh well. It was a valiant effort. Truly, I applaud you. But I’m done dealing with you, boy.”

He didn’t have time to say something snarky back (which at this point was his only weapon) because Fleck slammed his foot into the side of Ed’s head, snapping it to the side.

“You were only supposed to file. You weren’t supposed to be doing anything else!” He picked Ed up by his collar and punched him over and over and over again. Ed felt his nose break and a tooth come loose.

He somehow managed to get his knee up and slammed it into Fleck’s stomach. The man dropped him with a yowl. Ed started crawling towards the wall. He was down two limbs and couldn’t run, but maybe with his blood, he could do a transmutation circle? He had to try. He wasn’t going down without a fight.

He started sketching the circle on the ground, not caring if it was perfect, it just had to be done fast. Except, he wasn’t fast enough and Fleck stomped on his hand, driving his heal through it. Ed cried out as he felt the bones crunch and break under the pressure. Fleck then picked him up and threw him once more into the wall.

“You got in the way! You ruined my plan! Even though you’re fucking weak and useless!” He probably broke a few of Ed’s ribs, the way he was hitting him. He wouldn’t be surprised.

Finally, Fleck stopped trying to beat him to death, allowing Ed to use his last, remaining weapon.

“Not so useless since I avoided you for eight hours and, by the sounds of it, took out Bosco and Harrison.” He grinned, knowing it’d just piss him off more. At the moment, though, he didn’t care. He more wanted to see how red he could make this bastard’s face.

Sure enough, it got even redder. He let out a roar and threw Ed once more into the water. This time, though, he held his hand on Ed’s head and forced him to stay under. He screamed and kicked and clawed the best he could with his broken body. It probably didn’t do anything. It certainly didn’t make Fleck stop trying to drown him.

Then, Ed’s head was yanked above the water. He took a few gasping breaths, worried Fleck would shove him under once more until he was dead. But Fleck didn’t. Instead, he chucked him once more onto the floor.

“Do you know how hard it’s going to be to cover up your death? Morgan can disappear without a fucking trace. No one cares about him. But you, you are the Fullmetal Alchemist. And your superior officer is not going to take your disappearance or death at face value.”

“Then don’t kill me,” Ed wheezed, not sure if it was supposed to be sarcasm or begging.

Fleck wrapped his hands around Ed’s throat and started to squeeze, not enough to fully cut off his air supply, but enough that it hurt. He twisted his head, trying to throw off Fleck’s hands. It was during this twisting and thrashing that he saw it. His way out.

“Don’t you worry. I’ll think of something. With the amount of trouble you get yourself into, maybe I’ll say you went after Morgan yourself and he got the better of you.”

“Better think of it quick because Mustang is pissed,” Ed said, grinning up at him while blood, water, and snot ran down his face. It was almost over. This nightmare of a night was almost over.

“He will be.”

“No, he is.”

“How do you know?”

“I told you, I called him. He knows you’re after me.”

Fleck squeezed hard. Ed coughed and resumed trying to yank the man’s hand off him.

“And I told you I didn’t believe you. You and I both know you weren’t fast enough to call him, not like this.”

“And yet, I did. And he’s pissed.”

“How do you know that?”

Finally, everything was in place, ready to be put into action. Ed grinned at him. “Cause he’s standing right behind you.”

The speed at which Fleck’s face went from red to white was truly amazing. If Ed didn’t hate his guts so much, he might have been more than a little concerned for the man’s health. As it was, he didn’t care.

What was even more amazing was watching as Mustang grabbed ahold of his shoulder and ripped him away from Ed. He definitely went overkill on the strength because Fleck went flying into the wall, slamming against it. He didn’t even have time to scramble to his knees as Mustang was on him once more, slamming his fist into his face so hard, Ed swore his skull caved in on impact. He watched in mild, detached amusement as blood spurted out of the man’s nose and he stumbled back. Then, Mustang raised his hand and snapped.

The light from the fire alone was enough to make Ed slam his eyes shut before it burned his retinas. But the light was nothing compared to the intense heat that seemed to fill the entire sewer system. Hotter than anything he had felt before. It felt like his own skin was blistering off his face. He wondered if Fleck would be able to survive such an attack.

Finally, the heat died down and Ed opened his eyes to see a very much on fire Fleck fall into the water. He didn’t stay under for very long before Hawkeye, Havoc, and Breda appeared like vengeful spirits. Before he could comprehend what was going on, Hawkeye fired two rounds at Fleck’s thrashing body before Havoc dove in and dragged him out of the water. He wasn’t as… crispy as Ed thought he would be, but his skin was blistered from Mustang’s attack. He was dropped unceremoniously onto the ground, moaning and crying in pain.

“Oh, shut up,” Breda hissed.

Shit, Ed didn’t think he had ever heard him sound this mad before. Now that he thought about it, Havoc, Hawkeye, and Mustang all looked like they were ready to murder someone. He wondered why that was. Maybe they were just grumpy. It was like one in the morning, after all. And to get here this quickly they had to have taken the night train from East City. From experience, Ed knew that it was difficult to sleep on a train.

“Fullmetal,” Mustang was in front of him, a hand on his uninjured shoulder, blocking his view of what was happening to Fleck. “Fullmetal, how injured are you? Are you okay?”

He opened his mouth, ready to tell Mustang that he was fine and he just needed to sleep it off. He let out a choked sound. He couldn’t get the words to come out of his mouth. No. No, he wasn’t okay. Everything hurt. He was cold. He was tired. He was hungry. He could now feel two bullets in his shoulder. He had watched a man get beaten to death and sat back and did nothing proving that Mustang was wrong (like usual) and everyone else was right. He was weak. He was useless. He let an innocent person die.

“They killed him,” he managed to finally choke out. “They killed him and I didn’t do anything. I just watched.”

Mustang looked confused. “What? Who died?”

“Morgan!” Ed cried out, hysterical. They had to know. They had to know that he was good. He wasn’t a spy. He wasn’t trying to hurt anyone. Hughes was looking into the wrong person. “They killed Morgan. They… they…”

He felt like he was going to be sick.

Mustang looked even more confused. “Morgan’s not dead. He’s alive. He’ll be fine.”

Fuck, why was he lying to him? “Yes, he is, I saw him! His blood got all over me!” Ed shouted. His vision was going fuzzy and he couldn’t breathe. His head was spinning and everything hurt.

“How did you…” Mustang cut himself off.

Ed thought he heard Hawkeye say something, but he couldn’t hear her voice. Everything sounded like it was underwater. Maybe he was underwater. Maybe Fleck was still holding him down as he thrashed about, trying to throw him off. Maybe this was one last hallucination before he finally died.

“Okay,” Mustang said gently. “Okay, let’s get you out of here. You’re okay. Everything’s going to be fine now.”

But nothing was okay. Nothing would ever be okay. Just as he was about to argue this very point with Mustang, his body finally decided it had had enough and his vision finally went back.

Chapter Text

It had been a long day at the office. Mustang had been hoping that Edward Elric, down two limbs, out of commission, and someone else’s problem for the month, would mean that his workload would decrease somewhat. He would be mistaken. Instead, it seemed like there was an endless parade of forms to sign, paperwork to fill out, people to call, investigations to take place, and little menial tasks he had to do. At one point, he was convinced other colonels at Eastern Command were secretly slipping their own forms in with his and hoping he didn’t notice. Hell, half of what he filled out he was certain he had never seen before. It was only when Falman (damn him) assured him that, yes, they had worked on this project before, that he finally relented. After all, this meant he couldn’t try and slip it back to whatever officer had tried to force it on him in the first place.

Then, on top of all the paperwork, Hughes was acting shifty. The last time he called, he seemed distracted. At first, Mustang put it down to him getting ready to go out of town. But something was off about him. And that made him nervous. Because, if Hughes was up to something, that meant Edward Elric was definitely up to something. And as much as Mustang believed in his ability to come out on top, he knew right now Ed was not mentally or physically ready for a fight.

He couldn’t get anything out of Hughes, though, and couldn’t get ahold of him after he went to visit Garcia’s parents. Mustang tried to convince himself that if it was important, and if it did have something to do with Ed, Hughes would have told him. After all, Hughes knew how he felt about the kids. He knew he worried about the kids. This meant that if Hughes didn’t tell him, then he obviously didn’t need to worry.

He still worried.

Finally, he couldn’t pretend any longer and ended up calling Al. Surprisingly, Al also seemed convinced that Ed wasn’t up to anything. He mentioned how he was getting better at using the prosthetics and was getting along with the other lieutenants and Colonel Fleck. Unlike with Hughes, Mustang could find no hint of deception or distraction in Al’s voice. Given what he knew about the brothers, Ed was unlikely to keep something from Al only to tell someone else, even if that other person was Hughes. Because of this, he was forced to begrudgingly accept that Hughes wasn’t keeping anything from him when it came to Ed and he was just having an off couple of days.

He still worried.

He couldn’t help it. And, as he trudged home after a very long day at the office (after nine by this point), the worry he had concerning Edward Elric was replaced by a deep-seated need to just collapse face-first onto the first vaguely horizontal surface he could find and sleep.

Of course, the universe was never one to give Colonel Roy Mustang what he wanted.

As soon as he stepped through the door, his phone started to ring.

“Oh, come on!” he whined, not caring that he sounded more like a petulant child and less like a man who would one day run this country and pay for his sins.

The phone rang again. He glared at it. Whoever was on the other end better be ready to get a piece of his mind. Proper phone etiquette dictated that no one should call after nine PM. Unless it was an emergency.

Dammit. It was probably something important. It could be his aunt with important information. It could be Hughes finally ready to spill the beans on whatever he had been distracted by when he last called. He was supposed to get back sometime tonight, after all. It could be Hawkeye, calling to remind him of all the paperwork he had yet to do. Or it could be Central, calling to tell him that Ed had gone rogue, burned Central Command to the ground, joined Scar, and was now attempting to overthrow the government.

“I’m the only one who gets to overthrow the government, you brat,” he mumbled as he trudged over to the phone. “If you ask politely, though, I might just let you land a punch or two.”

He picked up the phone. Before he could get a word out, he heard someone on the other end.

Okay, yes, that was more or less how phones worked. But this was different. The person on the other end of the phone made his blood run cold.

“Major Elric, what on Earth are you doing out here at this time of night?” It was Fleck. His voice was softer. He could barely hear it over the tapping of the rain on the other end.

He also could barely hear it over the sounds of someone breathing heavily into the receiver. Fleck wasn’t on the phone. He had said ‘Major Elric’.

His heart may have stopped beating when he realized this.

Ed? Please, don’t tell me what I think is happening, is happening. He squeezed his eyes shut and remained silent. He wanted to start barking orders. He wanted to demand answers and demand Ed tell him what the hell Ed was doing on the phone this late at night with Fleck next to him. His gut told him to stay quiet. Stay still. Don’t even breathe. He didn’t know much about the situation, but from the way Ed was breathing to the way Fleck spoke, he knew that Ed was in trouble.

Ed was in trouble, and all Mustang could do was sit on the phone in silence and hope the kid managed to give him something to work with.

“Um…” Ed sucked in a breath. “I’m off the clock now, sir. Am I not allowed to use the phone?”

There it was. A slight hitch in his breath; the slight tremor in his voice. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong and Mustang couldn’t ask what it was. Ed was scared of Fleck.

Oh, God.

Mustang’s heart plummeted to the floor.

Ed was scared.

That did not happen. That could not happen. Because, if Edward Elric, a kid who regularly laughed in the face of danger and had no concept of personal safety, was scared, that meant Mustang needed to be by his side immediately so he could burn away the threat. Because Edward Elric was not meant to be scared. He couldn’t be.

Something must have happened because Mustang heard some muffled shifting. He snapped his attention back to the conversation at hand. He couldn’t allow himself to get distracted now. Ed needed his help. He didn’t know what help he could give him but sitting there panicking wasn’t the answer.

“You are, I suppose,” Fleck said. He was louder now. He was closer to Ed.

Mustang felt a surge of rage coarse through his body. The shuffling was him stepping into Ed’s space. Getting closer to him. The kid was very protective of his personal space. And Fleck, while not a tall man, was still taller than Ed. He could picture it now; him towering over Ed, crowding him, making him feel smaller than he already was. Mustang’s knuckles were white with how hard he was clenching his fist.

“It’s just dangerous out here, so late at night.” The way he was speaking to Ed made his skin crawl. He was practically cooing.

“Scar is still running around. Hunting alchemists.” He could hear the predatory grin in his voice. “And you’re not exactly in fighting shape, major.”

A threat. A very clear threat. He allowed himself to briefly picture putting his clenched fist through Fleck’s skull. His other hand gripped the phone so tightly, he feared he might break it. It was unlikely. He wasn’t that strong. He still forced his hand to relax. He had to stay calm. He had to stay focused. Besides, Fleck was right, as much as he hated to admit it. Down and arm and a leg meant Ed couldn’t fight like normal.

He heard the sounds of the rain pick it.

It hit him then what was going on. He could hear the rain. He could hear the rain through the phone. It seemed to surround him, tapping on the glass from all sides. Ed wasn’t calling from inside Central Command. He was calling from a phone booth. Fleck had cornered him in a small, cramped phone booth. If it was the phone booth nearest to Central, it was in a park. The park itself was likely to be empty this time of night. That meant Fleck could do whatever he wanted to Ed and no one would be around. The only witness was himself, and by the time he got to Central, even if he left immediately, it would be too late.

He felt sick as unwanted images of everything that could happen to a young boy at night who was alone with a man filled his head.

There was nothing in Fleck’s file to suggest he was particularly sadistic. But Mustang knew better than to trust the official files. So long as Fleck didn’t pull a Kimblee, the military was willing to look the other way concerning a lot of crimes.

He clapped a hand over his mouth to keep himself from gasping.

Oh, God.

Oh, God. This was his worst nightmare. Ed could be tortured, dismembered, raped, murdered. He couldn’t do anything to help him. If he stayed on the phone, he might be forced to listen as Ed was slowly murdered because who the hell knows what Fleck was after. Who knows why Ed was so scared of him or how they got to this point. The only thing that he could say for sure was that Fleck was toying with him and Ed had called him, him probably in a desperate attempt to get some help, and Mustang could do nothing. He was tempted to slam the phone down on the hook, hang it up so that he didn’t have to listen to Ed’s final moments. And why shouldn’t he? There was nothing he could do now. Ed was on his own.

He was fucking useless right now. The goddamn Hero of Ishval, the Commander of Hellfire, the Genocidal Alchemist, the devil, a monster, a horrific creature that would char your flesh and enjoy every second of it, and he was stuck on the other end of a fucking phone listening to a cornered, desperate, terrified child try to keep himself alive.

No!

No! Panicking wasn’t going to help anyone. Ed wasn’t dead yet. As far as he could tell, Fleck hadn’t hurt him yet. Mustang had to keep himself under control. Ed needed him. He needed him to be clear-headed and not panicking. He needed to stay on the line and try and figure out what Fleck wanted and why he was so concerned with Ed. Besides, just because Ed was down a few limbs didn’t mean he was incapable. Yes, he was weakened by this, but he wasn’t useless. He may not be able to fight, but Edward Elric was more than just a fighter. He was a brilliant strategist and knew how to get himself out of tight situations. Mustang wouldn’t be surprised if he was trying to figure a way out right now.

No, he couldn’t count Ed out of the fight until he saw with his own eyes the body of the kid. And, if he had anything to do with it, there would be no body (except for Fleck’s). He just had to figure out what was going on.

“I need to call my automail mechanic,” Ed said, sounding less scared than before. It still sounded like an obvious lie to Mustang’s ears. He hoped that was just because he knew Ed better and Fleck wouldn’t be able to pick up on it.

“At this time of night?” Damn, it didn’t sound like Fleck believed him. He was still toying with him.

“She’s a bit of a night owl.” He let out a tense and forced laugh. “Trust me, colonel, I have better luck calling her now than during the day.”

Come on, kid. Give me something more to work with. Why is he after you? What did he do?

“Then why didn’t you use the phones at the dorms? There’s no need for you to be all the way out here. And your brother is still at the library. I thought you would have gone straight to him after work.”

It was a clear threat towards Al. Fleck was telling Ed that he knew where his brother was and he had been watching him. The way he so casually said it made Mustang’s blood boil. It also made him slightly worried. Not for Al’s sake. The kid could still fight if he needed to. But if there was one thing that would get Ed to lose his head and act without thinking, it was Al. Maybe that’s why Fleck said it. He was hoping Ed would lose his cool, slip up, and give him a reason to attack.

Don’t fall for it. You’re doing great. Just keep him talking until you have an opening to get out of there. He knew Ed couldn’t hear him. Hell, he didn’t even know if the kid knew he was on the other end. He liked to pretend that Ed felt his presence and knew him well enough to know what he was thinking. And take his advice. As much as they liked to bicker and argue, he knew that Ed did see him as someone whose advice was sound.

“Resembool’s phones are on an older set of phone lines. Sargent Master Fuery explained it to me once.”

“Master Sargent Fuery, major. Please get the ranks of your colleagues correct,” Fleck said sweetly.

Well you’re getting multiple punches to the face when this is all over. Mustang rolled his eyes. I’ll have to make sure Fuery gets in a few hits as well.

“Right, sorry about that. Anyways, he explained it to me once after I complained I had so much trouble getting in touch with her on military line,” Ed said quickly. He didn’t seem to be rising to Fleck’s bait and still seemed to be at least somewhat in control of himself.

That was a relief.

At least, it was until Mustang heard Fleck laughing; loud enough to echo throughout the phonebooth. The slow trickle of relief that had started to build with Ed’s confidence was wiped out in an instant. Mustang didn’t know if Ed could tell, but he definitely could. Fleck was done playing games with him. He was done toying with him. Whatever he was planning to do to Ed, he was going to do soon. He had to get out of there.

Should he speak? Should he let Ed know? He still wasn’t sure if Ed knew he was on the other end of the line. If he did speak and he didn’t know, it might startle him enough to give Fleck the opening he needed to attack. If he didn’t speak, though, Ed might not know Fleck was getting ready to pounce.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Why were there no good options? Why couldn’t Ed have kept himself from getting into trouble just once? Why couldn’t Mustang do anything but listen on the phone and hope the kid had a plan?

“You know, major, you left something in the archives.” Fleck’s laughter quieted.

He heard Ed swallow. “Did I?”

Shit. This was bad. This was really bad. He needed to get Ed out of there. The kid needed help. Immediate help.

Think, Mustang, think. Hughes isn’t in Central right now to try and get to him. I know that because the first person Ed would have gone to if he was in trouble would be Hughes. Maybe Armstrong and his lieutenants?

It was better than nothing, but Ed didn’t know where Armstrong lived and Fleck wasn’t likely to sit there patiently while Mustang gave directions over the phone. Besides, it was too difficult to get there on foot. Even if Ed was more comfortable with his prosthetics now, there was no way he’d make the journey.

Maybe Aunt Chris? Shit, he doesn’t know where she’s at either. Shit! Why didn’t I think to brief him of where all the safehouses in Central were?

Because he had naively hoped Ed wouldn’t get into any trouble. He had thought that if he didn’t give Ed the information, then he wouldn’t go looking for trouble. But that was the worst thing he could have done. He knew Ed and Al. He knew they liked to help people and investigate. He should have known better than to keep them in the dark with a naïve hope that not talking about it would somehow make this exact situation not happen.

Shit. He was starting to panic again, and his thoughts were swirling with useless ideas that he and Ed couldn’t possibly do. He had to think! He had to come up with something.

“You know,” Fleck continued, “this wasn’t there when I locked up the records room. But, when I came back down to look for a file, there it was. Sitting out as clear as day.”

Fuck! Mustang had never felt so useless and so in the dark before. What did he find? Why was it connected to Ed? What was happening?

“We still haven’t figured out what Morgan was up to, but something tells me that you might be involved as well.”

Mustang’s heart clenched when he heard Ed whimper, quiet enough that he was unsure if Fleck heard it as well. Whatever confidence Ed had gotten previously was quickly flagging. He was once more becoming a scared child with no hopes of winning against the monster that cornered him.

No, don’t let him get to you. You have to keep your head, Fullmetal. If you start losing it, you won’t survive. He wasn’t sure he could handle the guilt of another child’s blood on his hands. God, Ed was so young.

He forced himself to focus on what Fleck had said, pulling himself away from the very real possibility that he was listening to Ed’s final moments. Because Fleck mentioned Morgan. Morgan? As in, Lieutenant Morgan who volunteered to reorganize the archives? What the hell did he have to do with anything? Why was his name enough to make Ed whimper? As far as Mustang was aware, Fleck was currently the only one threatening Ed and Al.

“I wonder if you’re a spy as well?”

Wait, what? That was a fucking plot twist. Morgan was a spy? But Ed was threatening Ed and saying that he might also be a spy? If Mustang wasn’t convinced Ed was about to be tortured and murdered while he sat on the phone listening, he’d allow himself to feel very confused as to what he was listening to.

“Are you worried that Morgan is stealing the information you’re after? There are rumors your CO is a spy for Xing.”

At this, Mustang rolled his eyes. That rumor had been swirling around for years. It was made all the more hilarious by the fact that he couldn’t read, write, or speak Xingese. Seriously, several people tried to give him tasks that required him to know Xingese, thinking he was lying about his fluency because he was lazy. They would then be surprised and furious when Mustang handed the files over to blond-haired, blue-eyed Havoc, who was right next to him, did, in fact, speak better Xingese.

“Personally,” Fleck continued, “I never thought that moronic, womanizing boy was capable of spying, but now that you’re here… I wonder if he thought I wouldn’t suspect a crippled child of stealing such sensitive information.”

Anger flared in Mustang’s gut once more. It was one thing to threaten Ed. Hell, it was practically a daily occurrence by various criminals and enemies at this point. Shit, he threatened Ed at least twice a day when he was forced to spend time with the kid! And it was another thing to insult him. He had been called every name and slur in the book since day one of his military career.

It was another thing entirely for Fleck to use such a dehumanizing, horrific, appalling word to describe the kid. Oh, Fleck was going to get a lot more than a punch to the face when Mustang found his smug ass. Every letter of that word was going to translate to one snap of his fingers. And he’d tell the others what he had said as well. If Mustang was considered a tad overprotective of the Elrics, don’t get him started on the rest of the team. The use of that word alone would guarantee Fleck wasn’t walking away without at least fifteen critical injuries. And if Al ever found out. Well, Mustang wasn’t even going to ask God to help Fleck’s soul. He deserved everything that was coming to him and more.

“And I don’t buy your story that you were merely down in the records room because you forgot your coat.”

Mustang forced himself to breathe slowly through his nostrils. He was shaking at this point. His entire body was tense with the desire to just hurt this man. Hurt him so badly he never thought about threatening or dehumanizing Ed ever again. By the time he was through with him, Fleck would beg for death because he’d make Hell look mild in comparison.

“No,” Ed whimpered again.

Right, he couldn’t let his anger get the best of him. It was hypocritical, really; him telling Ed not to lose his head and rise to the bait when he was doing the exact thing. No matter how angry he was, no matter how much he looked forward to punishing Fleck, he still couldn’t ignore the fact that there was a scared child on the other end of this line. A child who had called him with the hope that he could help somehow. No matter what happened, Mustang had to keep that in the forefront of his mind. His anger and desires were secondary to what Ed needed right now.

“I think that’s exactly what happened. Awfully convenient of you to find Morgan when I’ve been working with him for months without incident.”

Come on, Mustang, think. There has to be something I can do!

“And I know Lieutenant Colonel Hughes is very loyal to Colonel Mustang. I wonder if he’s in on the plot as well.”

Oh, good. Now he was threatening Hughes. It was like Fleck was trying to do everything in his power to tick off every one of Mustang’s boxes that would cause him to throw his ambitions away and go on a rampage. Maybe that was his plan all along.

“His lovely wife might also be a suspect.”

Great. Just great. He was threatening Garcia now. Forget Mustang and his team, as soon as Hughes found out about this, Mustang might be the one holding him back.

“It’d be such a shame to have to interrogate her. Do you know how we interrogate suspected spies in this country, major? Regardless of if she’s a spy or not, she’ll still come out of the experience down a husband… and a few fingers.”

You know what, screw holding Hughes back. They were all going to get in on this. He’d tell the Fuhrer it was a team bonding exercise. And then he’d string up Fleck’s mutilated corpse so that everyone could see what happens when people threaten the people he loves.

“I lied!” Ed blurted out.

This started Mustang and snapped him out of his homicidal musings. Fleck also seemed taken aback by the outburst as he stopped his little villain monologue and string of threats.

“I wasn’t calling my mechanic,” Ed said. Mustang recognized that tone of voice. He had a plan.

He almost laughed. Edward Elric had a plan. Thank god. Fleck hadn’t crushed his spirit with his threats. He was still the fighter Mustang knew.

“I was calling Colonel Mustang. He’s on the phone now, if you’d like to talk to him.”

Mustang blinked several times. Fucking plot twist part two. That was Ed’s plan? Get Fleck to talk to him? What the hell was this kid thinking? Granted, it wasn’t like he had given himself a disadvantage by revealing Mustang was on the other end of the phone. But he sure as hell hadn’t given himself an advantage either. Hold on, did Ed know he was on the other end of the phone? Or was he bluffing his ass off? True, Mustang was actually on the phone, but if Fleck decided to call his bluff and take the phone, how should he react? What was Ed’s plan here? What would he even say if he did decide to talk to Fleck?

He heard Fleck laughing once more. “Do you really expect me to believe that? Mustang won’t be in his office this late at night. Nice try, boy.”

Once more, Mustang felt himself bristling at the names Fleck was calling Ed. Yes, he was technically a boy, much more so than himself, but there was something so dismissive about the way he said that, the way he talked to him. He thought he was above Ed. He thought he was better than him.

“But,” he continued, “how about you quit stalling and come with me. I’m sure if you cooperate people will see you’re just a pawn in Mustang’s game. It’s to be expected, after all. As you are, it’s no wonder you were so easy for Mustang to manipulate.”

How dare he suggest that Ed was easy to manipulate; that the lack of an arm and a leg meant people could take advantage of him. How dare he suggest that one of the brightest minds Mustang had ever come into contact with could be controlled by him.

“They’ll be lenient on you. You and your brother probably won’t have to face the firing squad. What do you say?”

I say if you even attempt to put him in front of a firing squad, you’ll get a first-hand experience as to why I was called the Commander of Hellfire.

His knuckles were white. Both hands clenched so hard, he might tear through his gloves and break the phone. But he didn’t care. He was going to find Fleck and he was going to murder him for what he was doing to Ed; for what he was saying to him. Oh, sure, it sounded like he hadn’t hurt him. But physical injuries weren’t the only things he needed to be worried about. He had spent this entire conversation dehumanizing him, mentally torturing him, putting thoughts and images into his head that no child should ever have to think about. Even if Ed didn’t have a scratch on him when Mustang got to Central, that alone would warrant a good burning.

Apparently, Ed had a very similar idea.

“Go to hell,” he growled.

Fucking plot twist number three: Apparently, even when cornered, down two limbs, and terrified out of his goddamn mind after listening to an insane psychopath threaten to put his brother in front of a firing squad and cut off Garcia’s fingers, even after all of that, Ed was still a fighter.

Mustang wasn’t exactly sure what happened, but he did hear Fleck scream, howling in pain. The phone smacked against something in the booth, likely dropped by Ed.

“You get back here!” he screamed. “I’m going to kill you!”

That’s my boy, Mustang thought smugly, though, that only lasted a few seconds. Fleck wasn’t done giving orders.

“Bosco, Harrison, take him out!”

Once more, ice flooded Mustang’s veins as he heard several shots being fired.

No. He was so close. No… he couldn’t… God, what was he going to tell Al?

He sank to his knees, the phone still pressed to his ear as the reality of the situation started to sink in. This couldn’t be happening. Ed couldn’t be… He couldn’t even say it. There was no way. It wasn’t a possibility. Edward Elric was not supposed to die like this! He wasn’t supposed to before Mustang did. That was… that was how this worked. He was supposed to live and get his brother’s body back and then return to Resembool where he spent the rest of his life living a quiet and peaceful life. This… this didn’t happen.

“What the fuck happened?” Fleck screeched. His voice was barely keeping Mustang grounded at the moment.

“He used alchemy!”

“He only has one arm!”

“Yeah, well, he still managed to figure it out.”

“Then find him! If he tells someone about Morgan, we’re through!”

His words snapped Mustang out of his panic. They… they hadn’t managed to kill him. He had gotten away.

Mustang ran a hand down his face and stood up, his legs shaking. He quietly put the phone down on the hook before Fleck could pick it up and find out he had been listening in this entire time.

“Thank god,” he whispered. “Oh, thank god.”

He wanted to sit there for a bit longer and let his emotions stabilize. He had just been through an emotional rollercoaster and wasn’t entirely stable at the moment. The grief that had shot through him the moment he heard those gunshots was still radiating through his body. He still felt like he might break down sobbing.

He still couldn’t believe that Ed had managed to get himself out of that situation.

He took another deep breath.

“He’s not dead until I see his body,” he reminded himself.

He picked up the phone and dialed Hawkeye.

“Hello?”

“Fullmetal’s gotten himself into some trouble and now Fleck is trying to—” the word briefly caught in his throat. He forced it through, “kill him. Get the men and meet me at the train station immediately. Have Breda try and get ahold of Alphonse, since he has the shortest distance to travel. Do not let him know what’s going on. We don’t know who’s listening. Just have him stay at the library until one of us gets him. I’ll tell you what I know on the way there.”

“Yes, sir,” Hawkeye said. There was not a trace of frustration in her voice.

He hung up the phone and then quickly dialed his aunt. He didn’t waste any time with a greeting. “I need everything you got on Colonel Fleck and I need someone to try and figure out where Fullmetal is. Flecks’ after him, but the kid doesn’t have anywhere to go in the city.”

“Got it, Roy-boy. I’m guessing you’re on your way?” Aunt Chris asked.

“I’m taking the next train.”

“Try not to cause too much trouble,” she huffed.

“I’ll do whatever’s necessary to stop Fleck.”

He hung up the phone and stormed out of his apartment. Now that he was no longer listening to Ed trying to lie his way out of getting murdered, briefly thinking the kid had died over the phone, and Fleck threatening everyone under the sun with torture and a firing squad, he was starting to feel angry. One job. Ed had one job. One rule to follow. One measly thing Mustang asked him to do.

Don’t go looking for trouble. That was all he asked of him. And yet, here he was, storming off to catch the last train to Central at nine in the evening after a long day of work to keep this kid from dying.

Perhaps he was still feeling a bit… emotionally charged after what he just went through.

At the end of the day, it didn’t matter. Because as soon as he was done dealing with Fleck, he was going to murder Ed with his own two hands.

“Whatever you found, it better be worth it,” he said as he waited for the rest of the men to show up at the train station.

While he waited, he let himself imagine how good it was going to feel when he got to finally punch Fleck and the rest of his crew in the face.

Chapter Text

Logically, he knew the train was moving at its normal speed. It would be in Central City in about two hours, just like normal. It arrived on time and would get to its destination. Logically, he knew there was nothing he could do to make it move fast. His mind wasn’t thinking very logically at the moment.

He kept looking for evidence that Fleck knew he was on his way. He kept looking for evidence that someone was trying to slow him down; to sabotage his trip. He kept looking for enemies at every corner, on every train seat, in every shadow. Even when he knew none were there.

It was agonizing, sitting on this train while Ed could be-- Don’t say it. Don’t even think it. Until you see that kid’s dead body for yourself, assume he’s doing what he normally does. Assume that he’s still alive and making a ruckus.

It had been a while since he had felt this helpless.

“Okay,” Havoc said, breaking the silence. “What do we know and what’s the plan.

Mustang checked his watch again. Only three minutes had passed since the last time he had checked it. Hawkeye put her hand over his and snapped it close. She pushed his hand down, a clear message to stop checking it and act like the colonel he was. Ed was in danger. He couldn’t lose his head now. He had to ignore the anxiety eating away at his stomach. He had to ignore the voice in the back of his head asking if Ed wanted to be buried in the military cemetery (probably not) or Resembool. He had to ignore his desire to stand up and just start screaming; yelling until his voice was hoarse and his body shut down because he couldn’t imagine a world where both Elric brothers weren’t running around, causing havoc. He had to ignore his fears that Fleck had gotten to Al as well and now he had two dead children he had to deal with. He had to ignore it all.

Worrying about Ed and Al isn’t going to do anything. He reminded himself for what felt like the hundredth time. He had done all he could. He had contacted everyone he knew he could trust. At this point, all there was left was to make a plan and to wait for the train to get to Central.

God, remembering what that gunshot sounded like over the phone… his heart shattered once more as the icy grip of fear overtook his veins once more.

He swallowed it down and slipped into something of a dissociative phase. At this point, it didn’t matter. So long as he was moving forward and making a plan to help Ed and punch Fleck in the face.

“Fullmetal called me from a payphone at approximately 2100. While I didn’t speak to him directly, I overheard a conversation with Colonel Fleck. It sounded like he was threatening Ed, Al, and a few other people.”

No need to tell the team about Hughes and Garcia just yet. They were mad enough as it and it didn’t help them.

“From what I could gather, it sounded like Fullmetal may have stumbled on something involving Colonel Fleck. Lieutenant Morgan is involved somehow, but I don’t know-how. Fleck did mention espionage several times during the phone call, but I don’t know if these were idle threats or if they have something to do with this whole mess.”

“Is it possible that Morgan’s a spy?” Breda asked.

“I’m not sure. As far as I know, there were no open investigations on him.”

After all of this was done, he’d have a nice long talk with Hughes about keeping him informed on any open investigations involving people that were directly working with Ed and Al. If Hughes’ distraction earlier was due to this… well, then, he’d be pissed. How would he like it if Mustang conveniently never told him that a potential spy was babysitting Elicia?

Once more, the sounds of gunshots echoed in his mind. He found himself questioning if he really did hear Fleck say Ed had escaped, or if it was just wishful thinking. What if he got to Central and he found a phone booth, swathed in police tape, and a small body slumped inside.

He swallowed down his fear again. He couldn’t lose it. Not now. He heard Fleck say Ed was alive. He heard him say he got away. That wasn’t his imagination. That wasn’t wishful thinking. That was the truth. Ed got away and now he was counting on him to stop Fleck before he tried to hurt him again.

He opened his pocket watch again. Two more minutes had passed.

“Besides,” he clicked it closed and forced himself back to the matter at hand, “it sounded like Fleck was the one Ed was afraid of, not Morgan. Fleck was the one who cornered him in the phone booth, threatened him, and then had his lieutenants attempt to shoot him.”

“Wait, what?” Fuery cried, loud enough so that the few people in the train car looked at him, angry he disturbed their sleep.

Right, Mustang hadn’t gotten to that part yet. “Yes. After Ed managed to get away from Fleck, several shots were fired.”

“Is the kid okay?” Havoc asked.

This time, Mustang was forced to tell the truth; forced to confront the possibility he had been dreading since he first heard the gunshots.

“I’m not sure. One of Fleck’s lieutenants said he managed to get away. But—”

“That doesn’t mean he wasn’t hurt,” Breda said, always the realist. Though, Mustang felt he could do a little better with his tact at the moment.

“Correct. We know that Fullmetal managed to get away from Fleck and the lieutenants, but we don’t know how injured he is or if Fleck is hunting him down.”

Breda let out a long sigh. “With everything you told us, it sounds like Fleck was up to something. Maybe he tried to blame Morgan, but Ed found out anyways. Now he’s trying to clean up loose ends. He’ll stop at nothing to make sure that kid can’t get help.”

Havoc groaned. “This is a mess. If Fleck’s trying to pin the blame on Lieutenant Morgan, he’s also going to be after him.”

Mustang didn’t care about Morgan at the moment. He knew it was cruel, cold, and callous. An innocent man might be targeted and executed for a crime he didn’t commit. But it wasn’t Morgan on the phone with him, scared out of his mind. It wasn’t Morgan who had gotten shot at. It wasn’t Morgan who Mustang was responsible for. It wasn’t Morgan whose death would all but guarantee his breakdown.

“And since you didn’t get a chance to talk to him, we don’t know where he’s going,” Hawkeye said, pulling his attention back to the matter at hand.

He nodded. “That’s correct. Normally, I’d assume he’d head straight for Hughes’ place, but he would have done that before calling me. Which means he wasn’t there when the kid stopped by. He doesn’t know where Armstrong lives. Fleck said, or rather implied, that he had someone watching Al at the library so Ed wouldn’t risk going back there. And if Fleck’s watching the library it stands to reason he’d be watching the dorms as well. Central Command is also out since there’d be no one there at the moment Ed trusts enough to stay with. He also wouldn’t risk another call out of any of these places. He knows the lines are monitored but doesn’t know how much sway Fleck has over who’s listening in.”

“Then we can assume he’s on the streets,” Hawkeye said simply. “If he has nowhere else to go and no way to contact us, he’s going to stay on the streets until he can come up with a plan.”

The streets were the last place he wanted Ed to be at the moment. It was cold and rainy out. The kid might be injured. Too long out there and Fleck wouldn’t be the only issue they’d have to worry about.

“We need to move fast once we get to Central,” Havoc said. “We’re wasting so much time just getting there. What’s the plan?”

“Al’s still in the library and is going to stay there until one of us gets him,” Breda said. He had managed to get ahold of him and had relayed the message earlier. Hawkeye had forced the boys to learn their codes so that they could communicate more freely over the military phones. To anyone listening in, it would simply appear as though Breda had gotten drunk and called Al up to talk about food.

At the time, Ed and Al both grumbled about the mandatory lessons. Mustang himself thought the whole exercise was a bit useless since anything they needed to speak in code about was something he didn’t want Ed and Al to be a part of. Now he was glad Hawkeye was so steadfast in her teachings. He should have known better than to assume the boys wouldn’t find their fair share of trouble on their own.

“And we’re sure he’s going to stay there?” Falman asked. “He won’t panic and look for his brother?”

Breda shrugged. “I can’t be sure. I didn’t tell him how bad it was, mostly because I didn’t have all the information myself. But, I think there’s a pretty good chance the kid will stay put. I tried to make it clear that we needed his help and if he’s out wandering around looking for Ed, it might cause more problems than it solves or we might have two kids to worry about instead of just one.”

Al was a mystery. He tended not to be as openly rebellious as Ed. Had Breda called him and told him Al was missing, Ed would be out the door looking for him before Breda finished his sentence. But Al seemed to trust them. More importantly, he seemed to realize he couldn’t do everything on his own. He needed help. He hoped the kid would stay put. Every variable he didn’t know was another potential way to fail.

“I have Armstrong looking for Ed and my contacts looking into Fleck,” Mustang added. “As soon as we get off the train, we’ll start collecting that information.”

“It might be best to set up shop in Lieutenant Colonel Hughes’s office,” Fuery said. “He has all the materials necessary to run an investigation and he regularly checks it for bugs and whatnot.”

“He’s also going to be coming back sometime tonight,” Mustang said. “As soon as we’re off the train, I want you to give him a call and see if he’s back. We’re going to need as much manpower working on this as possible.”

“Is our goal to find Ed or to figure out what Fleck’s up to?” Falman asked.

As much as Mustang wanted to devote all their time, energy, and resources to finding Ed, he knew it wasn’t the best course of action. The kid could be holed up anywhere. If he didn’t want to be found, then he wouldn’t be found. Down a leg or not. Shot in the back or not. Ed would hide until he wanted to be found.

He never realized how much he relied on Ed and/or Al to communicate with him what they were doing and where they were. Of course, they never communicated enough in his opinion, but generally, he had an idea of where they were at, what they were doing, who they were with, and when they were expecting to be done.

“Finding Fleck,” he answered. “He’s the biggest threat to Fullmetal right now and we need to know exactly what he’s involved in. If we can remove that threat, we can protect the kid. He’s not going to be hiding forever. Eventually, he is going to make his move. As soon as he does that, then we can work on finding him.”

“We also need to think about what Ed’s going to do,” Breda said. “Normally, I’d say he’d try and solve the problem on his own, but he can’t do that missing two limbs and possibly injured.”

“He definitely jumps into situations headfirst,” Havoc agreed, “but at the end of the day, chief’s smart. He knows his limits and he knows he can’t do this on his own.”

Mustang hugged, “It’s not knowing his limits that’s the problem. It’s respecting them. But, I do think you’re right. He’s more subdued when he doesn’t have his automail, less sure of himself and his abilities.”

Even if Fleck didn’t try to kill Ed, he was still going to get a good punch to the face for treating Ed like he was a lesser person because he was down a few limbs.

“Normally, I’d be trying to convince him he’s just as capable. For now, I want him to stay out of the way.”

They lapsed into silence once more. Mustang checked his watch again. Fifteen minutes had passed. A lot could happen in fifteen minutes. A lot could happen in a few hours. He could still hear the gunshots echoing in his ears. He was still straining to hear the sounds of a small body hitting the floor and the triumphant cry of the man who killed him.

“Still,” Hawkeye said, breaking the silence. “You’re right in thinking he’s going to move eventually. He’s not stupid. He knows he needs help. He’ll try to get in contact with Al first. He knows where he’s at and he knows Al can still fight.”

“And he doesn’t know that we know he’s in danger?” Falman asked.

Mustang shook his head.

“So he won’t be counting on us,” Breda said. “Then why wouldn’t he go straight to Al? What’s stopping him from heading back to Central Command?”

“Assuming that he is laying low, he might be trying to avoid a search party,” Havoc said.

Breda nodded. “If I’m a scared kid who just found out my superior officer was attempting to frame another soldier, the first thing I’d do is try to get help. He goes to Lieutenant Colonel Hughes but the man is out of town so he’s not at his office or home.”

“The next thing he does,” Hawkeye added, “is he decides to call Colonel Mustang for help. But, he doesn’t know who is and isn’t working for Fleck. He knows the military phone lines are monitored. And even if they aren’t monitored, the receptionist could see him and tell Fleck, so he goes to a phone booth and makes a call. But before he can, he’s found by Fleck.”

“Fleck knows that he knows,” Mustang said. “He doesn’t immediately kill Ed, probably because he’s trying to figure out if Ed managed to tell anyone.”

“And also trying to convince him to keep quiet,” Breda added. “The disappearance of a state alchemist, especially your state alchemist is going to draw a lot of attention. Attention Fleck doesn’t want. He’s trying to scare the kid into being quiet.”

“But, Ed doesn’t scare easily,” Fuery added.

You didn’t hear him on the phone. The tremors in his voice, the way he whimpered when Fleck brought up Morgan, would haunt Mustang’s dreams for the rest of his life.

“Exactly. He’s a fighter,” Havoc said. “So he fights back, manages to get away. Now Fleck has a problem. Not only does Ed know about his plan, but he’s also made it clear that he has every intention of exposing him.”

“My guess is, Fleck is going to try and deal with Ed first. He knows Ed’s weakened when he doesn’t have his automail whereas Al is still fully capable,” Breda said. “If Ed’s got the same line of thinking that we have, he’ll come to this conclusion as well. Fleck’s going to have a search party out. Depending on how many people he has it could take anywhere from two to four hours to scour the city.”

“That’s what he’s waiting for,” Mustang said. “He’s waiting for Fleck to get far enough away from Central Command so he can sneak back in and get to Al.”

“Then we have to make sure we’re there to greet him,” Hawkeye said.

“We’ll still focus most of our power on taking Fleck down,” he added. “Fleck is the most dangerous player in the game. Ed’s going to be coming to us whether he’s out of the picture or not. Removing Fleck as an obstacle will give him an easier time.”

“Not to mention he could be hiding out anywhere in the city,” Fuery sighed.

“No, he’s probably still close to the phone booth. He wouldn’t want to risk getting too far away from Central Command so that when he feels ready he can get there easily,” Breda said.

“Still, there are too many phone booths and places to hide around there,” Falman said. “We’d waste time looking for him.”

Mustang nodded. “We focus on Fleck. If he has organized a city-wide manhunt, he’s going to have to have a base of operations somewhere. We figure out what he’s involved with. We figure out how Morgan is involved. And we figure out how to bring him down.”

As much as he wanted to tear through the streets and look for Ed, he knew he couldn’t. Logically, this was the best way for him to ensure the kid’s safety. Besides, he had Al to worry about. If Ed timed it wrong, if it took him longer to get to Central Command, Fleck would move to Plan B. And Plan B likely involved taking Al as a hostage to force Ed out into the open. Mustang was loathed to admit it, he hated to admit it, but right now, ignoring whatever Ed was doing was the best option for making sure he survived.

*****

Hughes was exhausted. As much as he loved Elicia (and he loved her more than life itself) even he had to admit that traveling with a toddler was not fun. Not that he’d ever admit that. Any admission that his daughter was anything less than perfect was punishable by death in his opinion.

However, just because Elicia was perfect didn’t mean the trip home was fun. Keeping track of her, the luggage, snacks, drinks, games, coloring books, stuffed animals, and everything else was way harder than anything Hughes had to deal with at work. Of course, it also didn’t help that he was preoccupied with this whole ‘Morgan Situation’. Something about it didn’t sit right with him.

He didn’t doubt what Ed had seen. The kid would have no reason to lie about something like this. Hell, the kid would have no reason to lie in general. Hughes trusted him and trusted that he saw Morgan doing something.

But he did doubt Fleck and Morgan’s involvement. He had been in investigations for too long not to see that things weren’t adding up. Fleck in particular was suspicious. There was something about him that was almost too clean, too innocent. In meetings, Fleck tended to fade to the background. In one-on-one conversations, he conversed without really saying anything. It was easy to overlook him. It was easy to forget he was there. And that was a dangerous thing.

Some people were just like that. They were just boring people who didn’t have much to offer in way of mental stimulation. But the more Hughes thought about Fleck, the more he didn’t think this was the case. While Ed was telling Fleck about Morgan, Hughes was watching him. There was a glint in his eye, Hughes remembered it clearly. A spark that seemed to say he had found exactly what he was looking for. Hughes couldn’t get that spark out of his head. Maybe it was just the look of a man whose suspicions were now being confirmed.

That didn’t sit right with him. It didn’t add up for him.

He was loathed to leave Ed alone with the man while he went to visit his in-laws, but he also didn’t want to draw any suspicions towards himself. If Fleck thought he had Hughes’ full trust, he was more likely to make a mistake. He had his lieutenants on him, watching his every move, digging into not only Morgan and his past, but Fleck as well. And Bosco and Harrison. He just hoped Ed had enough understanding to stay out of the way. Hughes would only be gone for three days. Surely, the kid could stay out of trouble for three days while his unit investigated the matter thoroughly? Right?

Dammit. He probably should have told Roy what was going on. He called regularly, asking for updates on Ed and Al, making sure they were settling into Central and no one was giving Ed a hard time because of his arm and leg. Hughes found it adorable. Roy was such a dad, even though he didn’t want to admit it. But when he called the last time, he couldn’t help but hide this from him. Roy overreacted when it came to the Elrics. He lost his head and made rash decisions. As soon as Hughes told him something was up, he’d march straight into Central and attempt to deal with the situation himself. He couldn’t risk that. He couldn’t introduce more variables into the investigation. Besides, a visit from the famed Flame Alchemist might scare Morgan (or Fleck) and then he’d never get the evidence he needed.

But did he make the right decision? If Elicia had gotten caught up in some conspiracy, he’d want to know. And he’d probably march over to wherever she was at and take her away, investigations be damned! It didn’t matter now, he supposed. Ed and Al would be leaving soon and then he could tell Roy all about Ed’s discovery. And then he’d listen as the man shouted and carried on before reminding him that Ed and Al were safe and there was nothing to worry about. It’d be fine. Roy would forgive him.

He hoped.

Garcia put a hand on his arm and smiled at him. “Whatever it is you’re worried about, it’ll be okay.”

He smiled at her. “I know.”

Still, he couldn’t get rid of the sinking feeling in his gut. His lieutenants hadn’t managed to call and give him an update before he had to get on the train. There was something about not knowing that made him very anxious. Even though it was almost one in the morning, he’d drop by their dorms after settling Elicia, just to make sure.

Then in the morning, he’d call Roy and let him know what he found. Dammit, he should have done it earlier. He knew his friend would freak out, but Ed was close enough to the end of his four-week assignment that it wouldn’t be suspicious if he left to ‘repair his automail’. Then he’d have one less problem to worry about.

“I’ll check the mail. You take her upstairs,” Hughes said. “I’ll be up in a minute with the bags.”

Garcia nodded and quietly made her way up the stairs to their apartment. He set the suitcases down and opened up the mailbox.

He frowned when he saw a plain manila envelope stuffed inside. No address was written on it. Which meant this hadn’t been sent through the mail. He wondered if it was Mrs. Gradler with a list of complaints again. Even when he wasn’t here, the woman still found things to blame him for. One time, she complained about his dog barking at all hours of the night. He didn’t have a dog.

He rolled his eyes and tucked the folder under his arm, picking up the suitcases and making his way up the stairs. He froze when he saw their landlord speaking to Garcia in a quiet voice. She seemed very nervous. Both women turned to him, both looking grave.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Edward stopped by last night,” Garcia said.

Hughes’ insides turned to ice.

“The poor thing seemed terrified,” the landlady said. “Looked like he was about to cry and was soaked to the bone. It looked like there was blood on him, but with these old eyes, I couldn’t be sure. Either way, I don’t think it was his. I tried to get him to stay, but he wouldn’t hear of it. It seemed like he was afraid someone was following. He kept looking over his shoulder. Did you get the folder he left for you?”

Hughes barely managed a nod. Right now, his mouth felt like it was stuffed full of cotton. He didn’t trust himself to say anything.

“What time did he come by last night?”

“Around nine in the evening? I believe.”

Shit, what had Ed gotten up to? Three days. He just had to stay out of trouble for three days and he couldn’t even manage that! What was more troubling, though, was the fact that Ed had now possibly been missing for almost four hours. Whether it was his blood or not didn’t really matter. He clearly needed help, and Hughes wasn’t here to help him.

I should have told Roy.

“I need to go to the office,” he said, finally forcing words from his mouth. “I’m assuming this is the envelope you were talking about?”

The landlady’s eyes flickered to the manila envelope in his arm. “Yep. That’s the one. He wrote a note on the inside, I believe. I don’t know what it said, though.”

“No, that’s fine. Garcia, can you try and get ahold of Roy. I need him to get here as soon as possible.”

“Maes, even if he were to leave now, the train will take hours to get here,” she said.

“I know, and I don’t care. He needs to get here as soon as possible. Call Armstrong too while you’re at it. We’ll need all the help we can get. I also need to see if Al was with him or not.”

He assumed Al wasn’t with Ed. The landlady would have mentioned a giant suit of armor with Ed and the kid probably wouldn’t have felt so scared if Al were with him. That was bad, really bad. “I need to leave now. Sorry. You can handle Elicia, right?”

She shook her head. “No, don’t apologize. I can handle her. Just make sure those boys are safe.”

“I will," he kissed her and then rushed off to his office. As much as he wanted to tear into the folder now, he knew he needed to wait. There was no telling what information Ed gathered. He couldn’t risk opening it in public and revealing something that could spell disaster for the country.

As he drove to the office, he couldn’t imagine what this was like for Roy. Hughes only had to wait a few minutes before he could get started. Roy would have to wait hours. He wouldn’t blame him now if he was furious. Ed had been missing for hours, possibly injured. He had no clue where Al was. This had to be about what Ed saw with Morgan.

The only question was whether Morgan was behind it, or Fleck.

“Dammit,” he said, smacking the steering wheel. “I should have told him about this when I found out.” How could he have been so naïve as to think Ed wouldn’t get more involved than he already had? He had been forced to listen to Roy rant for hours about all the shit Ed and Al got up to. To think Ed would stay out of it simply because he was down an arm and a leg was ludicrous.

Roy was going to kill him. He was going to murder Hughes for letting the kid get caught up in things without telling him. That was after he killed whoever was after the kid, of course.

He pulled up to the building and walked quickly through the halls. He didn’t want anyone to know something was wrong. Not when he didn’t know who was behind this. It was bad enough that he was coming in at close to one in the morning. But the second someone knew that he knew something was wrong, they might pounce on him. He didn’t know who was after the kid or what power they might have. If they were a high enough rank, they might be able to put out a warrant for Ed’s arrest. Make it look legal. Make it look legit. He couldn’t have that. He had to keep in control of the situation if he hoped to keep Ed and Al alive. He hoped Armstrong would be here soon. He needed all the help he could get. He needed to get to the bottom of this before Ed ended up in front of a firing squad. Hell, if that happened, he’d gladly let Roy burn him. He was partially responsible for keeping the kid out of trouble, after all.

He got to his door, eyes wide as he saw it was slightly ajar. He narrowed his eyes and pulled out a knife. Someone was either in his office now, or had been in his office looking for information.

He took a deep breath to steady himself and then peaked through the crack. It was…

“Roy?”

Roy jumped and turned to him as he pushed open the door. “Hughes?”

“How in the hell did you get here so fast?”

“Fullmetal called me several hours ago. Why are you here?”

He held up the envelope. “He stopped by my place last night at around nine scared out of his mind and left this.”

“So, he called me just after he went to you,” Roy muttered. “Fleck must not have known that otherwise, he would have probably broken into your apartment.”

“Which means he didn’t tail the kid that well,” Breda said.

“Good for him,” Fuery said. He looked like he wanted to kill someone. It was shocking to see such a murderous expression on the face of a man who was normally so timid and polite. “Glad Ed managed to give that bastard the slip.

“Wait, Colonel Fleck is the one behind this?” It wasn’t a surprise, but he was still shocked that Roy had this much information on the situation already.

“He is. At least, he was the one who was threatening Fullmetal during the phone call.” Despite Roy’s even tone, Hughes could tell he was stressed and anxious. And who wouldn’t be? He heard Fleck threatening Ed over the phone and couldn’t do a goddamn thing about it.

“He got away,” he continued. “I sent Falman and Havoc to the library to get Al. What’s in the folder?”

“Right. I didn’t have a chance to look at it.” He pulled it out and opened it, his eyes widening as he realized what he was looking at. “Grieves and Fleck… they were planning on killing the Generals and the Fuhrer. We got Armstrong, Grumman, Raven, Hakuro, shit, the list just goes on and on.”

“Grieves is in on this too?”

“It makes sense since Fleck is his subordinate.”

Roy cursed again. “Fuery, contact every general on this list and let them know that there is a hit out on them placed there by General Grieves and Colonel Fleck.”

“What about Morgan? Do we know what happened with him?”

“Morgan?”

“Yeah, Ed found him stealing information from the Records Room. We thought he was the spy, not Fleck and Grieves.”

Roy shook his head. “I don’t know anything about that. Though, Fleck did mention something about him and Ed working together. It was definitely a threat.”

Hughes nodded, a sinking feeling in his gut as Roy looked up at him. He also looked like he wanted to kill someone.

“So you did know about this?” he hissed, his voice laced with venom.

“Roy, I—”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

Before Hughes could respond to that, the door burst open. He had his knives out, Hawkeye had her guns out, and Roy’s hand was outstretched ready to snap as they turned to the newest intruder.

He felt sick as he looked at Lieutenant Robert Morgan’s bloody, broken body, barely standing and he dragged himself through the door.

“Lieutenant Colonel Hughes,” he gasped, barely keeping himself upright. It looked like someone had attempted to beat him to death. He didn’t even seem to realize that there were multiple people in the room all with weapons aimed right at him.

“I have reason to suspect that Colonel Fleck and Major General Grieves are planning on committing treason against the government. Those reasons being that they embezzled funds and then tried to kill me. They did not succeed.”

That seemed to take all the strength out of him and he passed out on the floor.

“What the fuck?” Roy said as they stared down at Morgan’s limp form. “Fuery, call up Knox and tell him we need some help while you’re at it. I need to talk to him as soon as he wakes up.”

“Wouldn’t a hospital be better?” Hawkeye said.

“No, not until we get Grieves and Fleck. If they tried to kill him, then they’ll come back to tie up loose ends once they know they didn’t succeed. For now, let’s keep trying to find them, and Ed.”

“We think he’s going to be making his way back to Central Command soon, Breda explained as he and Mustang helped shovel Morgan out of the doorway. “We haven’t gotten much on Fleck and what he’s doing, but we have Armstrong out looking for him.”

Hughes nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak right now. Morgan didn’t even look like he was alive. His clothes were soaked. He had been left out in the rain, probably die.

A scapegoat, His brain whispered. Fleck’s eyes lit up because he had found a scapegoat.

And, despite his suspicions, Hughes had fallen for the man’s lies hook, line, and sinker.

Chapter Text

Al showed up not long after Morgan’s dramatic entrance. They hadn’t even gotten the blood off the floor. Al clearly saw it but made no move to question it. Mustang couldn’t blame him. He had been alerted to his brother’s attack hours ago and had had to sit in the library waiting for the others to get here. It must have been torture for the younger Elric. He’d make sure to give Fleck an extra punch just for that. Right now, though, he had to focus on keeping Al calm and figuring out how to get to Ed.

“I know something was going on! I knew it, but he wouldn’t tell me anything!” He was staring at Morgan’s bloodied, unconscious form in the corner as Havoc and Falman worked to stabilize him as much as possible.

“Is he going to be okay?” He continued.

Mustang didn’t know. The fact that Morgan was still alive, to begin with, was a miracle. With the rain and the beating, he was looking at a host of issues and complications that, if not treated immediately, could lead to death. And, if Mustang had the general timeline right, Morgan was probably attacked at around the time Ed called him. That must have been what set him off and forced him into that telephone booth. Despite this, Mustang didn’t want Al to worry about Morgan either. They had more important things to deal with.

“We have a doctor on the way who can stabilize him more. For now, let’s focus on finding your brother. I know you’re frustrated with him, but we can’t afford to get distracted.”

“It’s because he thinks he’s useless.” God, Al sounded like he was crying. He had walked through the rain to get here. The droplets of water running down his armor made it look like he was crying. “He thinks he’s useless so he forces himself to not ask for help from anyone. Not even me. And I hate it! I don’t think he’s useless! Why didn’t he ask for help? Why didn’t he come to me?”

As much as Mustang would normally love to try and talk some sense into Al, keep him focused, and deal with the emotional repercussions of going through a boatload of trauma before he was even a teenager, they didn’t have the time right now. Ed was still missing and it was only a hunch that he would be trying to make his way back to Central soon. That was if he was even still alive.

The sounds of that gunshot echoed in his mind. He’d never forget it or the feeling of realizing his kid was dead. The feeling of his heart plummeting from his chest. The feeling of his legs giving out. The almost numb sensations that overcame him as his mind struggled to comprehend that he would have to live the rest of his life without Ed in it.

He didn’t have a body. Ed wasn’t dead yet.

Besides, Ed wasn’t the only variable that they had to worry about. They still had no clue how large this operation was. Did Grieves and Fleck know they were here? Did they just have Bosco and Harrison or did they have dozens of more soldiers in on the plot? If there were more people involved, were they all under Grieves and Fleck, or were they scattered around?

Each question opened up dozens of possibilities that needed to be planned for. Right now, Mustang (Like Ed in the phone booth) was assuming the worst possible scenario. Fleck and Grieves had dozens of soldiers scattered through Amestris under various commands all working to kill no less than ten generals and murder the one state alchemist that might blow their cover.

How was Ed this unlucky that these were the odds they were dealing with?

“Al,” he said sharply, causing the boy to jump and turn back to him. “We need you to focus now. We need to find Ed. He’s going to be heading back here soon.”

“That’s smart,” Hughes added. Mustang still wasn’t sure if he wanted to punch him or not for withholding very important information. He’d decide after Fleck was a pile of ash. “He doesn’t know if he’s gotten ahold of you but he knows Al would be in the library. He knows I’m heading back and will get the file he left in the mailbox and alert the proper channels. From there, he just needs to wait it out until I can come and get him.”

“We need to figure out how he’s going to get back to the library, though.” Breda started pacing the room. If anyone could get into Ed’s mind and figure out his movements, it would be him. “He doesn’t know who’s on Fleck and Grieves’ side so he’s not going to risk going through the front door.”

“The streets and sneaking are out as well,” Havoc added. “We all know the chief isn’t in top shape right now, and that’s assuming he’s not injured. Even if he had his automail, he’s likely tired, possibly injured, dehydrated, cold, and stressed.”

Breda nodded. “He knows he can’t risk a one-on-one confrontation right now and can’t run if he needs to. He needs something that’s out of the way and unlikely to be looked at by Fleck. The man thinks he’s a stupid kid, right? So anything crafty but easy for him to get access to would be Ed’s best bet. The kid is smart. He’s going to use Fleck underestimating him to his advantage.”

“You know,” Hughes said, “there are sewers that run all underneath here. Storm sewers. If Ed was at the phonebooth I think he was at, there’s a pretty nice size entrance near there.”

“Oh, yeah,” Al brightened considerably. “You’ve talked to us about them before, lieutenant colonel. We even went down there to see them one time.”

“Really, Hughes? Really?” He groaned. On top of finding potentially deadly conspiracy theories, he did not want to think about Ed and Al splashing around in disgusting city water. Sure, they were storm sewers, but that didn’t mean they were clean by any stretch of the imagination. Even now, he was shuddering at the number of diseases Ed could have picked up while exploring around them. He hoped the kid washed his hands after going down there; just, scrubbed the first layer of skin right off.

That being said, they were pretty nice if one wanted to sneak around Central unnoticed. At least, once you got used to the smell. Mustang used them multiple times to sneak in and out of the bar to visit his aunt and sisters.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that. I’ve brought up the safety concerns multiple times. The Fuhrer always waves away my concerns.”

“If he’s coming in through the sewers,” Hawkeye said, directing their conversation back to the problem at hand, “then he’ll be coming here soon. As soon as he gets to the library and sees that Al isn’t there, he might panic and do something rash. He’s not in the best mind frame right now. We need to head him off before Fleck finds him and get him somewhere safe until this matter is resolved.”

“Agreed.” Now that they were starting to make a plan and getting ready to move, he felt more at ease. Or, at least, he was able to ignore the gnawing feeling of terror that had accompanied him since Ed’s call all those hours ago.

“Falman, you go to the library and wait for Fullmetal just in case we don’t catch him. Fuery, you stay here with Morgan and wait for Knox to show up. I want you to alert every general on that list to their potential assassination attempts and to be on their guard until we know who is involved. We need to move quickly. Fleck may underestimate Fullmetal, but he also knows that the longer he stays alive, the more likely he is to tell someone. He’ll use everything in his power to go after him. Keeping Fullmetal alive is our priority, but I want as many of Fleck’s men also alive as possible for questioning later. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Let’s move out.”

Everyone grabbed their weapons and slid out Ed’s makeshift hole in Hughes’ wall. He’d have Al patch it later. For now, he just needed to focus on getting Ed back in one piece.

It was still dark as they rushed towards the opening in the sewer system nearest to Central Command. It hid the large group of murderous soldiers (plus a large suit of murderous armor) well. The fewer people that saw them, the better. The rain had let up, which meant that his gloves were fully functional to incinerate anyone who got in his way. Good. He felt like it had been a while since he showcased why he was such a terrifying figure. He’d make sure that anyone who thought it was a good idea to go after Ed would think of Fleck and what had happened to him.

Once they got to the opening of the sewer, Mustang’s heart both plummeted and soared. It soared with happiness because they were right. Someone had recently come through here. Furthermore, based on the streaks of bloody handprints on the wall, that person looked to be about Ed’s height. And the handprints were fresh. What were the odds that someone else about Ed’s height would be coming through here right at the time Mustang assumed?

But, it plummeted when he fully comprehended what he was looking at. Bloody handprints, on the wall; streaking along the rough bricks in a way that said Ed was having a hard time walking. Ed was bleeding still, after all these hours, and having a hard time walking. They needed to find him.

“Come on, be on your toes and ready for a fight. Fullmetal might not be thinking straight right now and might attack us.” He stepped into the sewer, repeating the mantra in his head that he wouldn’t count Ed as dead until he had a body in his arms to bury.

A few steps into the tunnels, Mustang found Bosco and Harrison, unconscious and trapped in concrete.

Of course, he felt a surge of pride course through his veins. If anyone ever said that Ed was useless without his automail if anyone ever talked down to the kid because he was down an arm and a leg, Mustang would proudly and gladly show them the trapped traitors as proof that Ed didn’t rely on anything but himself to get through tough situations. Hell, at this point, even he was starting to feel slightly guilty because he had also assumed that Ed wasn’t as capable when he was down an arm and a leg. That thought process would be rectified immediately.

Al saw the two traitors and gasped. “Oh, no! We’re too late!” He made a move to rush forward.

Mustang barely managed to hold him back. “Wait, we can’t rush in yet.”

Or ever. Really, one should never rush into a situation they knew next to nothing about.

“But—”

“But nothing.” Once more, he used that tone of voice that could make even Ed shut up and listen to him. And he needed Al to listen to him. This wasn’t a normal fight. They couldn’t treat it like every other squabble the brothers had gotten into. One wrong move and Ed would be the one who died. He had to make Al understand that.

If he was dealing with a normal soldier, he would have sent Al back to the library with Falman to wait for Ed. But, he knew that Al wasn’t going to sit idly by and wait for them. However, he’d be damned if he let this whole operation fall apart when they were so close to succeeding.

“We don’t know what we’re up against. We don’t know if anyone else is down here. We don’t know what kind of state Fullmetal will be in. Your armor is too loud. It’d give away our position and presence, which would then give Fleck the chance to take Ed hostage. We can’t risk that right now. I need you to stay here. If Grieves shows up, or anyone not on my team, you have my full permission to knock them out. If Bosco or Harrison wakes back up, you have my full permission to knock them out again. Do whatever you need to keep people out of the tunnel until we get Ed back. Understood?”

“But—”

God, why couldn’t these kids just do what they were asked for once without arguing with him?

“Nothing. Alphonse, you have to trust me. I know what I’m doing. I’m not going to let him hurt Ed anymore. But I need you to listen to me.”

It was then that he could hear it; the faint sounds of a fight; the familiar crackle of alchemy in the air that always made the hair on his arms stand on end. Someone else was down there with Ed. Someone else was hurting him. He couldn’t waste any more time. Either Al was going to ignore his orders and come with him, or he was going to stay here and do what he was told. Either way, they had run out of time and luck. Ed needed them and he needed them now.

Thankfully, Al nodded and stepped back. “Alright, sir. I’ll stop anyone who tries to enter the tunnel.”

He sounded terrifying in that instance. People often thought of Al as being the soft-spoken brother; the polite one; the nice. But, if Mustang knew anything about these two, it was that Al was just as dangerous, if not more so than Ed. He had a feeling that the Fuhrer himself wouldn’t manage to move Al until Mustang exited the tunnel with his brother. It was a very good thing these brothers were on his side. For now, at least.

“Thank you. Breda, Havoc, take the tunnels on the left. Hawkeye, Hughes, you take the ones on the right. I’ll head down the middle. We’ll come at them from all sides. The goal is to keep Fullmetal and Fleck or whoever else is down there with him alive. But, Fullmetal takes priority. We have Bosco and Harrison. That’s all we need.”

Wordlessly, they all rushed down their prospective tunnels; quiet footsteps echoing off the walls in a pattern close enough to the patter of rainfall dripping through the cracks. If Fleck was listening for footsteps, he’d be hard-pressed to hear them. However, Mustang very much doubted he was listening for anything.

As he got closer to where they were, he could hear them fighting. Good lord, how was this kid even still able to fight? He had made sure that Ed knew he wasn’t useless while missing an arm and a leg. And he had never thought of Ed as being useless like this. However, there was a massive difference between not being useless and still able to cause a massive headache for any bad guys who wanted to go up against him. Ed apparently decided that he was going to firmly plant his ass in the second category and not budge for anything. Which was good because that meant Mustang wasn’t going to find a dead body.

He couldn’t find a dead body. Not after all of this. Not after Ed had fought tooth and nail, clawing his way towards Central Command to get some help. He wouldn’t allow it. He wouldn’t allow that kid to go out when he was so close. His brother was just down at the front of the tunnel. He had to take Ed to see him. Al needed to see that he was alright.

Mustang needed to see that he was alright, that the bullet hadn’t hit him. That he wasn’t bleeding out in the park while Mustang was chasing two bums who got into a fight beneath the streets of Central.

He got closer.

He could hear them. Fleck sounded like he was furious. He sounded feral; rabid; almost inhuman in the way he was snarling. He was trying to kill Ed. He had to kill him if he wanted to make sure all loose ends were tied up. And Ed… God, he couldn’t even hear Ed.

This was a fight. Ed was supposed to be snapping back with sarcastic comebacks that served to make his attackers even angrier. He was supposed to be making cocky declarations. He was supposed to be loud. All Mustang could hear were grunts of pain.

The blood roared in his ears. He felt like he had tunnel vision. The rest of the sewers fell completely out of his sight. He could only hear the sounds of Ed struggling to breathe and Fleck hitting him over and over and over and over again. He could only see the dark tunnel in front of him as he got closer to where they were fighting. He could only think about how he was going to get Fleck off of Ed. How he was going to make sure this man never laid a hand on his again. How he was going to make Fleck suffer for what he said to him, for what he did to him.

It was one thing to be a run-of-the-mill bad guy. It was one thing to simply try and kill Ed for getting in the way.

It was another thing to string him along, gaslight him, pretend like he was on his side, and then act like ed was a pathetic piece of garbage that needed to be taken out. It was another thing to call him such horrid names. It was another thing to underestimate him repeatedly and treat him like he was some vegetable unable to even stand on his own. Mustang knew how Ed felt about himself. He knew how hard it was for him to be without his arm and leg for a month. How dare Fleck capitalize on that. How dare he say those things to him and then hunt him down so he could kill him in the fucking sewers.

Even without his leg, Ed would still figure out a way to stand on his own. He’d hop on one foot if he had to. But he was not useless. He was not weak. He was not an invalid.

Each step closer to the fight made Mustang’s blood boil more and more. The worry that had been burrowing into his gut transformed to rage so blinding and hot he wondered if he had accidentally set himself on fire. He might have cracked a tooth with how hard he was clenching his jaw.

Then, he stumbled onto the fight.

He stumbled onto the fight. He stumbled onto Fleck kneeling over Ed. He stumbled onto a broken prosthetic leg scattered in pieces throughout the tunnels. He stumbled onto Ed choking, actually choking as Fleck had his hands wrapped around his throat. He nearly started snapping. Someone could fix the tunnels later. Someone could identify Fleck’s body later. He just needed to get Fleck away from his kid as soon as possible.

Thankfully, he wasn’t quite that far gone and managed to regain control of himself.

Fleck had his back to him. Mustang could see the tips of Ed’s boots (no, boot, there was only one now) on the ground. Fleck was standing over him. Mustang wanted to snap. He wanted to launch Fleck as far away from Ed as he could get.

He didn’t, though. He didn’t know if Fleck had weapons. He didn’t know how injured Ed was. He didn’t know if his flames would hurt him as well. He had to stay in control. Ed was counting on him. He had called him with the hopes that he could solve this. And he would. First, he needed to get more information. He looked down the other tunnels. Breda, Havoc, Hawkeye, and Hughes weren’t here yet. They’d be coming soon. The more people there were, the harder it would be for them to sneak up on Fleck. He couldn’t wait for them.

He didn’t want to wait for them.

He had to deal with this now.

He stepped closer, keeping his footsteps as light as possible so they didn’t make a sound.

“Do you know how hard it’s going to be to cover up your death?” Fleck screamed. “Morgan can disappear without a fucking trace. No one cares about him. But you, you’re the Fullmetal Alchemist. And your superior officer is not going to take your disappearance or death at face value!”

He heard Ed answer but couldn’t make out what he said.

Another step closer. It was a very good thing he had some control over his anger because seeing the state of Ed made his blood boil. He was beaten, bloody, bruised, soaking wet. His hair was a tangled mess out of its normal braid and his clothes were shredded. Fleck had his hands wrapped around his throat. Ed was clawing at him, desperately trying to get him off. Even like this, Ed was still a fighter till the bitter end. And now it was Mustang’s turn to make sure this was not the bitter end.

Ed wheezed painfully and started wrenching his head back and forth to try and dislodge his grip. It was in doing this that he locked eyes with Mustang. He put a finger to his lips. He was still too far away. Fleck would be able to take him hostage in a flash. He stepped closer. He was almost there.

“Don’t worry, I’ll think of something,” Fleck growled.

Ed licked his lips and looked back to Fleck. He didn’t look like a kid who was moments from death. If anything, he looked remarkably calm, if not a bit deadly. There was a fire in his eyes that, to anyone else, would spell danger. To anyone else, that would be the sign to take a step back and evaluate the situation. Fleck wasn’t anyone else. He was simply a man who refused to acknowledge that Ed was his equal. No, Ed was more than his equal. He was his superior. He had bested him by himself. God, Mustang was so proud of this fucking kid.

Then, the brat had the actual gall to grin at Fleck. “Better think of it quick because Mustang is pissed.”

This got Mustang to roll his eyes. In any other situation, he’d be pissed at Ed for giving away their advantage, but he understood what the brat was doing. He hadn’t given away anything. Because Fleck would simply refuse to believe that Mustang was anywhere near here. Another step closer. Just a bit long. Ed just had to stall for a bit longer.

“He will be.”

“No, he is.”

Closer.

“How do you know?”

Closer.

“I told you, I called him. He knows you’re after me.”

Closer.

Fleck squeezed hard. Ed’s bravado vanished as he resumed his attempts to yank the man’s hands off him. Mustang felt pleased when he saw he had managed to claw at them quite a bit.

“And I told you, I didn’t believe you. You and I both know you weren’t fast enough to call him. Not like that.”

Closer.

He could hear someone coming down the tunnels. He had to act soon.

“And yet, I did. And he’s pissed.”

“How do you know that?”

Finally, he was standing behind him. He could reach out and grab him. He could throw him away from Ed before he even thought to take him hostage.

Ed locked eyes with him once more. Mustang nodded.

“Cause he’s standing right behind you.”

This goddamn brat and his dramatic ass self. Still, it was very satisfying to see Fleck’s entire body go rigid. Mustang didn’t give him a chance to fully comprehend what Ed had just said. He acted on instinct, grabbing Fleck’s shoulder and ripping him away from Ed with a strength that surprised even him. Fleck was by no means a small man, but fuck did it feel great to throw him across the tunnel-like he weighed nothing. He hit the opposite wall with a sickening crack. But Mustang wasn’t done with him yet. Oh, no. Not even close. No one attempted to kill his major and get away with it.

He grabbed the collar of his shirt and hauled him off the ground, slamming his fist into his face. God, did that feel satisfying? The way the bones crunched beneath his knuckles; the way Fleck’s head snapped back with the force; it was even better than he had imagined it. He would have been content to hit him again and again and again until Fleck finally stopped moving, but he didn’t think Ed would appreciate that. Even after all of this, the kid would still talk about appreciating life and whatnot. So, he let him stumble away. But he wasn’t going to let him get off that easily. A simple punch to the face wasn’t nearly punishment enough for what he had done. Yes, he would likely be tortured once the military got ahold of him to make sure he wasn’t working for another country, but Mustang didn’t care about what happened later. He only cared about what happened now. He only cared about bringing about his punishment on this man. And not because he plotted to kill the Fuhrer.

Once Fleck was far enough away from him, he snapped.

Fleck let out a scream and dove into the water, desperately trying to put out the flames and get away from a very pissed-off Flame Alchemist. He didn’t get very far. Hawkeye and the rest of the team all emerged from their respective tunnels. Hawkeye had two rounds fired off at Fleck before he could even blink. Havoc dove in to retrieve him. Fleck would probably be getting more punches to the face once Havoc managed to drag him out. He could feel the murderous rage radiating off of his men. Hell, at this rate, Fleck would be lucky to leave this tunnel alive.

Mustang decided to leave his team to it. He had more important things to take care of anyways.

He rushed to Ed’s side, relieved to see the kid was still conscious. “Fullmetal.” He put a hand on his shoulder.

The kid was staring off into the space where Fleck was. Shit, he was so out of it. The events of the evening were likely catching up with him. If Mustang didn’t do something to stop him soon, the kid might have a complete breakdown.

“Fullmetal, are you okay?” he asked sharply.

Obviously, Ed was not okay. He was injured, exhausted, probably dehydrated, missing his prosthetic, looked like he had taken a swim in the nasty sewer water, and was probably at least a little hypothermic. But, he needed to get the kid talking, even if it was just to lie to him.

“They killed him,” he choked out.

Mustang furrowed his brows. “What?”

“They killed him,” Ed continued as if he didn’t hear him. “And I didn’t do anything. I just watched.”

Was he talking about Morgan? The man did say Fleck and the others had attempted to kill him. And… oh, oh God. Ed had watched them attempt to murder him. Ed had watched them try to beat a man to death.

“Morgan? No, he’s not dead. He’s fine. He’s alive.”

Ed shoved Mustang’s hands off him. “Yes, he is! I saw him! His blood got all over me!”

Well, so much for not inducing a panic attack because it was clear Ed was having one.

“Roy, what’s going on?” Hughes asked.

“He was there when they tried to kill Morgan. He doesn’t know he’s alive,” he answered before turning back to Ed.

“Okay, let’s get you out of here. Everything’s okay now.”

Ed wasn’t listening to him. He didn’t even know if he could hear. His breaths were coming out in short bursts and he was clawing at his chest. Mustang didn’t know what else to do and pulled Ed into him.

“It’s okay. Just breathe kid.”

He decided it was only his team in the tunnels at the moment and pulled Ed into his arms. He was freezing; his skin like ice to the point where he felt it through his clothes.

“It’s okay, you’re okay. You need to breathe. I’ve got you.”

Ed let out a wailing sound akin to a dying dog. His entire body was shaking as he seemed torn about whether to fight Mustang off or collapse into him further.

He started to rub his back; a repetitive motion that would hopefully ground him and start to warm his frozen body back up.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you. I’m here. You’re okay.”

He wasn’t listening to him, that much was clear. Instead choking and sobbing on his breath as his body struggled to calm down and fight the panic. He wrapped his arms tightly around him, letting himself surround the child. Ed was still taking gasping gulps of air but it was being expelled just as quickly as it was going into his boy.

He was so small like this. So small and fragile. He felt like a baby bird in Mustang’s arms. One wrong squeeze and he would snap him in half. It was strange, with how much Ed had fought these past few hours and how capable he had proven himself to be, he felt more vulnerable and weaker than ever.

“Breathe, kid, breathe. Please, just breathe. Everything’s okay.” He didn’t know what else to do. Ed wasn’t listening to what he was saying. He didn’t know why he was panicking or what to say to help. He felt like he had been tossed up into the sky and was now plummeting back to Earth; desperately reaching out to grab onto something but nothing was there. All he could do was beg for Ed to breathe and hoped he’d eventually listen to him.

He didn’t listen to him. His body gave up trying to fight. After hours of pain, cold, fighting, and panic, he finally gave up and passed out in his arms. He could feel his dead weight sagging against his body. His breathing evened out and his heartbeat, weaker than it should have been, was still there, thumping against the palm on his back. He soaked his clothes with water and blood. Even just a few minutes down here was enough to make Mustang shiver and want to go change. The bloodstains would likely never come out. He didn’t care. Right now, all he cared about was getting Ed some help and proving to him that he hadn’t watched someone die. He was fine. Morgan was fine. Everyone was fine.

He managed to maneuver Ed so he was tight against his chest and then stumbled to his feet. Thankfully, without the automail, Ed was pretty light. That and there was no way in hell Mustang wasn’t carrying him out of the sewers. At this point, he’d be surprised if he allowed the doctors at the hospital to pry him from his hands.

“I need to get him to the hospital. Are you okay to deal with him?”

He was right. Havoc and Breda had done a post-victory beatdown of Fleck. The man was now down several teeth and his nose would likely never be the same. If he survived long enough for it to heal, that is.

“Yeah, we’re fine here, Roy,” Hughes said. He was staring at Fleck with such intense hatred, that it almost threw him off.

He was used to his own less-than-savory overprotective tendencies when it came to the safety of his team, it was quite another thing to watch the dark shadows passing over Hughes’ face as he looked like he was seriously contemplating murder. Even Hawkeye looked like she might just break their promise and kill Fleck for no other reason than to make him pay.

“I’ll drive you and Al to the hospital,” she said, putting her guns away and marching up to him. Her eyes briefly fell on Ed’s unconscious form. “How badly injured is he?”

“I’m not sure. He does need a hospital, though. Come on, Al’s probably worried.”

She clenched her jaw, nodded, and followed stiffly after him. He wondered if Ed knew how much of a pull he had over this team.

When they got to the entrance, he was shocked to see Bradley there, looking like he was also ready to murder some traitors. Armstrong was also there, along with Al. He hated it when Bradley was alone with one of the brothers. He had his own game that he was playing and Mustang didn’t like that Ed and Al were part of it.

“Sir?” he asked, shifting Ed in his arms to make sure he didn’t slip out. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off and the anger and anxiety were being replaced with relief, the kid was starting to get heavier.

Bradley’s demeanor changed when he saw him. The wrathful aura dissipated to a more cheery and pleasant one. “Ah, colonel, I trust you’ve taken care of the traitors?”

“Yes, sir”

“Good. Good. I was going to go down and help, but young Alphonse was insistent that I stay out here.”

Al did not look like he cared one bit about what Bradley wanted.

“Yes, that was to make sure Fleck wasn’t tipped off by our presence. Though, to be fair, if I had known you and Armstrong were coming, I would have told him to let you through.”

“Of course, of course.” Bradley smiled at him.

Mustang did not smile back.

“Brother!” Al said, rushing up to him. He let him take Ed from his arms, as much as he didn’t want him to. The kid was heavy and he didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to carry him. And, Al deserved to check over his brother himself. He had been forced onto the sidelines for pretty much this entire experience. He deserved to help his brother.

“Hawkeye, drive them to the hospital, please. You can send a report of Fullmetal’s injuries to me later,” He hoped he sounded nonchalant enough to not tip off Bradley that he actually cared for Ed a great deal. He didn’t know what games he was playing and he didn’t want to give him any more advantages than he already had.

Hawkeye hesitated, glancing over at Bradley who simply smiled. Then, she saluted and led Al off to the waiting car.

“We caught Greives trying to flee into Cretan territory,” Bradley said, his eyes following Ed and Al as Hawkeye opened the door and helped them get situated.

“Really? He already made it to the border?” Mustang asked.

“We believe he left as soon as Fleck caught Morgan,” Armstrong supplied. “He likely knew the jig was up and wanted to save his skin.”

“Truly a coward until the end. I suppose I owe the Fullmetal Alchemist another thank you. Without that boy, I doubt this country would last a week. It seems like there are enemies everywhere.”

“Of course, sir,” Mustang said, keeping his tone as neutral as possible. “Has Morgan woken up? Were we able to get anything from him?”

“No, not yet, but we did contact Colonel Olson,” Bradley said. “According to her, Lieutenant Morgan saw some discrepancies in the year-end reports Fleck and Grieves sent them. They were about ready to write it off as mere embezzlement to buy some nice clothes or jewelry for their mistresses when Fleck announced he was going to reorganize the Records Room. This got Morgan and Olson suspicious enough that she decided to send him undercover to determine what else they were hiding.”

“Of course. Fleck, Harrison, and Bosco are all still alive. One of them will likely tell you what happened and why Fleck was organizing the records in the first place. Fullmetal also recovered a report that discusses the plot in more detail. We’ll have it sent to you as soon as possible.”

Bradley smiled at him. “I’m counting on it. Now, then, colonel, you should get to the hospital. They might need some information from you about Fullmetal’s care.”

Mustang hesitated. “Are you sure, sir? I can help secure the scene?”

Breda and Havoc were leading a very beaten-up Fleck out of the tunnels, practically carrying him. They looked surprised to see Bradley there but quickly covered it up to better secure Fleck, Bosco, and Harrison.

“I’m sure. With Lieutenant Colonel Hughes and Major Armstrong here, we can handle it. Can’t we, major?”

“Um, of course, sir,” Armstrong said, saluting him.

Mustang wanted to argue with Bradley. Of course, he wanted to be by Ed’s side and help him heal. He hated hospitals in the best of circumstances. But every time Bradley gave him an order or told him to do something, it made his skin crawl.

Still, he couldn’t find a good reason to argue against it. And the more he did, the more suspicious Bradley would be. It was best to only deal with one conspiracy at a time.

“Of course, sir. Thank you, sir. Contact me if you need my help.” He saluted and then walked off towards the hospital.

His own body felt a bone-deep weariness that begged him to simply go to sleep. It was still so early in the morning. People had only just now begun to wake up. There were still so many things he needed to do. For now, though, what he wanted to do was make sure Ed was okay, and sit by his bedside with Al until he woke up.

Chapter Text

Ed didn’t know how long he was asleep. It could have been days. Weeks. Months. Years. It didn’t matter. However long it was; it wasn’t enough. He came too slowly with bone-deep exhaustion he had only ever felt a few times in his life: the day after mom died, the day after the failed attempt to bring her back, and the intense and long process of automail surgery.

His body felt sore. Everything hurt with this sort of sharp, shooting pain that he knew all too well. No matter how he tried to lay, it wouldn’t go away. Lay on his back and his legs would hurt. Lay on his side and his chest would hurt. Lay on his stomach and his back and shoulders would hurt. All he could do was shiver as coughs wracked his body and sent the sensation of knives stabbing through his lungs and head.

“Brother?” The voice was soft, gentle, and far away.

Al. Al was here. He needed… there was something about Al that he needed to worry about. He pulled himself towards that voice, desperate to see if Al was okay. He couldn’t be okay. Otherwise, why would Ed be in so much pain and feel so panicked at the sound of his voice?

“Fullmetal, it’s okay. Don’t strain yourself.” This one was much deeper. Comforting. Soothing like a warm campfire on a crisp autumn evening.

He didn’t listen to it. He wanted to open his eyes. He wanted to be aware of what was happening. Things were starting to come back to him in slow chunks. A flash of an image of a phone booth here. The sound of water dripping in the sewers there. His throat hurt. He knew that. His lungs hurt. There was a pain in his right shoulder. He remembered hearing the sound of a gunshot. A gunshot. Was he shot?

“Brother, it’s okay. You can stay asleep.”

No. He couldn’t. He had to… Al, something about Al. Someone was after Al.

He tried to talk; tried to force his tongue to make words. Something was blocking him. It felt like something was in his throat. He jerked up his right arm to try and remove it, only to let out a pained whine with the shoulder hurt and no right arm came up.

A hand was on his left shoulder. The fingertips were calloused and it was broad but not as broad as Al’s gloves.

“Stop, before you hurt yourself.” Mustang. That was Mustang who was talking to him.

“Brother, please, it’s okay. You need to rest.” Al sounded so worried. His voice wobbling just enough for Ed to know he had been very worried. Likely about him. He didn’t know much about what was going on, but he pieced together that he had been shot and was now in a hospital. Even he wasn’t stupid enough to pretend that didn’t warrant some worry on his brother’s part.

Still, he wanted to wake up. He wanted to know what happened to Al. Something had to have happened to him. He had to be hurt in some way.

“N—” He couldn’t even say a simple ‘no’. His tongue wouldn’t cooperate with him.

The right hand was a bust so he brought up his left to try and rip out whatever was in his throat. That was the reason he wasn’t able to talk. He’d feel better if he got it out.

Mustang caught his flailing left hand in his own and held tight enough so that Ed couldn’t escape his grasp, but not so tightly that it hurt.

“Oh no, you don’t. None of that now. The tube stays in until the doctors say it can be removed. Just keep resting, Fullmetal. Don’t worry, Al’s safe. You did good, kid.”

He may have imagined that last part. It was something Mustang would have never said. And the way he said it… Ed could only describe it as a mix of relief, pride, and a slight bit of worry that had yet to fully leave him. But why? What did Mustang have to be worried about?

He wanted to keep fighting his body’s desire to sleep and wake up fully. He had yet to see Al. But, if Mustang said that Al was fine, then maybe he was fine? He trusted him to keep his brother safe when he couldn’t. He trusted Mustang not to lie to him about Al. If only because he knew Ed would eventually find out the truth and put an automail fist through his skull if he lied.

Are you even real? He wondered as he let sleep overtake him once more.

The last thing he felt was Mustang’s hand running through his hair.

The last thing he heard was Mustang’s voice telling him he did a good job, and he was proud of him.

*****

The next time he woke up, he felt a lot better; a lot more clearheaded. That was both good and bad. Good because he now remembered fully what happened. Bad because he now remembered fully what happened. And felt everything that came with it.

Morgan’s murder, Harrison or Bosco shooting him in the shoulder, the hours he spent in the cold rain, Fleck beating him and then trying to strangle him to death. He felt everything a thousand times more than when his adrenaline was numbing his body. Maybe sleep wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

Something must have tipped off Al that he was awake because, in a flash, there was a hand in his hair. He gently worked through the strands, just like mom used to do when he was sick. He was even humming softly. It was a sort of nonsense tune he likely made up on the spot. Good, Mustang hadn’t lied. Al was fine.

Fleck hadn’t managed to get to him and kill him. Hopefully, that meant he hadn’t managed to get to Mrs. Garcia either. Ed would never forgive himself if anyone else got hurt because of what he discovered.

“You’re okay, brother. Everything is okay.”

Was it selfish of him to wish that Mustang was also here? He remembered, that the last time he woke up, he had run his fingers through his hair and held his hand. He wanted that now. Or… maybe Mustang wasn’t even in Central?

No, he remembered him in the sewers. He punched Fleck in the face. He remembered. He did make it. So, why wasn’t he here? Or was he here and letting Al comfort him now that he was more awake?

He pushed these thoughts away. He didn’t need Mustang here, comforting him like he was some scared child. It was bad enough that Al had to take on this burden. He wouldn’t force it on anyone else. Speaking of Al, he should also reassure his little brother that he was alright and not to worry. And he was alright. Granted, Morgan was dead and he’d never be able to close his eyes again without seeing his bloody and broken body on the floor of the records room, but that was his problem to sort out. Not Al’s.

He licked his lips. That stupid tube they put in his throat was gone.

“Al?” He hated how weak and raspy his voice was. That’d just make Al worry more.

“Brother! You’re awake! I wasn’t sure but you started moving and I hoped you were awake because you’ve been asleep for a while. But, if you need to sleep some more, please do. The doctor said the best thing you can do right now is rest—”

He let Al’s ramblings fade into the background. He loved it when Al would ramble on like this, a perfect source of white noise to prove that his brother was still here, still holding on. The blood seal hadn’t broken and he still had a chance to get him back to normal. He opened his eyes so he could see him. It was bright in the room. Too bright. It made his head hurt. He closed them again. There were spots in his vision, an after-image of the stupid hospital room he was forced to stay in once more.

“Is it too bright? Oh, hang on. I’ll close the curtains and turn off the lights. Sorry, I didn’t think about that.”

“It’s fine,” he said softly.

Al didn’t respond, instead of moving around the room. He heard the familiar whir of blinds shutting. Even with his eyes closed, he could tell Al had closed the curtains.

“There. Is that better?”

He opened his eyes again. It was still way too bright. The sun was shining so strongly that it seemed like the blinds were nothing more than tissue paper for it to pierce through. It was only made worse by the shiny white hospital room he was staying in. The light reflected off of every surface, multiplying it by tenfold. He blinked several times until finally, the light was manageable. Eventually, it became more manageable and he was able to keep his eyes open.

Al waited patiently through the entire ordeal; standing like a statue at his side while Ed struggled to get his bearings.

“How long—” He coughed and gratefully took the water Al had at the ready. He sipped through the straw, feeling grateful as the cool water soaked his parched throat. Who knew being strangled caused so much trauma to the throat? He felt like he had swallowed a cheese grater. When he was done drinking, he started coughing again. Great, hacking coughs that ended up with him spitting up a glob of disgusting mucus. Al gave him another cup to spit it in.

This really couldn’t get any worse, could it?

“You have pneumonia, so you need to get all the mucus out. The doctors aren’t sure if it was caused by you staying out in the rain for several hours or when Fleck tried to…”

He looked away from Ed and went to deposit the gross mucus in the trash. Fuck, he hated this so much. It was bad enough that he was in the hospital, but now Al was having to take care of him like he was some invalid. He brought up his hand to the missing right arm. He really couldn’t do anything without an arm and a leg. He was just as useless as Fleck and the others thought he was.

“How long was I out?” he said, desperate to get off the topic of his failure and onto… well, something that was just as depressing.

“Only for a few days,” Al said, coming back over to his side. “Not very long at all.”

He rolled his eyes as best as he could in his state and glared at Al.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, brother. You and I both know you’ve been unconscious for much longer. Anyways, they had to do surgery to remove the bullet in your shoulder. The doctors said there’s no sign of brain damage from when he…” He looked away once more, fiddling with some bolts on the armor. “You know. Tried to strangle you.” He said this so softly Ed barely heard it.

But he knew. He knew what Al was getting at. He had fucked up, badly, and almost died because of it. What’s worse, he kept Al in the dark about this whole thing. He didn’t tell Al anything, didn’t even call him when he was in the library. He was probably furious at Ed. He should be furious at Ed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” It was barely a whisper. The fact that he heard it over the hustle and bustle of the hospital was a miracle. That one sentence did more for his guilt than anything else Al could have said.

And the way he said it. If he had yelled at him, demanded answers, and stormed out of the hospital room, Ed could have handled it. But this? He didn’t sound like he was simply worried, he sounded… betrayed.

What’s worse was that nothing he said would fully justify his actions or choices over the past few weeks. He didn’t tell Al because of his pride. He didn’t tell Al because he knew that Al would look at him like all those other people on the train looked at him; like a little kid who couldn’t be trusted to make any decisions. Whether or not that was true was beside the point. In Ed’s head, he thought that Al wouldn’t see him as an equal. And he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t see him as an equal. He wished he could brush Al off and tell him that it was nothing, not to worry about it. He wished he could pretend like he had some grand plan that required Al to not be a part of it. But… that was a lie. There was no plan. There was a reason to worry. And Al deserved to know the truth.

Besides, it wasn’t like Ed could argue with him now. He almost died. Mustang had to haul his ass from East City to save his ass from some weak-ass colonel. Morgan fucking died. Mrs. Garcia was nearly tortured. He had fucked up. He had proven, to everyone including himself, that he was weak. He didn’t deserve to hide from this. Not anymore.

“Look, Al… I—I didn’t say anything because I’m…” He sighed and hung his head. He couldn’t look him in the eyes. “I’m useless like this. Worthless. People whisper about me and treat me like I’m not even there. They talk to me like I’m five. They treat me like I’m about to keel over and die and I hate it.”

Al stayed beside him, quietly waiting for him to finish up. Damn, he was hoping he’d interject and say something. What he wanted him to say, he didn’t know. He just knew he hated feeling his presence beside him, watching over him, looming over him.

“I was afraid that if I came to you if I told you what I saw, you might… think the same thing. You might treat me the same.”

Finally, Al made a move, sitting on his bed beside him. He reached out to wrap an arm around his shoulder, only to hesitate and drop it. Ed made no move to hug him either.

“You’re not worthless like this. Or weak. How could you even think that?”

He gestured to the tubes, wires, and bandages covering his body. “Does this look like the body of a capable person to you?”

Al sputtered for several seconds before finally blurting out, “Yes! I… I had no idea. Brother, how could you think that I thought you were useless or had the mentality of a five-year-old? You’re my big brother. I don’t need you to prove yourself to me.”

He couldn’t tell if Al was mad at him, the situation, Fleck, all three, or something else entirely.

He shook his head. “No… that’s not it. I didn’t want to prove myself to you. I wanted to… I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. I guess I was worried that I was overcorrecting. Like, I wanted to prove myself so I was looking for conspiracies where there were none. I didn’t want you to get caught up in my bullshit because I was being stupid.”

“But there was a conspiracy, brother. And you nearly got killed for it. I had to wait, at the entrance of the tunnels while the colonel and the others went to get you because my footsteps would be too loud. I got a call from Breda at night in that stupid code Lieutenant Hawkeye made us learn and I couldn’t go look for you. I don’t care if you were looking for conspiracies where there were none. I’ll follow you wherever you think we need to go. I don’t want to lose you.”

This time, Al threw caution to the wind and wrapped his arms around Ed, holding him tightly. The metal of the armor was sharp and jagged, hardly good for hugging. But to Ed, it was the best hug in the world. He even thought he could feel the faint hum of energy in it, proof that his brother’s soul was alive and well.

“You’re not worthless or weak or useless or whatever you think about yourself. You took down Bosco and Harrison, exposed Fleck and Grieves, and saved lives. And you did it all without a stupid arm or leg. I don’t know anyone else who could do that.”

Another pang of regret and misery wormed its way through Ed’s body. Did Al know about Morgan? He should know. Everyone should know about Morgan. If it weren’t for him, Ed would have never known about Fleck. He deserved to be recognized.

“Not Morgan. I couldn’t save him.” He’d never be able to forget the sound of Morgan being beaten to death. He didn’t know if he ever wanted to forget Morgan. Did he have a family? Were they here in Central now for the funeral? He hoped Morgan got at least a few medals and a new title for his sacrifice. It was only fair. If Mustang wasn’t too pissed at him after all of this, maybe he could convince the man to petition for one.

Al pulled back. “Brother, Lieutenant Morgan is alive. He’s here in the hospital now.”

Ed furrowed his brows. He thought he remembered Mustang saying something about that back at the tunnels before he passed out. He didn’t think it was true though. He was still in the throes of an adrenaline rush turned panic attack while bleeding out and hacking up sewer water. He was ninety percent sure the whole thing was a hallucination to ease his guilty conscience.

“Seriously? But… I saw them beat him to death. His blood got all over my clothes. How did he survive?”

Al shrugged. “I don’t know all the details, but he’s alive. I promise. I saw him the other day when we brought you in. And, after talking to the colonel, I know you both are considered heroes for exposing the plot.”

He looked away and back down at the sheets. He didn’t feel like much of a hero. What did he do besides run away and call Mustang for help? Nothing. He did nothing. And as much as he felt relief that Morgan was alive, he also felt a thrill of fear working its way through his veins. He’d have to know that Ed had originally pointed the finger at him. He had to know that he was the one that exposed Morgan coming down to the Records Room several times which pushed Fleck to get rid of him by any means possible. If he hadn’t pointed the finger at him, Morgan might not be in the hospital now.

“Does he… does he know I’m here as well?” Ed asked tentatively. The last thing he wanted to do was to be confronted by the man he had nearly killed, albeit in an indirect way. Not that he could blame Morgan. Again, it was kind of Ed’s fault for exposing him in the first place.

Al stood up and started fussing around with the water cup again, forcing it into Ed’s hands. “I don’t know. I’m guessing he probably does since the Colonel has been in and out for much of the week. Oh! I should let you know, I called Winry. She’ll be here in a week.”

Ed grasped this change of subject with both hands. If Morgan did know he was here, then confrontation was inevitable. The very least he could do now was ignore it and deal with it when the time came. Besides, there was no need to worry Al. Ed would deal with Morgan alone.

“Really?” He groaned and gratefully took the cup of water from him. “You couldn’t have kept her in the dark for a little while longer? You know she’s going to launch a wrench through my skull. That’s just going to keep me in the hospital longer.”

Another round of hacking coughs rattled his chest and brought up more disgusting mucus to be spat out and disposed of.

“Brother,” Al sighed, “the bullet messed with the wiring. The sooner she can fix it, the better. Besides, she has your arm and leg all ready to go! Except,” he looked away, slightly ashamed, “it’s probably going to be a little longer before you can put them on.”

“Ugh, what now?”

Al pinched his thigh, causing him to yelp.

“Don’t you ‘what now’ me! You know ‘what now’. You have pneumonia, a concussion, blood loss, dislocated shoulder, five broken ribs, two cracked ones—”

“Alright, alright, I get it. Fleck kicked my ass and now I’m probably on a shit-ton of pain killers.” He shifted a bit in the bed, a ripple of pain running through his body. “Not strong enough though.”

Al narrowed his eyes. “You know what, I don’t think you get it. I’m going to go get the colonel so that he can make you get it.”

He groaned. “No, Al, please! He’s going to yell at me. I don’t think I can take it. Please, I’m missing an arm and a leg and am stuck in the hospital. Tell him I’m still asleep.”

“He only yells at you when you’re being stupid, brother. And face it, you were very stupid.”

Before Ed could get out another word, Al was out the door to hunt down Mustang. Great. Just great. First Winry, then Morgan, and now Mustang. He was going to be lucky to make it out of this hospital alive with how many people were angry with him at the moment. He hoped these walls were at least a little sound-proofed, for the other guests of course. Maybe he should preemptively ask the doctors to give him hearing aids. Mustang was going to make him go deaf with how loud he could get.

The bastard must have been in the building because Al returned not long afterward. He walked in, smirking like the bastard he was, holding a steaming cup of coffee in one hand. Despite his smirk and the way he held himself, Ed could tell he had had a rough few nights. His hair was slightly disheveled, his uniform was rumpled, and his skin looked a bit wavy and pale. There were dark circles under his eyes and his right hand was bandaged, several of the fingers taped together.

Despite his appearance, he wasted no time sauntering into the room and insulting Ed. “Hello, pipsqueak. How are you feeling?”

“I’m not short,” Ed mumbled back. His head was still a little too fuzzy to kick his ass properly and he was bracing for the oncoming barrage of shouting that was only seconds away from happening.

Surprisingly, Mustang didn’t yet. His eye didn’t twitch like it normally did when he was upset with Ed. Nope. He simply reached out and ruffled his hair with a deep chuckle. “Yes, you are. The sooner you accept this, the sooner you can finally move on and be happy.”

“Whatever,” Ed said, trying and failing to duck away from Mustang’s stupid hand. It did feel nice, though. And he remembered Mustang running his hand through his hair before. This is what he wanted. This is what he needed. Not that he’d ever tell Mustang that.

“So, are you going to yell at me or what?” He glared up at him, daring him to start his tirade. He didn’t want to put this off any longer.

Mustang smirked even harder. He didn’t even know that was possible. “Now, Edward, why ever would I need to yell at you?” His hand continued to run through his hair. It was so repetitive and gentle; it might have put Ed to sleep if he wasn’t so on edge.

“You know why, bastard.”

“Hmm, I don’t believe that I do. Alphonse, can you enlighten me as to what your brother could have possibly done to warrant the need for me to yell at him?”

Al, the traitor, laughed. “I don’t know, sir. Brother, why do you think the colonel should yell at you?”

He had to have been mad. There was no possible way he wasn’t mad. But he was still running his fingers through his hair, gently working through the knots, scratching at the scalp so softly but just enough to soothe him even more.

“I’m not going to spell it out for you,” he grumbled.

“Oh, I see. You think I should yell at you, because even after I made it perfectly clear that I wanted these four weeks to be the most boring four weeks of your life, I still got a call at nine at night so that I could hear Fleck threaten you, me, Al, Hughes, then got to sit back and listen as you did something to him and were shot at. Several hours later, I arrive in Central to find out you apparently broke into the records room, found a potential spy, got caught by the actual spies, and were now running all over Central to try and avoid them. Then I had to track you down to the sewer system below Central where my hardworking team and I had to confront said spy and then rush you to the hospital before you died from blood loss and hypothermia. Tell me, Edward, does that sound like a boring four weeks to you?”

“The first few weeks were boring,” he mumbled, knowing there wasn’t anything he could say to defend himself.

Mustang hummed and finally dropped his hand. “I didn’t say the first few weeks. I said all four weeks.”

“So… how mad are you?” He asked tentatively. Despite what he said, Mustang didn’t seem to be that upset. It was kind of confusing. He felt like there should be more yelling. Why wasn’t there more yelling?

“Pretty mad, both at you and with Hughes.”

“Hughes, why?” Ed said, looking up at him.

“Because you stumble in on a conspiracy and he doesn’t tell me? Needless to say, there will be a lot of yelling with him.”

“But not with me?”

Mustang shrugged and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Not really. You’re a trouble magnet and it sounds like you tried to do the right thing and tell people so they could take care of it.”

“I didn’t mean to find anything. I just forgot my coat,” he mumbled again, miserably.

Mustang looked at him, shocked for a brief second, and then burst out laughing.

“Only you, Fullmetal, can stumble into a dangerous conspiracy because you forgot your coat. I’ll yell at you some more later. For now, get some rest. You’re getting a medal by the way.”

Ed furrowed his brows. “Why?”

“Because you saved the Fuhrer’s life. And the lives of several other generals.”

“So that’s why you’re not yelling at him,” Al said. “You want to get some of the credit as well.”

Mustang started sputtering and it made Ed laugh, even though it hurt his ribs to do so.

“Al, can you give us a second,” he said as Mustang struggled to regain his composure.

Al hesitated, looking between the two and nodding. “Alright. I should probably find a doctor to come check up on you and make sure everything’s okay. Brother, don’t antagonize the colonel.”

Mustang smirked.

“Colonel, don’t antagonize brother.”

His smirk dropped.

He stepped out the door and left them in silence. Outside, Ed could hear beeping from machines, doctors being paged over the intercom, and soft conversations as people walked by his room.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Mustang asked, breaking the silence.

He looked down at his hand. The thing was, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to talk to him about. He just knew he wanted him here, in the room with him.

“You look like shit,” he said. When in doubt, insult.

Mustang laughed and moved up so he was sitting next to Ed, his feet kicked up on the bed. “Yeah, that tends to happen when you sleep in a hospital for a week.”

He furrowed his brows and looked toward him. “You slept here? Why? Were you injured too?”

Mustang threw an arm around Ed’s shoulders and pulled him in close. The heat from his body chased away the chill in Ed’s bones he didn’t even realize was there. It had been a week since he had wandered out in the rain for several hours, but it was like he had just stepped inside.

“Maybe because my idiot subordinate decided it was a good idea to try and take on a conspiracy by himself?”

He didn’t think… Mustang stayed for him? He didn’t think he was important enough for him to do that. Surely, he would have been more comfortable staying at a hotel or something.

“Stop that,” Mustang ordered.

“Stop what?”

“Thinking negatively about yourself. We’ve been through this. You aren’t weak, and you aren’t useless or worthless. Well, maybe you’re weak now. Pneumonia will do that to you. But other than that, you aren’t worthless. I’ll say it as many times as I need to.”

“But, I couldn’t deal with Fleck by myself. I had to call you for help.”

“Ouch. You make it sound like I was your last resort.”

Ed shrugged, once more feeling like a pathetic child. He was more or less his last resort. Mainly because he was so far away and wouldn’t be much help on the phone.

Mustang sighed. His thumb rubbed Ed’s shoulder in yet another repetitive motion that made him want to fall asleep.

“Do I wish you had called me before you were cornered in a phonebooth by a traitor who was trying to kill you? Yes. Yes, I do. Does that mean that I’m not proud of you or how you handled the situation? No. Not it does not.”

This finally got Ed to look at him, really look at him; shocked at the words that were coming out of his mouth.

“You’re—”

“Of course, Fullmetal. The way you handled the situation was exactly how you needed to handle it based on the circumstances and the information you had. Part of it is my fault. I gave you my number, but I should have also told you how to contact Armstrong or some other people in case you needed help and Hughes wasn’t available. I’m proud of you.”

He felt his cheeks heat up. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had said they were proud of him. Maybe teacher? That was… that was nice. He didn’t realize how much he needed to hear those words until now.

“Come on. Let me hear you say it.” Mustang interrupted his thoughts.

“Say what?”

“That you’re not worthless, weak, or useless. You brought down a government conspiracy. You took out two of the traitors on your own and were able to stall long enough for backup to arrive. If you still think missing an arm and a leg makes you worthless, we’re going to have to work on that. So come on, before I get the men in on it and you have to sit through an eight-hour presentation by Havoc and Fuery about how amazing you are, with snide commentary by Breda and awkward compliments by Falman.”

He bit his lip to hide the grin threatening to break out on his face. “Fine, bastard. I’m not weak.”

“Or worthless.”

He let out a huff and pinched Mustang’s thigh.

“Brat, say it or I’ll go get Havoc right now.”

“Or worthless or helpless or anything else.”

Mustang nodded, satisfied with his answer. “Good. Don’t take this to mean that I approve of what you did. If you so much as look at taking on another spy ring by yourself I’ll stick you in the archives of East City for the rest of your military career. But, for now, just know that you did good, kid. I’m proud of you.”

Ed smiled and settled more into Mustang’s side. “Thanks. And thanks for coming. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been on the other end of the phone.”

“Don’t think about that. Just think about the fact that I was on the other end of the phone and I did come to help you.” The tight way he said it suggested that Mustang had likely spent several sleepless nights picturing that exact scenario and came to the horrifying conclusion that Ed may have died in those tunnels.

He decided not to argue with him on this one. He looked exhausted and probably needed some sleep. He stayed quiet and let the white noise of the hospital fill the room once more. By the time Al came back with the doctor, both Ed and Mustang were fast asleep.

Chapter Text

He didn’t know how much he needed to see Ed awake and coherent until it had happened. The stress that had been steadily building, the rising tension as Mustang kept questioning whether or not he had actually managed to save Ed, and whether or not the kid would survive, had done a number on him. Mind, body, and soul. He liked to pretend he wasn’t affected by this. He put on a smile whenever anyone stopped by to talk about the case and what it would mean for Ed and his team.

They were talking about medals.

Mustang didn’t care.

They were talking about executions.

He cared a little. But, as far as he was concerned, justice had been served to Fleck and the others in that tunnel.

The only thing he cared about, the only thing he could care about, was Ed and making sure he was alright.

So, when the kid opened his eyes, actually opened his eyes, Mustang almost couldn’t stop the flood of tears that were brought about because of the overwhelming amount of relief he felt. He did stop them, mind you. He didn’t think Ed would care much to have his superior officer sobbing all over him about how he thought he was dead. Besides, the feeling alone was enough to take the strength away from his legs, hence why he had to sit on the bed.

Whoever said fear was the strongest emotion didn’t take into account the overwhelming sense of relief that followed.

And, when Ed didn’t immediately bite off his head, he decided to push his luck just a little further; tucking the kid under his arm and holding him close. Ed’s body was warm. His heart was beating at a steady rhythm. His breathing, while a little labored because of pneumonia, was consistent and there. He was alive.

He had made it out of this entire ordeal alive and in one piece. Mustang wasn’t sure he’d ever fully be able to let the kid go. And he certainly wasn’t going to be sending Ed to work under anyone else ever again. He didn’t care how many medals the brat managed to scrounge up in the process. His heart couldn’t take another late-night phone call.

He did want to stick around the hospital even longer. The evening he spent sleeping with Ed cuddled up to him and Al reading quietly in the corner wasn’t nearly long enough. However, he had already spent a week there, sleeping on uncomfortable hospital chairs and eating crappy hospital cafeteria food. The rest of the men had been rotating out. Though, the nurses and doctors eventually got tired of their constant presence and said that only family was allowed to stay the night. That meant Alphonse and himself, as the boys’ legal guardian, could sit by his bedside and keep a constant vigil.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the doctors. It was that he didn’t trust his mind. Maybe Ed did die on that phone and now his mind had created this entire scenario to help him deal with the guilt and grief. He had to be in the room with the kid because, if he left, he might never see him again.

But once the kid was up and moving around, he saw no reason to stay there. Besides, he didn’t want to overwhelm him too much. And, Hawkeye was starting to get insistent that he at least go back to the hotel room she had reserved, shower, and sleep in a proper bed.

Finally, after Alphonse practically carried him out of the hospital with the polite yet firm command to get some rest and shower because he still smelled like sewer water (How would the kid even know? He couldn’t smell!), he spent the night in the hotel room.

It was odd how his mind slowly worked through the different emotions this entire scenario had caused.

First, it was a gut-wrenching fear that threatened to overtake him and cause him to freeze. Then there was the calm, almost detached, and clinical natures of actually getting to Ed. Then the anxiety that kept him up at night staring at Ed’s body, trying to make sure he was still breathing; ready to call the doctors the moment something changed. Next was the overpowering feeling of relief to see Ed awake and talking.

He thought those would be the only emotions he would feel. He thought that would be all. Now they could move into a much more normal state and he might actually get some rest. But, while lying on that crappy hotel bed, staring up at the ceiling while the clock on the wall ticked away into the early hours of the morning, a new emotion overtook him.

Anger.

He was pissed. In fact, he was more than pissed, he was furious. Punching Fleck in the face had not been enough. Burning him had not been enough. Seeing Hawkeye shoot him had not been enough. Seeing the aftermath of what Havoc and Breda did to him had not been enough. He wanted to hurt him more for what he did to Ed. He wanted to make him suffer for how he talked to him. He wanted to punish him for every threat he told him.

He wanted to make him feel everything Ed felt ten-fold. And it still wouldn’t be enough. It would never be enough.

The frustrating thing was, that he couldn’t do that now. Fleck, Harrison, Bosco, and Grieves were all under arrest and were going through interrogation. He might be able to pull a few strings and get some one-on-one time with them. But, he knew at the end of the day, it wouldn’t help.

He had felt this kind of rage before, in Ishval. He knew that punching things wasn’t going to help. In fact, it might even make things worse.

Besides, Ed was alive. He was alive and with some soup and rest, he’d be alright. That kid was a fighter. He did not spend the night wandering around Central with a bullet in his shoulder to be taken out by someone as pathetic as Fleck. He could survive. He would survive. Mustang had seen with his own eyes that he had survived. He had talked with the kid and held him in his arms while he drifted off into an uneasy sleep. He had been there for every check-in with the doctor and had only received good news as far as the kid’s condition went. Even Al had kicked him out of the hospital, which meant that he now believed his brother was stable enough to be left alone for a period of time.

That was what he tried to tell himself as he lay on the bed, trying to get some sleep. Ed was fine and there was no reason to be angry anymore. Besides, his anger wasn’t helping anyone and he couldn’t do anything about it.

Except, the longer he ruminated, the angrier he felt. And this time, his anger started to shift to another target.

Make no mistake, if he ever saw Fleck, Bosco, or Harrison again, they’d be ash in seconds. But, that wasn’t who he was angry at now. Oh no, there was still one person he needed to lay into.

The next morning, he got up, showered, and headed to the office. He made some half-hearted attempts to talk himself down, to calm himself down. Every time he tried, the sounds of Ed whimpering on the phone as he tried desperately to figure out a way around Fleck and to safety resounded in his head, clear as day.

He couldn’t get himself to calm down.

He made his way to Hughes’ office. Like always, it was stacked high with paperwork and notes. A few lieutenants were milling about, likely helping him get some paperwork on this whole mess done so they could move on to the next conspiracy.

“Oh, hey, Roy. I heard Ed’s awake. How’s he feeling?” Hughes asked when he stepped into the room. He winced when he saw him. “You look like shit. I thought you finally went to the hotel.”

He sounded like his normal self. It almost made Mustang feel guilty for what he was about to do. Almost. Not really. He was still very much sleep-deprived and try as he might, he had yet to scrub Ed’s blood out from underneath his fingernails. He had to throw away his other uniform because of how soaked in Ed’s blood it was. He tried to wash the stain out in the sink last night. The water turned pink and he nearly threw up.

Needless to say, he wasn’t feeling much.

Hughes seemed to pick up on his mood and ordered the lieutenants to leave them alone for a bit. They looked hesitant but ultimately listened to orders.

Mustang felt like he wasn’t really in the room with them. He felt like he wasn’t really in his body, though he wasn’t sure where the rest of his mind was.

“What’s up? Is Ed okay?”

And that’s when Colonel Roy Mustang snapped. Not literally, of course. But enough that he grabbed Hughes by his collar and slammed a fist in his face.

He hated how good that felt.

“What the fuck?” Hughes said, stumbling back and knocking a bunch of papers off his desk.

“What the hell gives you the right to keep things from me about my kids?” he shouted. Damn, that hurt his hand a lot. He didn’t break it when he gave Fleck a beat down, but Maes must have had a harder head. He probably should have guessed, given how stubborn his friend could be about things.

“What?” He pinched his nose, trying to stop the bleeding. Good. Ed had lost so much blood they needed to give him a transfusion. He had to tell the doctors what blood type the kid was.

“You lied to me! You told me Ed wasn’t up to anything and then I get a call from him, scared out of his mind, and was forced to listen as Fleck threatened and shot at him! I thought he died Hughes!”

Hughes noticeably winced at this. “Look, Roy, I wasn’t trying to keep things from you—”

“Yes, you were! The last time we spoke I noticed you were distracted and called you out on it. I even asked if it had anything to do with Ed and you lied! You said it didn’t!”

“If I had told you would have stormed here and possibly ruined the entire investigation!”

“You don’t get to make that choice, Hughes! You don’t get to decide to put Ed’s life in danger! And, to make matters worse, you knew he was caught up in this and you just left him! He had nowhere to go and no one to call so he called me despite knowing that I was in East City and couldn’t immediately help him! And you didn’t think to tell Al at the very least that something was going on? You didn’t think to tell Ed how to get in contact with Armstrong or my aunt if he was in trouble? You just left and hoped that the fucking spy didn’t find him and shoot him!”

“I didn’t know Fleck was the one behind it. And I had my lieutenants keeping an eye—”

“That’s not good enough!” Roy was towering over him now, which was quite a feat considering he was shorter than Hughes. At least the man had the decency to look somewhat ashamed.

“I don’t think you get it. I was forced to listen to him try and talk his way out of getting shot for several minutes. I had no context for anything, no idea what was going on or why Fleck was threatening him. I then listened as several shots were fired at him! I thought he was dead, Hughes. Do you have any idea what that feels like? Do you even want to imagine what that feels like to think your kid is dead and you just sat there and listened?”

Hughes made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. Hopefully, he was picturing Elicia in Ed’s position to get one smidgen of how Mustang felt.

“And then, I was forced to sit on a train for hours not knowing where he was; if Fleck had found and killed him; if he had decided to kill Al. Nothing. Because you didn’t tell me so I couldn’t plan! I don’t care that I would have lost my head. I don’t care that it would have ruined your investigation. I care that Ed and Al aren’t executed by a fucking traitor because Ed found something he wasn’t supposed to!”

Okay. That was better. He no longer wanted to bludgeon Hughes to death, especially since he was likely now panicking over the thought of Elicia wandering around Central for two hours with a bullet in her while a bunch of people hunting her down like a pack of rabid dogs. Who knew shouting could be as cathartic as punching.

“Look, Roy, I’m sorry. I thought I had everything under control.” Hughes said softly.

He shook his head. “You didn’t. He needed a blood transfusion. The bullet wound is infected. He has pneumonia and can barely breathe. All because you didn’t tell me anything!”

Hughes looked lost. “I was going to tell, you, I promise. I just didn’t want you to jump in before we had all the information.”

“We had enough information to make a plan. You don’t get to decide what I do and don’t know about Ed and Al, especially when their safety is concerned.”

“Look, Roy, I—” He reached out his hand, possibly to put it on his shoulder.

He couldn’t handle that right now. He turned and walked out the door. “I can’t be around you right now, Hughes. I’ll let you know when Ed gets out of the hospital. And I’d be careful around Al right now. He’s also pretty mad at you for keeping this from him.”

A part of him still felt bad for going at Hughes so hard. But another part of him still didn’t feel as if it was hard enough. In his mind, Ed had done everything right. It doesn’t sound like he went looking for trouble, rather trouble found him. He tried to reach out to get help when he needed it. Mustang needed to do a better job at making sure the kid had a wide variety of people he could contact if he needed to. And maybe that was why he was so angry at Hughes.

He sent him to Central City only knowing Hughes. After Tucker, Mustang should have known better. After Tucker, Mustang should have prepared Ed better.

And now he was in the hospital yet again.

He could still hear the sounds of those shots, ringing in the night, and his ears still strained to hear the sound of a small body hitting the ground.

Chapter Text

Ed didn’t see Morgan for the first three days he was awake… well, actually awake. According to Al and Mustang, he had a day or two of going in and out of consciousness as the pain meds and blood loss wore off. Though, according to them, Morgan hadn’t come by either.

Good. He hoped it stayed that way. He hoped he could scurry out of Central before Morgan even remembered his existence. And, by the time he did remember his existence, hopefully, he was back in West City and he and Ed would never meet up again or have any reason to.

It wasn’t that Ed didn’t want to talk to Morgan. He did. He wanted to apologize and tell him that he never meant to be the reason he almost died. He wanted to make him understand that had he known Morgan was innocent, he never would have pointed the finger. He wanted to see him for himself and make sure that he was actually alive; that Mustang and the others weren’t simply lying to him about his survival. He didn’t want to be a coward.

But he also was a coward. Because, no matter how much he wanted to apologize for his mistake, he didn’t want to come face to face with him when he was angry.

Morgan had every right to be angry, of course. Hell, he had every right to want to strangle Ed with his bare hands after what he put him through. Whatever emotions he was feeling towards him, Ed couldn’t blame him in the slightest. He almost died. And even though he didn’t, being beaten nearly to death and then thrown out in the rain like trash was traumatic enough for anyone.

He had every right to be angry. That didn’t mean Ed wanted to experience it.

And because Morgan never visited Ed in the first place, he could only come to three potential conclusions: 1) He didn’t want to talk to him because of how furious he was. 2) He didn’t know he was in the hospital. Or 3) He was actively being kept from Ed.

Before this whole situation, Ed would have never even considered the third option. But now that he had gone through this whole ordeal he was starting to realize how… overprotective the team could be. Every single one of them. Even Fuery looked like he was willing to throw hands with anyone who tried to hurt him. Hell, after seeing how angry Havoc and Breda were in the sewer, after seeing Mustang punch Fleck’s lights out, he wouldn’t be surprised if they decided to camp out in front of Morgan’s room just to make sure he wasn’t going to be an ass to him.

Something about that made Ed’s insides warm in a way he didn’t want to think too much about at the moment.

Besides, he hoped Mustang and the others weren’t threatening Morgan. If he wanted to talk to him, if he wanted to yell at him, he should be allowed to do that. He almost died. He should be allowed to talk to Ed about what happened.

It was on the fourth day that he decided he was going to ask Mustang straight up if he had seen Morgan and if he was actively keeping him from Ed.

He had spent most of the morning screwing up his courage. It was the rare instance when Ed wasn’t by his side, going to the library to check out more books and call Winry to give her updates. He was practicing what he was going to say to Morgan when (if) the man ever decided to show up.

He had settled on his apology (hopefully heartfelt enough to be believed) and was now practicing it over and over again when he heard some commotion from outside his door.

“Sir, I’m going to have to insist you get back to your room this instance!” A nurse cried. “You are still very injured.” She sounded frazzled.

“Huh, looks like I’m not the only patient given the nurses a hard time, bastard,” he muttered to himself, remembering how last night Mustang had moaned and groaned for nearly an hour about how Ed’s behavior made it so difficult to get phone numbers for a few of the prettier nurses.

“I’m fine. Besides, it’s not like I’m planning on jumping out the window,” Morgan responded.

Ed’s breath caught in his throat. His blood turned to ice. The machine monitoring his heart rate sped up. So, Morgan did want to talk to him and wasn’t being held captive in his room by a very angry Hawkeye. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.

Maybe he should jump out the window.

“Sir, please!”

No, he was still missing a leg. Maybe he could transmute a slide down to the bottom and hop away?

“I’ll be in and out.”

No, that’d look ridiculous. Maybe he could hide under the bed?

Before he could figure out a reason why that particular plan was stupid (and there were several), and before the nurse could strong-arm Morgan back to his room, the door was flung open. He looked just as bruised and beat-up as Ed would expect from a man who was nearly beaten to death. The bruises hadn’t even started to fade and they were all different colors. From sickly yellow-green to nearly black. His right arm was in a sling and it looked as though he had bandages running about his torso.

Morgan’s eyes landed on him. “Shit, kid, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He stepped into the room and slammed the door behind him, right in the face of the nurse.

Ed could hear her make a series of noises that suggested she was trying to figure out what to do and how to handle the situation. The noises eventually stopped and Ed could only assume she decided to let Morgan visit him.

“I thought you were dead!” He blurted out before he could stop himself. Seriously? Who wants to hear how they were presumed dead for like four hours? And what happened to all the apologies he had practiced? He couldn’t even manage one measly little ‘I’m sorry’? Just straight to the death.

Morgan plopped unceremoniously in a chair by Ed’s bedside and stuck a piece of hard candy in his mouth. “Yeah, I heard about that.”

Ed felt like he had whiplash from that statement. He didn’t sound… angry. Did he sound… bored? Resigned? Whatever the case, it didn’t sound like he was going to start yelling. Shit, this was not how Ed planned for things to go down. Should he apologize anyways? Yeah, that was probably a good idea.

“Damn, I could use a smoke,” he continued, seemingly oblivious to Ed’s internal panic and debate. “They won’t let me in here, though. Says it’s bad for my lungs. I get one a day and need to be wheeled to that ‘smoking section’. Like I can’t use my damn legs.”

“It is bad for your lungs,” he replied, not knowing what else to say. He’d let Morgan take the lead for now.

“Yeah? So’s sneaking around looking for conspiracy theories by yourself.”

He couldn’t bring himself to look Morgan in the eyes. He was right. And now seemed like the appropriate time to apologize.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“Hmm? Why’s that?”

He could hear the hard candy clacking against his teeth. He wondered if he lost any in Harrison and Bosco’s assault.

“I told Fleck I saw you break into the room. I’m the reason he and the others tried to kill you.” He felt like he was digging his grave deeper and deeper with each word. He didn’t know why he felt this need for Morgan to know exactly what part he played in his near-death, but he needed him to know. He needed him to understand.

“Eh, it’s not your fault.” He shrugged.

Ed’s head shot up. “What do you mean it’s not my fault? If I hadn’t told him—”

“Fleck was already suspicious of me. Had been since the day I showed up. Besides, you didn’t know any better. You saw me break into a classified room and did what any reasonable person would have done. And what was I supposed to do? Pull you aside and say ‘hey, kid, I know we don’t know each other but I have reason to suspect Fleck and Grieves are up to something. I’ll be sneaking in and out of the records room for a while so be a dear and don’t say anything’? Yeah, right. You saw me doing shady shit. You did the right thing and reported it to a superior officer. It’s just my luck that the superior officer was also the person I was investigating for treason.”

That was a reasonable argument, Ed supposed.

“But… you almost died. I watched as Bosco and Harrison tried to beat you to death and did nothing to stop it. I should have intervened. I should have tried to fight them. You only survived because you were lucky. You shouldn’t have to rely on luck to stay alive.”

“Shut up,” Morgan scoffed. “You did the right thing staying out of the fight like that. There was no way for you to know if they had some backup on the way or something. What would have happened if you had burst out of where ever you were hiding like a bat out of hell, took down Bosco, Fleck, and Harrison, and then another soldier stumbled in on it?”

He didn’t answer.

“You would’ve been shot. That’s what.” He pointed his finger at Ed, looking gravely serious and not the least bit mad. “You did the right thing. Quit beating yourself up.”

“But—”

“No buts. Damn, kid, you got yourself a martyr complex. I knew what I was getting into. Granted, I’m not a spy, I’m an accountant. In all honesty, I shouldn’t have even been the one here in the first place. I can barely shoot a gun.”

Ed furrowed his brows. “Really?”

“Yeah, kid. Barely passed basic training because of it. Colonel Olson’s boss had to put in a special recommendation just for me because I’m good with numbers, but shit with the physical stuff.”

“So that’s how you found out about Fleck and Greives? Because something was off with their numbers?”

He nodded. “There were some discrepancies in their expense reports. It was small enough and spread out enough that it could almost be written off as a miscalculation. That kind of shit happens all the time if you’re doing it by hand and aren’t me. But, something didn’t sit right with me so I did some digging into all their past reports from the last ten years and found that the numbers were always off by the exact same amount. So, I think embezzlement and bring it up to Colonel Olson. She’s about to call in the investigation squad when Fleck announces he’s reorganizing the Record’s Room. We both think that’s fucking suspicious as shit and decide to see what he’s up to. I go, overhear Fleck telling Bosco and Harrison they have to find the file. Then I start looking for it as well. I never thought he was planning to assassinate the Fuhrer himself. That’s pretty ballsy.”

“How’d the file even end up down there anyway?” Ed asked.

Morgan shrugged. “Got taken down there by accident by a lieutenant that didn’t know any better. Harrison sang like a canary pretty quickly. Fleck was trying to find it before anyone else.”

Ed nodded. “I’m still sorry that you almost died. And that I annoyed you so much during the day.”

Morgan let out a laugh. “Eh, you didn’t annoy me.”

“Really? You always seemed so grumpy.”

“I was going through nicotine withdrawals, staying up late every night trying to find a stupid file, stressed out because I am not cut out for anything more exciting than recalculating an expense report, and I had to listen to Harrison give me shit for having a man for a partner. Trust me, kid, you were not the problem. Besides, it was pretty badass what you did to take them all down. I hear you kicked Fleck in the balls.”

Ed let out a snort. “Yeah, my teacher always told me ‘make it so they can’t have kids or don’t bother fighting at all’.”

“Smart. Think she could give me lessons? I’m being serious when I say I suck at the physical stuff.”

Ed laughed. “She’d destroy you.”

“Probably. Still, I wish I would have been there to see it.”

“If Fleck’s still alive after Hughes’ interrogation, maybe we can ask if we can recreate it.”

Morgan started howling with laughter. He wrapped the arm, not in a sling around his torso but made no attempts to stifle it despite his obvious pain. “That’d be amazing. I doubt they’d let us do it, though.”

“How did they not know you were still alive, though? I thought Bosco checked for a pulse.”

“She’s a fucking idiot, that’s why. The dumbass was checking for my pulse on my goddamn collar bone. Honestly, I’m surprised that group of idiots hadn’t gotten caught earlier. Who leaves evidence of a coup in their office where it can potentially be seen by anyone who’s not in on the plot?”

“Idiots?”

Morgan grinned at him. “Idiots.”

The door opened. “Brother, I just got off the phone with Winry and she said— Oh, hello,” Al said upon seeing Morgan in the chair next to Ed.

“Hey, I’m Morgan. You must be the brother. Al? Right?”

“Yes, sir,” Al said glancing at Ed.

“Don’t call me sir. Makes me sound so fucking old.”

“Oh… um…”

Morgan pulled himself out of his chair. “I should probably get going anyways. That nurse is going to have an aneurism if I’m out of bed for much longer. Thanks for your help, kid. Sorry, you met me under such bad circumstances. I promise I’m not normally this pissed off.”

“No, it’s fine. I get it,” Ed said. And he did. He couldn’t pretend like he also wasn’t in a horrible mood most of the time because of his prosthetics.

“See you around, kid.” Morgan waved to him and slipped out the door.

“See ya.” Once he was gone, Ed turned back to Al. “What’d you say about Winry?”

“Oh, she’ll be here in a few days with your limbs. Then you can finally get them back on. Isn’t that exciting?”

He smiled at his brother, feeling much more confident and collected than before. “Yeah, Al. I’m ready to get out of Central and back on the road. Nothing good ever seems to happen to us here.”

“That’s only because you can’t stay out of trouble.”

He decided not to dignify that with a response. Besides, he was feeling too happy to get into a petty argument. Maybe if Mustang decided to drop by again, he’d feel inclined to start something, but for now, he just wanted to enjoy Al’s company and the knowledge that even without his limbs, everything worked out for the best.

*****

To say the last few days had been better now that Ed was awake would have been a complete lie. One would think that knowing the kid was safe, sound, and not suffering from any major complications would allow Mustang to rest easy, but that wasn’t the case. Now that he knew that Ed was safe, sound, and not suffering from any major complications his mind could focus on other things. Like how badly he had fucked up.

Yes, Fleck was to blame for the bulk of this situation. If he hadn’t been a traitorous ass hat then maybe Ed wouldn’t have ended up in the sewers at one in the morning. (Please ignore the fact that Mustang was also planning on being a traitorous ass hat. The difference between him and Fleck was that he was organized.)

And Hughes was partially to blame for the situation as well. He didn’t tell Mustang what was up and he didn’t give Ed any resources to turn to should he need help.

That being said, Mustang was also at fault for this situation. He should have never sent Ed and Al to Central with only Hughes as a contact. He should have given him instructions on how to get to Armstrong’s place, his aunt’s bar, hell even the safehouse near Central they sometimes used. Anything other than what he did do!

At the time, handing over his personal phone number had felt like all that was necessary. The kid was only going to be organizing records for a few weeks under the command of quite possibly the most boring man in Central.

He should have known better.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Ed and Al to stay out of trouble. It was that he didn’t trust trouble to stay away from Ed and Al.

It was his own naiveté that nearly got Ed killed. It was his own hubris. The belief that his command was enough to keep trouble away for four weeks. And Ed paid the price for it.

Sure, he put on a façade whenever he went to visit the boys. They didn’t need to know how much he hated himself for putting them in yet another dangerous situation with nowhere to turn. But in private, in his hotel room, he was forced to reconcile with the fact that, once again, no matter how much power he held, he was merely a human and most things were outside of his control.

He hated that feeling almost as much as he hated the sound of Ed terrified in that phone booth.

There was a knock at the door. Strange, Hawkeye should be at the office right now trying to talk the Furher out of a public ceremony presenting Fullmetal and Morgan with medals for their part in uncovering the plot. Mustang did not want to try and wrestle Ed into a uniform. He had a feeling trying to grab a greased pig would be easier.

He opened the door and was surprised to see Hughes on the other side, a bruise blossoming on his jaw. Right, he did sort of deck the man in the face. He’d have to apologize for that.

“Roy, look, I’m—”

“I’m sorry,” Mustang said before he could continue with whatever he was trying to say. “For taking out my anger on you and for putting Ed and Al’s safety entirely on you. I should have done a better job giving them connections in Central.”

Hughes let out a hoarse laugh and rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah. I’m sorry too. Can I come in?”

Mustang nodded and stepped to the side.

Once the door closed, Hughes let out a heavy sigh. “Listen, you were right. I shouldn’t have left them on their own and I should have told you what was going on. It’s just… I know how you get with those boys and I wanted you to stay focused.”

He opened his mouth but Hughes held up a hand. “Please, let me finish.”

He nodded.

“When you told me about the phone booth and how much it hurt you to listen to Ed in that situation, it reminded me of Elicia. It made me think of what I would do if I were forced to listen to my daughter go through the same thing. Honestly, Roy, I’m surprised you’re not angrier. Because even just imagining it makes my blood boil. I guess I forget sometimes that Ed and Al, they may be soldiers on paper-- well, not Al but you get what I mean—but that does not make them soldiers in practice. They’re kids and I need to do a better job at treating them that way.”

Mustang sat down on the bed. He felt so exhausted after these past few days. He wondered if the feeling would ever go away. “Like I said, you’re not the only one to blame. I should have never sent them to Central without more information. This… this is all my fault.”

“No, it’s Fleck and Grieve’s fault.” He put a hand on his shoulder. “They’re the ones who tried to execute this stupid plot in the first place.”

“No, they may have been the catalyst, and Ed may have gotten caught up in it regardless, but it is my fault for not giving him the tools necessary to survive if he were in trouble. He ended up in the hospital because I didn’t give him the information that would have kept him safe.”

Hughes let out a hollow laugh and sat next to him. “I have a feeling I’d be arguing with you about this for days and you’d still not change your mind.”

“Your feeling is correct.”

“You and Ed are similar in that respect, I suppose.”

He made a face. “Please, don’t ever compare me to that brat again.”

“Hey, if you want to play dad to those two, you’re going to have to admit that you share some similarities with them. But seriously, Roy, he’s fine. Al’s fine. Fleck and Grieves are set to be executed in a few days. You can relax.”

“I don’t feel like I can,” he said.

“Maybe not now, but one day. Besides, now we know better. Now we can plan better. Next time, we can give Ed and Al the tools and resources they need to survive. It just sucks that this had to be the outcome first.”

Hughes wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Mustang didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. Hughes was right. Next time, he’d give Ed and Al everything they needed to survive. After all, he was lucky there was a next time in the first place.

*****

I can’t believe you,” Winry sighed as she worked on his arm. “I thought this was supposed to be a boring four weeks!”

“It was! It’s not my fault Fleck was being a shady piece of shit.”

He winced as she tightened a bolt. The damage to his shoulder had been minimal, minus the infection, but she still had to come in and do some pretty intense repairs. Which meant she was pissed. Which meant she was being extra rough on putting him back together.

“I still can’t believe you managed to make filing dangerous, brother,” Al sighed. “And he didn’t even tell me!”

He got a wrench in the head for that. “You idiot! Why do you have to try and do everything yourself?”

“I just thought I was being paranoid!”

“Clearly you weren’t!”

He grumbled back a response but it seemed like Winry had better things to do, like continue to torture him with his automail.

“I almost don’t want to give you back your arm and your leg, since you clearly can’t be trusted.”

Al sighed. “Please don’t, Winry. I think the past month has proven just how much brother needs your work.”

“I had everything under control, you guys are overreacting.”

He heard Al snort and could practically hear Winry rolling her eyes.

“Yes, brother. Clearly, you had everything under control which is why the entire team took the midnight train to Central, you were nearly killed in the sewers, and now you’ve been in the hospital for a week.”

Ed would have crossed his arms had he had two arms to cross. Instead, he settled for a glare. “Nobody died and this isn’t even the most I’ve been injured this year!”

“Whatever, idiot. Where are you heading next?”

“I found a promising lead out west that I think we should look into,” Al said. “And we can visit Lieutenant Morgan and Colonel Olson. Colonel Olson wants to meet us since we helped uncover the plot.”

“Out west, eh? Sounds like it’s going to be fun.”

She finished up and Ed sat up, moving his wrist and leg, thankful that he had all his parts back and could better defend himself.

“Oh,” Winry said, “before I finish up, just know that I charged you double.”

“You what?” He whipped around to face her.

“Yes, I met with Lieutenant Morgan. He went over my pricing model and pointed out several areas where I could improve and make an even greater profit. Especially with you. He suggested that every time you break it I increase the cost by 2.3 percent to take into account the emotional damage and stress you cause me.”

“I knew it! I knew he hated me!”

“Brother,” Al sighed.

“Come on, Winry, you can’t be serious? 2.3 percent every time?”

Winry snapped her case shut. “Maybe that will teach you to treat it like it’s disposable. You know most people don’t have to replace their automail completely every month.”

“Lately it feels like it’s been every week,” Al sighed.

“Hey! Don’t take her side, Al! We’re going to be broke if she keeps raising the price!”

Winry laughed. “And I asked Colonel Mustang about it. He also agrees that it’s a fair price.”

“That bastard! He can’t even do math!”

“Brother.”

He knew there was no point in arguing. If Winry wanted to charge him an extra 2.3 percent every time it broke then she would do it. Besides, as much as he hated to admit it, she did have a point. He might not be useless without his automail, but it did make kicking ass a lot easier. From now on, he would try to be more careful so that if he ran into another Fleck, he could be the one to punch his lights out instead of Mustang.

Although, it was nice to know he had so many people willing to help him if he needed it.