Fanfic: Fullmetal Alchemist – rating: T/M – AU

Summary: "…Alright. But you need to do something for me." Equivalent exchange. He rather liked that principle. "What do you want?" He answered without hesitation. "Take me to my brother."

"I'm looking for a patient." He hands a picture and file to the cute skirt behind the desk, along with his identification for the registry. The woman looks at the picture, and a smile of recognition comes to her face.

"Right this way, I'll take you to his room," she tells him, coming around from the main counter. She's dressed in white and pink, a typical candy striper uniform made for comfort and sterility.

The tall, dark featured man nods, and walks after her, down the pristine hallway, towards an elevator. He can feel the uneasiness fill him, rising from the bottom of his stomach; because of a natural dislike of sanitary buildings and the information he was going to deliver to the young man, both.

The young nurse could feel his discomfort, and spoke to fill it. "We're all terribly sorry that so much could happen to one boy, to bring him here. That boy…"

He is grateful for her attempt to distract him. He gives her a generous smile. "You have a kind heart. I'm sure he appreciates that kindness." Unfortunately, if I understand his profile right, he thinks, Edward Elric does not enjoy pity.

She's young, inexperienced; she blushes and smiles back. He wonders if maybe he could get her number before the day is out. Finally, the elevator doors open, and reveal another long hallway. He notes the sign labeling this as the medical ward.

"Did something happen?" he asks quietly.

The nurse tips her head low. "He had an episode." She greets a doctor they pass, and then continues. "He was talking to himself about an exchange for his brother's body when the ward doctor found him."

Mustang grimaced. The report had said the boy was getting better. Now a murder conviction depended on the accounts of—

She halts at a patient door, and he cuts the thought short. "I'll be here to check on you in a little while," she tells him. He nods to her, and watches as she returns to her post. Yes, that phone number sounds like a good idea. But it can wait until after he's done here.

The first thing he notes when the door opens is the smell of disinfectant. He wrinkles his nose at the strength of it. The second is the boy lying on the only bed in the room, asleep, golden hair splayed across the pillow like so many fairy tale princesses. Too bad he's underage, he thinks dryly, then smiles in amusement at the reaction he might get for calling the spitfire a princess aloud.

His smile fades when he sees the thick, soft straps on the boy's wrists, and frowns at the blotted bandages, stretching from the right shoulder and across the exposed chest. With a sigh he sits in the visitor's chair and opens his case file. Nothing to do until the kid wakes up, so he reads.

Thankfully he doesn't wait long. Movement in the bed draws his attention, and he closes the folder. He wants to know how the boy reacts and interacts with the world, to be in a place like this at fifteen. He leans forward in the chair as Edward gives a soft sigh, blinking himself free from the drugged sleep.

The young man blinks again, this time in surprise, as the details of the room become clear. Those light eyes quickly scan the room, seeing everything. They see him, but first settle on the restraints. He tugs at them, but after a twinge of pain he gives up the endeavor. He exhales, and closing his eyes, allowing his head to drop against the pillow.

"What do you want?" he finally asks. His voice is weary.

Mustang straitens into a more formal posture, and coats his voice in a calming tone. "My name is Roy Mustang. I work with the military's investigation branch."

Edward gives a noisy sigh, and opens his eyes to look at him. "I know who you are, bastard. What are you doing here? Where's Hughes? And lose the patronizing voice; it's annoying."

Mustang's smile falters a moment. Those two hazel eyes are far from dull, and he can see them reading every move he makes. Fine, then. No niceties. "Shou Tucker's court date has finally been set. I'm here to check your testimony." He doesn't miss the flicker of anxiety that crosses the boy's face, but watches as it's quickly buried. An interesting response.

"That doesn't sound like your kind of work, Colonel. Where's Hughes?" he asks again.

The skin around his eyes tightens, and Mustang forces it to fit his mask. "Hughes is on vacation. He asked me to look into this case as a favor. And that's ex-colonel."

Edward seems to muse over this information, turning his head to stare at the ceiling. "What do you want me to do?"

He pulls open the file once more and begins searching through the tabs. "All I need is to read your statement to the court. I need you to check and see if any of the details are wrong."

"But what do you want me to do?"

Mustang pulls the section from the file, and looks back to the boy, smirking. "A few of the heads in the committee have been pushing to get him back to active duty in the science department. I would prefer you to be there and give your account personally, and make sure that they never consider that again."

Edward frowns at the ceiling, eyes narrowed in thought. "What makes you think they'd take my word for it?" I've been in here for a few years, is left unsaid.

Mustang's lip twitches in his smirk, eyeing the written statement. "Some things are better strait from the source." If we can convince them you're stable. "There's just enough time to get you in the doctor's good graces"—with a little nudge—"in time for the hearing." If not permanently, long enough to be useful, he thinks.

Edward seems to read his mind, a knowing smirk coming to his face. "…Alright. If I do this, you have to do something for me."

Mustang was expecting this. Equivalent exchange. He remembered the kid's philosophy from their first meeting. "And what is it that you want, Edward?" Edward instantly turned his eyes to the older man's, and Mustang blinked at the resolve he saw.

Edward's answer was instant, without hesitation. "I want to find my brother."