A Time to Break Down

By Frank

A time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
A time to mourn, and a time to dance"
Ecclesiastes

Author's Notes: My brief foray into anime. There will not be, as of yet, any Japanese terms, not out of laziness but of fear that I would use it incorrectly. This is not intended to slash, but people always look at something one way and so I will not stop your interpretation of the matter. This came about from an idea of what exactly does Ed do on the third of Ocober.

Notes: Er, I am hoping you remember about the show then you do. But, to give a quick summary, Ed is thirteen, Al is twelve. It is has been one year since Ed became a National Alchemist and put under Colonel Mustang's group. October the third was when Ed and Al burned their house to the ground and said good-bye, in essence, to their childhood. Farman is technically part of Mustang's group, only because Hughes is around. Also this under the assumption that Mustang's gang (and possibly himself) is unaware of what exactly Al is.

Disclaimer: I am not Japanese, bo, bo, bo, I do not own FMA, bo, bo, bo, and this is very true, bo, bo, bo.

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Chapter One: A Happy Ed, An Unhappy Company

Major Edward Elric, Full Metal Alchemist, arrived at Central Headquarters at precisely 4:15 p.m., two hours after he promised to arrive at Headquarters to give his report to Colonel Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist. There was a friendly pool (in reality, it was an unfriendly gamble between Farman and Breda, who had a little bit too much time on their hands) on why exactly Major Edward Elric was late.

Warrant Officer Farman said it was because he was trying to avoid talking to Colonel Mustang, citing the fact that Major Elric did not particularly enjoy the company of said Colonel. Second Lieutenant Breda said Ed (as he went by from casual or not so casual acquaintances) got distracted by someone bringing Ed's attention to his rather diminutive height, giving an overall description of the various incidents that had arisen and the property damage after said innocent observations were made.

Havoc rolled his eyes and chewed his dead cigarette stub as the two continued to go through the Boss' history. He knew better than to make bets, especially when a certain hard-ass, trigger-happy sharpshooter always came in during conversations at exactly the wrong time when the wrong sentence had just been said. She was sort of creepy in that way, almost like she had an alchemic talent.

He gave a quick look to make sure Hawkeye was still working studiously on a pile of papers just in case she had managed to pick up the talent to read minds as well. Not that he was paranoid. Well, he was, but only because Hawkeye was, well, Hawkeye.

Anyway, he figured it wasn't Ed's fault. The Boss, despite his numerous faults and almost disturbing dislike of giving reports to Mustang, always came in on time, if sometimes reluctantly. His younger brother, more often than not, would be towing him into the office, all the while waving and "beaming" (if armor could really beam; there was something wrong with that thought for more reasons than he could think about) at the various officers. And if there was one thing that would irritate Alphonse Elric more than anything was tardiness. If only for his brother's sake, the Boss would give a report straightaway upon arriving.

If Havoc were to bet, which he hadn't (and he denied the fact that he had put in money, pleaded total ignorance to why his monthly pay was only half it's usual amount), he figured something happened on the train, whether it was Ed's fault or not (he figured that it was because, somehow, always Ed's fault if you got right down to it), but something had happened to either: the train, the track, the people, his brother, or all of the above.

Hawkeye continued to work and ignored the clock, perhaps knowing more than any of the others or perhaps not caring either way as long as someone signed the paperwork. What her thoughts of the gamble, which she did indeed know about it, and Edward's reasons for being late, were her own.

As it was, none of the participants of the gamble, willing participants or not, were right. The Full Metal Alchemist arrived in front of Mustang's office, munching on the last slice of an apple. He looked almost homicidally happy.

Some of the less strong willed members of the office wondered if they could go running through the halls before someone caught them.

Farman, Breda, Havoc, and Fuery, along with several other members that shall remain anonymous stared at him. If Havoc had turned his head a little to the right, he would have seen Hawkeye's stern face break into a small smile. It was quite an impressive sight. Had Mustang seen it, he probably would have instantly thought up a plan to get in her skirt (or rather pants). Had Jean Havoc seen it, he would have been smitten and possibly even stopped smoking for a whole day. It was that such of an astonishing sight. Not only because it was so rare, but because it transformed her entire face. The harsh lines that made her appear older and sterner smoothed away for a younger, sweeter mien. Her fiery eyes softened into something not quite motherly, but comforting, warming. She appeared, quite simply, very young and very beautiful.

Havoc, however, turned a minute too late, thus managing to avoid a dreadful fate of coughing up his stub, a fate almost worse than death, in order to see Hawkeye frown and move into the Boss' range of sight, "Alphonse. Fullmetal, Colonel Mustang awaits your report."

Ed made a face. Alphonse, who had followed in as usual but Havoc had long gotten used to the lumbering metal following behind his fiery-tempered brother, put a hand on his shoulder, "The quicker you talk to him, the quicker you can sleep."

Edward looked like he was either going to say something sarcastic or start a temper tantrum until he caught Al's eyes. Something passed between them as star-fire and gold met that made everyone in the room rather uncomfortable and quickly look away. This was not the first time they had such glares but it never seemed to get any easier. No one could entirely put into words why the "staring contest", if it could be called that, made them uncomfortable. It could be the raw emotions in the golden eyes that looked too old for such a young body and fiery eyes that reflected something raw, bright, and distant. But it was more than that; it was the way the two of them looked at each other, as if the rest of the world didn't exist except the two of them and they really didn't care if anyone saw them. It was just the two of them, two very young children in a world of strangers and strangeness, two children that had seen far too much. It made everyone, almost uncomfortably, aware that these were children and they were in the military, where no child should be, and a very small niggling feeling of guilt lay in their chests.

Those who did witness such affairs were, however, damned if they were ever going to tell that to anyone outside their close group. Whether out of their own selfishness to not want to explain why exactly they were uncomfortable or their protectiveness of the brothers…well, no one would say anything of the matter.

With a great heave, Edward made his way to Mustang's office, leaving Al behind. He kicked it open, greeting Mustang with his usual cursing before he kicked it shut with a loud thud.

The silence was twice as loud as before.

Havoc eyed Al, "Sleep? Was there a problem?"

The entire room tried not to show how interested they were in his answer, except for Hawkeye, who had returned to her desk. She did not, however, have her gun on her desk so Havoc assumed that she was just as interested as they were. To show how uninterested they were, they focused all their attention to the conversation.

Al shrugged almost oblivious to the attention but not quite as he shifted from foot to foot, his only sign of nervousness, "The train ride was a late and bumpy, so brother didn't get a lot of sleep. He was trying to make up for it from this morning."

"What happened this morning?"

"Oh some person called brother, well, something rather unflattering and brother had to stop and, well, umm, describe in exact details why the comment was rather unflattering. Then he had to clean up the mess." Breda crackled at Farman, in a disturbingly evil chuckle. Al paid no heed and continued on, "But we managed to get on the train just barely on time. Unfortunately, brother didn't get to have lunch so he decided to stop before reporting to Mustang. He dawdled over a lunch a great deal more necessary. I don't think he really likes Colonel Mustang all that much," he said rather redundantly, "and I couldn't really try to persuade him to go faster since he hadn't eaten all day."

Farman smirked at Breda before they both realized what Al had said and repeated, "Lunch!"

Al looked at them perplexedly. Havoc sighed inwardly, a little. So much for his lunch. He had been betting on the train.

"But what about the man-,"

"Are you sure it wasn't because of Mustang-,"

"How much destruction did he cause?"

"Would he go out of his way to-,"

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING A MICROSCOPIC BEAN THAT CAN'T BE SEEN UNLESS HE'S RIGHT ON TOP OF HIM!" that came from Mustang's office and everyone winced.

Al sighed resignedly, "Oh brother."

Havoc turned to Hawkeye, "So, should we go in and make sure they don't start killing each other?"

"We, Second Lieutenant Havoc?" she didn't even glance up at him.

"Well, more like you. But we could always call for back up….or the ambulance."

"THEN WHY THE HELL DO I HAVE TO REPORT TO YOU IN THE FIRST PLACE, YOU GODDAMN-," Ed was shouting.

"It would appear that Full Metal will be coming out soon," Hawkeye said after the cursing had died down for a moment.

Al looked down, his equivalent for blushing, "Ah, I'm sorry for my brother's language. He gets a little carried away."

Havoc wondered where Ed learned all of those words, some of which even he didn't hear around the dorms, not that he spent all that much time around soldies.

Although, he narrowed his eyes as Al seemed to shrink even more in himself, he probably should be asking where both of them learned such words.

Though Al was the very soul of courtesy and politeness, with the exception of taking of his armor in front of others, he obviously knew the meaning behind the words Ed would spew out as he never questioned at their meanings or blushed even deeply at some of the more flaming and imaginative epithets from his brother's lips.

The door slammed open, a fuming Edward stomping out. His antennae which defied gravity on a regular basis seemed even straighter than usual and his braid lashed behind him like a cat's tail.

"And I want to see those notes tomorrow evening, on time, Fullmetal," Mustang called at him, "even if you have a difficult time reaching the top of the typewriter."

Almost it appeared Edward was going to turn around and do physical harm on Mustang. Havoc winced at the sudden rage on the small kid's face. Al, being a braver sort than most of the room (of course being made of metal did have some perks) grabbed his brother while he ranted.

Sometimes Havoc had to wonder about his commander's sense of amusement.

Once Ed was (relatively) calmed down, he was set on the floor once more. He straightened himself out like an upset cat, trying to gather his dignity and temper.

"So Boss, where're you heading?"

"Dorm," he said shortly, finishing brushing off imaginary dirt, "now that shit colonel is done with me-,"

"I heard that," Mustang called from his office.

Ed narrowed his eyes but, thankfully to Havoc's relief and for the rest of the office, did not volley another insult, "You wanna come with us Al?"

"No, I think I'll pick up some food in the market. You go on to the dorm." There was amusement in his tone and his eyes seemed a little brighter.

Havoc was suddenly, distinctly aware of the fact that Hawkeye was glaring at him. There was metallic ring in the air, a threat that a gun might be drawn out anytime now. He twitched, "Ah, meet me by the car. I need to, um, finish some paperwork."

Hawkeye returned to the piles, the metallic foreboding disappeared for the moment.

Ed looked at him for a moment, then nodded sharply. He stomped out, in the similar fashion, he had left, head high and attitude larger than his pint-sized boots. Not that Havoc was saying he was short. No, not him, he liked his balls right where they were, and working, thanks.

"Uhmm," Al muttered something and moved a little closer to Havoc, almost self-consciously. It was a hard thing to do in such big armor. "What will be the date tomorrow?"

"The third of October, Alphonse," Hawkeye responded. Havoc quickly scribbled on the rest of the paper, gathering them up before depositing them on her desk.

"Well, could you tell Colonel Mustang that brother might not be able to come in tomorrow?"

Havoc paused trying and not doing too well to remember when Ed's birthday was. "Is it a birthday or something?"

Al hesitated, his fiery eyes seemed to dim slightly before he said, with what it sounded to Havoc, almost forced cheerfulness, "It's an anniversary."

"I see," Hawkeye said.

Havoc didn't but that was alright. He was used to it. Sometimes, people would ask him why he was in the military, an organization whose purpose was to kill people, when he, himself, was never fond of murder. Why, he followed Mustang, knowing his own military position would rise and fall with him. He would smile to those kind souls, who tried to understand such a nice guy, because he knew exactly why for both of those questions, and smoked another cigarette.

Speaking of having a smoke…

Taking one out of his pack, he waved jauntily at everyone at office before he left, "See ya later."

He lit it on fire right next to the sign that said "No Smoking on Military Premises," knowing Ed was just a few feet away, waiting impatiently for Havoc to finish his cigarette but too tired to do anything more than glare. It was good to be under Mustang some days. Very good.