A/N: In 2012, I wrote this story for NaNoWriMo. It was a small idea when I started, and after 50K words, I hadn't even gotten to the part it was initially supposed to be about! *laughs* It has since blown up into a series (trilogy atm, but who knows if that'll change) that I am (slowly) working on. I've waffled about posting it here for a while (cause it has a couple *ahem* scenes that will have to be taken out per FFN rules), but I think I know how I'm going to handle those when I get to them. This story is only lacking edits on the last few chapters, so I will hopefully have it all up over here soon! -Pre-Roy/Ed, with some background pairings (Riza Hawkeye/Miles, Rebecca Catalina/Jean Havoc, Paninya/Winry Rockbell)

Much love to my wonderful betas, Bay Alexison and Tsukino Akume, who've put up with editing this thing for so long! Hiromu Arakawa owns Fullmetal Alchemist, I'm just playing in her sandbox! :)

Stirring Winds

Chapter 1

Central City Station had changed. At least since Brigadier General Roy Mustang had last seen it. When he'd left, he'd barely recovered from his newly restored eyesight—but the Central he left was in shambles, even outside of headquarters. The signs of war had been everywhere.

His eyes scanned the street as he exited the station. A few taxis dotted the curb. Less than usual, but there weren't many that took the first train of the day. The black military car sent to retrieve him sat at the back, engine running, waiting.

"I hope you haven't been waiting long," he said as he opened the back door, tossing in his travel bag and coat, before climbing in. "Train was about ten minutes off schedule."

The soldier in the front seat nodded. "Odd, since it's the early train."

Roy started to nod and then stopped, head snapping around to scrutinize his driver. That voice...

"Don't worry, I wasn't waiting too long. Boss."

Roy could hear the grin in his former subordinate's voice before he tugged off his military hat and turned around.

"Jean Havoc." Roy's smile was probably just as huge.

"At your service, Sir." He tapped a couple fingers to his brow, and turned back at Roy's mirrored salute. A beat later he was turning back around to hand him a cup. "Your coffee."

He smiled appreciatively as he took the cup. "You reenlisted."

Havoc smirked at the rear view mirror. "Had to 'catch back up', if I recall." His eyes fell to the road as they pulled out onto the street.

"Mmm," Roy acknowledged as he took a sip of his coffee. It was no longer the usual scalding temperature of fresh coffee, but it wasn't yet lukewarm. But after the long morning train ride from East City and the cool autumn chill it was glorious. All this time and Havoc still knew how he liked his coffee.

The drive through Central wasn't long, and conversation was lost in favor of observing the newly recovered, rebuilt, Central. Headquarters was still as prominent as it was before the Promised Day, at least from the exterior.

When they pulled up, Havoc hopped out and got the door, saluting with a broad grin as Roy stood. Instead of returning the salute, he put his hand on his shoulder, noticing the extra star there just before he covered it. Suppressing a smile of his own—just seeing Havoc on his feet and back in the military, it was hard not to grin like an idiot—he squeezed the shoulder and said, "Glad to have you back, First Lieutenant."

There was so much left unsaid in that statement. He wanted to say so much more. 'Glad you're on your feet again.' 'Congrats on your promotion.' But he hadn't needed to, Havoc seemed to get it all the same. Moments later Havoc shook his head and threw a glance at Headquarters.

"You should go, Sir. Your meeting." He was already stepping back toward the driver's side door.

"Right." He was running late, after all. But... "Hey Havoc, how about some drinks at Madame Christmas's later tonight? Eight o'clock? I hear her new place is nice."

"Sounds good to me," he replied with a jaunty little wave before he disappeared into the car once more.

Ed growled as he landed hard on his right shoulder, rolling back onto his feet. Something popped and sent a twinge of pain through the base of his automail, but he squared his face and glared hard at his opponent. Or he would have been, if the guy was still there. Ed whipped around to check the alleyway behind him, this time wincing a bit when his automail twinged again, but there was nothing but a stray cat they had scared off when their scuffle had taken them into the alley.

He turned back and ran to the corner of the building, flattened himself against the wall, and then leaned around to check the street. But there was nothing. They were gone.

Ed growled again, relaxing enough to massage his shoulder a bit, before clapping away his blade arm.

"'Investigate the disturbances,'" he grumbled lowly to himself as he headed in the vague direction of his hotel. "Could have mentioned there was more than one person involved..."

Mustang was definitely going to hear about this when he got back.

In all the ways HQ had changed, it was still the same. Roy's boots clicked softly down the new hallway to the Fuhrer's office. The last time he'd been here, HQ was still being rebuilt—or so he'd heard. His meeting had been off-campus at the current Fuhrer's new home. It had gone so fast that Roy was in and out of Central in a day and hadn't had time to take in any of the changes.

The halls were empty but for a few of the early-comers, some who nodded or saluted as he passed, and of course a few of the higher-ups left over from Bradley's rein that only acknowledged him by the barely concealed scowl as he passed. They had weeded out the officers that had been involved with Father's plans, but there was a portion of the military that still believed in Bradley's ways of running the country.

Just as he approached the door he was looking for, the knob turned and opened. Major General Armstrong paused in surprise before stepping through. "You're late, Mustang," she said by way of greeting.

"Ahh Major General, it's been a while. I've missed your charm."

She glared at him but didn't rise to it in response, surprisingly. "Well, you'll have to wait until next time I'm in Central for more of it, I'm afraid. I've got a train back up north in an hour."

Roy's eyebrows rose. So soon? "Trouble on the border?"

She scoffed. "I know you've heard about it by now, Mustang." She sobered. "It's getting pretty active. We're having skirmishes with Drachman troops almost every other day now. How's Major Miles?" she asked without missing a beat.

"He's doing well. He has made negotiations with the Ishvallans much more...manageable."

"I imagine, after your past with them."

Roy didn't reply, idly brushing his bare fingers together.

"Anyway, you take good care of my man, Mustang. He's a good Briggs soldier."

Roy nodded and saluted. "I will, and good luck, General."

For some reason, she smirked as she returned the salute. "You too, Mustang."

Before he could ask she had breezed past him, clearly done talking to him. He shook his head and continued on into the Fuhrer's outer office. The secretary was failing at her attempt to conceal that she'd been eavesdropping on the two of them, and it was all Roy could do to hide his smirk.

"Brigadier General Roy Mustang to see Fuhrer Grumman," he announced, probably unnecessarily—but it snapped the secretary out of her embarrassment.

"Yes, go on in. He's waiting to see you, Sir."

Roy nodded, walking over and opening the door into the Fuhrer's inner office. Grumman wasn't anywhere to be seen, but the chessboard sitting prominently on his desk, all set up and ready to play, was as familiar as it was unsettling. His reasoning for calling him to Central so urgently would either be a normal meeting where they played chess for sport while they talked, or very bad news. So bad that it had to be coded within said game of chess.

Roy had gotten good at reading into hidden chess messages from his former superior—though he was still his superior even now, but Fuhrer of the country was a bit different to head General of East City.

He picked up the white queen piece, thinking back to the last game he played with Grumman before he'd been transferred to Central under Bradley's rule.

Riza had been at his side since the War of Ishval, and went back with him. He never imagined she'd find someone during the restoration, and he'd been surprised when he learned about it, but she seemed happy, so he let it be. He smirked to himself as he wandered briefly what Armstrong would think about their subordinates' new relationship. Relations with Ishval weren't the only reason Miles had stayed with them as long as he had. After the loss of his wife in the aftermath of the Promised Day, Mustang had been surprised that he stayed on with the Ishval assignment. He'd given Miles the option to go back to Briggs if he wanted, but he'd turned down the offer, stating simply that he still had work to do here.

"Ahh, Roy."

Roy startled, fumbling the chess piece, which slipped from his fingers and bounced across the floor, rolling to a stop against Grumman's boot.

He laughed and bent to pick up the piece. "Careful now, this set's an antique. I didn't mean to startle you."

"Sorry, Sir, was lost in thought."

"Easy to do," he replied easily. He moved to his desk and sat down, waving his hand at the chair on the opposite side. "Please, sit."

Roy did, taking off his hat as he did so.

After a beat, Grumman said "I hear things in Ishval are going well. Quite well, if I've read correctly." He picked up a nearby file on his desk. "Schools up and functioning, religious buildings restored, economy on the rise..."

Roy nodded as he read off the specs Hawkeye had very likely typed up and he'd signed off on. "Yes, Sir. They're nearly self-supporting and fully functioning now."

The Fuhrer smiled, closing the file folder. "Good. You're going to be transferring to Central next week. Your entire office."

Roy blinked. "Uh...Sir?"

"Unless you have any objections? You said yourself that the Ishvallans are self-supporting and fully functioning presently, correct?"

Roy frowned, not knowing where this was going. "Yes Sir, but-"

"Then they will be okay if military presence is pulled out of there, right? As I recall, you've had most everyone pulled back to East City for a couple months now yes?" Grumman eyed him knowingly.

"I—yes, Sir. They should be fine to stand on their own without military presence."

The old man smiled. "Good, then. That's settled. Now," he gestured at the board on his desk, "white or black?"

"Hey, Roy-Boy. How was the meeting? Old Grumman didn't give you a hard time did he?" The scratchy voice of his aunt rattled down the line at him.

He toyed with the chess piece now residing in his pocket: the white king. "It went well. Actually, I'm going to be moving back to Central."

"Glad to hear it. It'll be nice being able to keep an eye on you again."

He shook his head. Thirty-four years old and she still saw him as a kid that needed watching. "Anyway, I've got a little time on my hands before I have to be back to East City and I thought I'd stop by. I've been wanting to see the new establishment."

He heard her exhale a puff of smoke before she responded. "Good. We need to catch up."

Roy frowned. That was her 'I mean business' voice.

"I'll see you soon, Madame."

"I'll be waiting."

Forehead against the cool tile, Ed closed his eyes, letting the hot spray cascade down his back. It felt utterly amazing on his shoulder, which was still shooting pains into his port when he moved his arm wrong.

He was going to have to make a trip to Rush Valley soon. Dammit. He sighed as he reached for the shampoo, then winced and cursed under his breath when he used his right arm, nearly dropping the bottle before he could squeeze what he needed into his left hand.

Definitely going to have to go to Rush Valley. Damn it all to hell.

He kind of wished Al wasn't in Xing right now. Of course, if he wasn't, he'd be here, in the military, with him, and—very likely—on this same mission with him. Which is exactly what he didn't want. Though, he admitted to himself belatedly, he could have used his help.

He would totally bully him about avoiding Winry and convince him to go talk to her. To be honest, he didn't even know himself why he was avoiding her. Things hadn't ended badly—they'd actually broken up amicably. They'd tried being together—Ed had even thought of proposing—but they were being pulled in different directions and things just didn't work out. She was being pulled by her automail responsibilities in Rush Valley, and he inevitably was pulled by his responsibilities in the military. They had agreed to part as friends, and things had initially felt like they'd gone back to normal again. Mostly. It was a weight he didn't know he had off his shoulders.

But now... Well. It'd been months since he'd seen her, and even longer since he'd been out to Rush Valley. They'd both stayed in Risembool until Al had decided to go to Xing to study alkahestry. After that, Ed went to East City to get his new assignment. Mustang had given him as much time as he wanted to spend with Al after the Promised Day's events. So once he was gone, there was nothing left but to go back. It was too quiet, and he couldn't stand the awkwardness in the air between him and Winry. And, to be honest, he kind of missed the traveling. Shortly afterward—the last time he'd had a proper tune-up on his automail—Winry told him she was going back to Garfiel's in Rush Valley.

And that was that.

He ground his fingers into his scalp as he rinsed his hair out under the spray. It wasn't like he hadn't needed a tune-up before this mess tonight, he needed to get that plate he'd cracked on his leg several weeks ago replaced, and he wasn't sure but he thought he'd grown a bit taller since she'd last adjusted it.

He grabbed the tiny little complimentary bar of soap the hotel supplied in all the rooms and started washing his body—minding the cut just above his hip, which he'd acquired from the idiot with the concealed knife he hadn't seen until the last minute. It was a bit awkward doing most of the washing one-handed, but he didn't want to bother with moving his arm much. His luck he'd screw it up worse before he got her to check it out.

He should call her. What time was it anyway? He groaned as he stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around himself before stepping out into the room to grab a change of clothes. He snatched his—now unsealed—pocket watch off the night stand on his way past, and popped it open. 7:53 in the evening. It was late, but she was probably still up. Not to mention it was less likely she was with a customer.

Carefully, he eased his tank over his head. The automail creaked a bit, but he'd aborted the motion before he'd moved it too far and finished tugging it on with his left hand. His boxers and pants were a little easier to do, since he didn't have to lift his arm much.

The wet strands laying over his shoulders were annoying, and he tugged at it as he thought about trying to do alchemy with his arm all messed up. In the end, he decided it was worth it to try, and tapped his left hand against his right, before activating the transmutation single-handedly. It hadn't completely dried his hair, but it was more tolerable than it had been anyway, and he hadn't wrenched his arm to do it. He was calling it a success.

He sat down on the bed, staring at the phone. Just call her, a voice sounding strangely like Al's said in his head. It's not going to get any easier unless you talk to her.

"Yeah, yeah..." Ed glared across the room. He sat there for a moment contemplating the phone. He reached out, took a breath, picked it up and started to dial.

The news wasn't good. Hand to his forehead, frowning furiously, Roy took a deep breath. "The attacks on the border. You think they're connected?"

Madame Christmas took a long drag on her cigarette and blew it out. "Hard to say, kid. We haven't picked up on any connections between this splinter group and Drachma so far, but that doesn't mean anything. They seem to be former Bradley Loyalists, though, from what we've gathered so far."

Roy pulled the white king chess piece from his pocket—the establishment was mostly empty other than the girls that worked for his mother, so it was safe enough. Not to mention that, other than his direct subordinates (current and former), his mother was probably the only one who would fully understand its meaning anyway. He let it rest in his palm for her to see, eyes still on the piece and thinking back to the conversation in Grumman's office.

"So that's it, huh."

Roy nodded.

"And he's giving it to you?"

He nodded again. "I'm assuming that's what this means, anyway." He gestured with the piece.

They both looked up as the door opened, and Roy pocketed the piece as Havoc ambled in. Roy looked back at his aunt as one of the girls greeted Havoc loudly, and she caught his eye meaningfully. "Watch yourself, kid. You might have defeated Father and his gang, but there's still dangerous waters out there."

Ed slammed the phone into its cradle for a second time. Why was this so hard? It was just a stupid phone call, to a girl that was one of his closest friends. Hell, she was almost like his sister.

Stealing himself, he reached for the receiver once more, dialing before he could rethink it. One ring...two rings... After the third he barely stopped himself from hanging up, and after the fifth ring, someone answered.

"Um, this is Garfiel's, but if you're calling about automail, they're closed for the even-"

"Paninya?"

"Whoa, Ed? Is that you? -Hey Garf, Ed's on the phone!- I'm assuming you wanna talk to Winry, huh."

"Uh, yeah. She around?"

"Did you break your automail again? She says that's the only time you ever call. Either she's in serious danger, the world's in serious danger, or you're annoyed with your automail enough to call about it. Please tell me it's not the end of the world thing again."

"Wha—I don't—no, the world isn't ending. That I know of. Fuck, can I talk to Winry?"

"Aren't we in a good mood this evening. Actually, you just missed her. She drew the short straw tonight. Just went out to pick up supper for everyone. She should be back in ten to twenty."

"Oh, uh. Okay. Well. Just tell her I called, would you? I'll just try again later."

"Where are you? What's your number? I could just have her call when she gets back."

"No, don't worry about it. I'm staying in a hotel for the night anyway, so I don't know the number. And it's been kind of a long day, I'll probably just crash early."

"Oh, okay then. I'll tell her. ...And Ed? She really misses you."

"Yeah, me too."

"Good night, Ed."

"Night."

Roy was rubbing his brow again when Havoc sat on the stool next to him. He let out a low whistle, eyes trailing between Roy and the Madame.

"Whoa I'm getting the feeling that I just walked into a bad conversation. At least from the looks on your faces. Should I...leave?" He pointed a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the door.

Madame Christmas smiled as she snuffed out her cigarette in the ashtray. "Of course not. My establishment is always open to you. I'm surprised you didn't bring that Rebecca girl with you this time. What'll you have?"

He cocked his head at Roy. "Whatever you're serving him. And Rebecca's working late tonight, so she couldn't come."

Roy cocked his head at Havoc as his mother sat drinks in front of the two of them. "Rebecca... You don't mean Catalina, do you?"

Hawkeye probably knew. He hadn't really been keeping up with relationships. Well, other than her and Miles, but he worked with the two of them daily, and she was his best friend. And well, Fullmetal was loud enough about his love life it was hard for anyone not to know about it. He was pretty sure he and his mechanic had split up, for real this time. Or so he'd said, anyway. Roy wouldn't be surprised if he came into his office next week confused about the Rockbell girl all over again.

Havoc nodded at him with a little doofy smile on his face. "Yep, Catalina. She helped me through a lot of my recovery. We've been together a while."

"Aww, I'm glad you two are still together, you make a cute couple!" Vanessa crowed from Roy's other side. "So Roy," he tried not to jump when she poked his side. He mostly didn't. "What about you? Any new love interest?"

For some reason, his first thought was of Fullmetal and his failed relationship. Then the girl he'd talked to a little just after moving back to East City—the first date he'd been on in a while. She was an old fling from just after the war, a pretty girl, but they'd both changed and drifted, and he had the feeling that she was just as relieved when the date was over as he'd been.

"No, no one new, Vanessa. Besides, I don't have time for one."

She hugged him from the side and announced, "We should toast!" She released him and picked up her own glass, waiting patiently until he and Havoc picked up their own. "To life and love!"

"That's so generic," Havoc put in.

"To the future," Madame Christmas amended with a nod at Roy, holding up her own glass.

He lifted his glass and drank, trying to ignore the twist in his gut. His mother believed in him, his family believed in him. And even though Havoc didn't know the details, he was, as he'd always been, unfailingly loyal, tossing a smile Roy's way and murmuring "the future" with the others.

He just hoped the future didn't involve walking directly into the mess looming on the horizon.

.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Wishing everyone a safe and happy New Year's Eve! :)