The Objective Observer
By Hanomaru
Summary: It's not apathy. Apathy is watching a news report about families raped and murdered and not caring. Objectivity is following the evidence and not your heart to the culprit.
Pairings: RoyEd, as usual... Maybe some others.
Warnings: Shonen-ai (eventual), coarse language, some blood and gore.
Disclaimer: I, of the pseudonym Hanomaru (ハノマル), claim no ownership of Fullmetal Alchemist (はがねのれんきんしゅつし) or its characters, the copyrighted creative property of Hiromu Arakawa, Square Enix, MBS, ANX, Bones, dentsu, and FUNimation. This work involving the characters of Fullmetal Alchemist is my own creative property; however, this claim carries no legal weight. I am incapable of prosecuting anyone who chooses to copy this work; however, I will be very angry with them and will never let them live it down. This work was created without the intention of monetary profit, and is purely for the enjoyment of myself and other Fullmetal Alchemist enthusiasts. Please don't sue me. I have no money.
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It Began with an Ending
Despite his luck, the morning had gone relatively well. Neither vomit nor excrement had been hurled at him by the presumptuous, puny primates others called "children." Now he only had another two hours to go before he could stop stretching his patience to its limit. At least for today. He could hardly wait until Gracia got back from maternity leave.
"Mithter Elric?"
Ed sighed hoarsely. "What is it, Marc?"
"What'th all thith red thtuff coming out?"
After having dealt with as many paint spills as Ed had, his response was reasonable: "OHHH NO YOU DON'T!" Ed sprinted out the door to meet with Marc and a young man who was a complete stranger to him. The stranger also happened to be dead on the floor.
A massive amount of blood was running from a hole through the middle of the man's forehead out onto the floor. The edges of the wound were ragged and curved up and outward. Ed could see blood sprayed in drops around the body before they were absorbed into the growing pool.
Ed dragged Marc back into the classroom, slammed and locked the door and called 911.
-
"Now, Marc, did you see anybody around when you found the body?"
"Nope!" he clucked cheerfully.
The detective raised an eyebrow and bent down closer to the child who seemed to be impervious to the seriousness of the situation. Eyes with so much gravity they looked like black holes stared straight into his face. Marc straightened up and unplastered the silly grin from his face.
"N-no, thir. Nobody anywhere. It'th thorta weird." Marc looked over the detective's head. "Why'th everyone crowded 'round him?"
"Look at me, Marc. Pay no attention to them. Now, did you recognize the man?"
"No, thir."
"Did you touch the body or anything around it?"
"No, thir. Mithter Elric thtopped me."
The detective sighed and stood up. "No more questions from me. Thank you, Marc." He turned to one of his colleagues. "Nothing. You got anything from 'Mithter Elric'?" he asked, imitating the youngthter'th tirethome lithp.
The other turned around and took his cap off of his greying head. "Sorry, Detective. He didn't see anything either."
Ed looked from behind him and said, frustrated, "Look, it's not my fault the brat didn't have to go earlier! And geez, you come in here like you own the place and don't even tell me who you are! How'm I supposed to know you're really detectives and not, oh, child molesters in disguise?!"
The detective smirked and closed his eyes. "My apologies, Mr. Elric." He extended his hand. "Detective Mustang, at your service. This is Officer Falman. We should have introduced ourselves earlier." Ed reluctantly took Mustang's hand and shook it.
Falman scratched the back of his head and smiled. "Well, really, yeah. Sorry."
"Are you sure you don't know anything?"
"Well... I know he was shot..." Ed looked back at the body. "...From behind, less than five minutes before Marc found him. There was blood spatter around the body, so he was shot here. And none of us heard anything, so the gun was silenced." He looked up at the paneled ceiling, where spots of red made an oval shape just past the point where they would have been above the body. "While he was falling down, maybe? No, that would mean someone would have shot him through the floor. Maybe he slipped on something while someone was holding him, and they - "
"You can stop now. That's our job you're doing," Mustang stated sternly.
Ed shut his mouth and made a slightly apologetic nod to him.
"But you do have all the makings of a good detective." He about-faced and signalled to Falman. They walked towards the door as forensic investigators in white jumpsuits and hairnets walked by on either side towards the body. "We'll be back to ask more questions when we have a better idea of what happened. We will meet again, Mr. Elric," he declared in the other direction.
Ed made his presence known to one of the CSIs, a tall blond with the smell of nicotine all over him who happened to be the one with a camera. "Is he always like that?" Ed asked.
The investigator shrugged. "Usually. Unless the victim's a kid. Then he's Mr. Blinding Fury."
"Yes?" a glasses-clad CSI responded.
"Not you, Fury. Sorry." He turned back to Ed. "I get the feeling we're going to be seeing a lot of you, Mr. Elric. He doesn't usually say more than the bare minimum to witnesses." He took off his right glove and extended the gloveless hand. "Name's Havoc." They shook hands. "Now, I think you'd better either suit up or clear off. Our supervisor would get mad if you shed any more hair on our crime scene. Take the kids with you."
Ed nodded and returned to the classroom where the kids had all been waiting. He put on the fake cheer that he'd been using for the day. "Okay, everybody! Class is dismissed for the day! Let's go out the back door today!" As the mass of snivelling children moved towards the door that went straight outside near the other end of the room, he shouted, "Don't forget your bags! Have a nice weekend!" He waited for them all to leave, and then dropped the act. He visibly relaxed. He lugged himself over to the nearest comfy chair and dropped himself into it. A few minutes later, out of curiosity and sheer boredom, he took a random book out from the shelf and flipped through it. There were no more than six words per page, and the story, that of a vegetarian lion that made friends with antelopes, wasn't even worth kindergarten-level. He groaned and lamented the state of the future, if those were the books we put in its hands. Then again, he'd never really been all too optimistic about the future to begin with.
It was raining. Of course it had to be raining. He didn't mind the rain too much, but it would never seem to be just the weather again.
He was all right as far as he knew, but he couldn't move his left leg. He couldn't see anything. Only grey and red met his eyes whenever he looked where there was light. He heard yelling. It was frantic, and sounded like many men. They were getting closer. Ed yelled for them, begging them to come help him get out. He had no idea what had happened, but he was frightened and he knew that his parents were hurt. They needed help. The yelling came closer, and he saw a hand in front of him, reaching through the broken glass and onto the ceiling of the inverted car. Ed reached out to it and grabbed the cuff of the long sleeve. It was the only thing he could reach with his immobile leg holding him back. He heard a voice telling him not to panic, and then the hand was withdrawn. More yelling, and then he felt the car tip up until it was restored rubber-side down. Cheers ensued, and then someone gasped. Aural expressions of grief and horror surrounded the car. All Ed wanted was for someone to get him and his parents out of the car and to a hospital. Then everyone would be happy and safe again.
He was five years old. Death could never come to his loved ones.
"Excuse me?"
Ed pulled himself into consciousness again to see Fury poking his head timidly through the door.
"Sir, you're going to have to leave. I'm sorry, but the smallest mistake could corrupt the evidence. It's nothing personal. We just need to evacuate the crime scene. The whole school's being emptied," he explained.
Ed acknowledged him, apologized for getting in the way, picked up his things, and walked out the back door.
The detective was there waiting for him, leaning casually with his back against the brick wall and his eyes to the door under the shabby metal canopy over the concrete extension of the foundation. The only thing missing from the picture was a cigarette, a fedora and a film-noir narrative.
Ed eyed him with distrust. "I thought you'd finished interrogating," he said, with the structure of a statement but the intent of a question.
Mustang ignored the comment. "I've met you before."
Ed leaned back and to the side, setting down his bag, folding his arms and supporting his weight on the wall. "You think so? I'm pretty sure I've never seen you, and trust me, if I had, I would have learned to avoid you."
Mustang shrugged. "Of course you wouldn't remember. You were too young." And, without a further word, walked to the patrol car where Falman was waiting for him and got in. The car drove off.
Ed fumed quietly.
-
Mustang walked calmly into the Captain's office, greeted by the back of a chair. He saluted and began to state his name.
"That's unnecessary, Mustang. I know it's you. You're the only one who salutes me when you enter." The Captain turned the chair around to face him.
"Yes, sir. I apologize."
"You can stop being so formal. We've been working together for eleven years."
Mustang relaxed. "But, Captain - "
"Just call me Hawkeye."
He sighed. "Yes, Hawkeye." He stepped forward into the office and approached her desk. "Now, I have come to request permission to reopen a case file." He handed her a form.
She took it slowly, read it through carefully, and looked back to him thoughtfully. "This case began before either of us even graduated high school. What caught your interest?"
Mustang leaned over and pointed to a name. "Did you get the report from today's investigation?"
She nodded. "I see. Do you feel that solving this would help our current investigation?"
"Yes."
"There are a lot of people out there who can't trust us, and some of them have good reasons," she said with a small smile. "Here's the strongest reason I've seen in my career. Yet he still seems willing to help us solve this one. Let's not let him down any more, shall we?"
"Exactly."
She took a pen, read it through again, signed her name at the bottom and indicated the date.
"Thank you, Captain Hawkeye." He saluted, took the form, and left.
Hawkeye sighed. "He's far too polite," she mumbled to herself. "Must be part of his 'charm.'"
-
A/N: I'm sorry if any of this is inaccurate. I'm not a member of the police, so...