Prologue
a/n: So I guess this takes place in an AU mashup of FMA2003 and FMAB/mangaverse in which Hughes is alive and Al has his body back, and plus a few changes to suit my liking. Ed's been missing... four-ish years?
It was one in the morning and Roy was trying his damnest to sleep and not think about someone who didn't exist anymore, when the sharp ringing of a phone jolted him out of his thoughts. He glared at the secured line in his bedroom, mentally cursing Hughes for being such an insistent bastard, before answering the phone with a grunt.
"Roy," Hughes's voice, alert and urgent, rasped, and Mustang stiffened. He was temporarily transported back to the day, almost six years ago, when Maes had called with the same tone, only to be cut off by the bang! of a shotgun. Mustang had spent weeks after in the hospital with Gracia and Elysia, useless and helpless, relying only on the skills of the medical personnel to keep Hughes alive.
"Yes?" Mustang asked. His tone was clear and commanding. Hughes noted with some curiosity that it wasn't sleep roughened. How strange for this time of the night.
"There is a... situation," he said emphatically, "here at HQ. It's highly advised if you came and took care of it."
"And the Fuhrer," Roy snarled the title, "can't take care of it?"
"Ah, but Roy," Hughes's voice took a petulant tone, "I have the most darling new pictures of Elysia, and who else but my very talented Lieutenant General can appreciate them? I can't possibly wait until morning? After all, she looks just like her mother in her new summer dress. It's the most preci-"
Roy winced as he slammed down the receiver. He could almost hear a demon -one that sounded suspiciously like his best friend - growl, "Mustang you get your ass down here right now before I suffocate you with all the pictures of my family, Flame Alchemist or not. Then, you'd be damn lucky to get promoted, if you survive."
As he drove, he mentally cataloged everything that could have warranted being called to headquarters at such an ungodly hour. A security breach? Too trivial. An assassination attempt on a higher officers life? Possible, but unlikely.
Roy shook his head and sighed, venturing to gas the car, urging it to go a little faster.
When he got to headquarters, it was surprisingly quiet and unassuming.
The security personnel checked his badges and let him in with a slight questioning look.
Ah, so this was a confidential matter, was it?
He opened the door to his office and turned on the lights.
He was startled, yet not surprised, to see Hughes sitting in his chair.
"What was the big hurry to get me here, Hughes?"
"A few of my men stationed near the Drachma border-"
"You have men in Briggs?" Roy interrupted. How had Hughes managed that? The Briggs soldiers were loyal to Olivier and themselves, almost to an extent of being a separate entity from the politicking and scheming of the officers in Central.
"I have men everywhere, Roy," Hughes replied, the light reflecting off his spectacles in a maniacal manner, "-and, as I was saying, those men have captured a group of Drachmans infiltrating the border. We have reasonable belief that they're spies."
"And? Shouldn't Olivier have taken care of them? What has this got to do with me?" Roy sighed, making his way to the other seat -the one that Fullmetal had sat in and destroyed countless of times years ago- slowly.
"I had them sent here for interrogation. It's been years since the bloodshed under Bradley, years that you and I both are working to extend," Hughes looked at him meaningfully.
And it was best to stop bloodshed from happening at any cost. Fuhrer Hakuro must not know about this, and Olivier clearly thought it was important enough for Central to know. Roy caught on.
"There's something else," Hughes said.
Roy froze, on the verge of taking a seat on the sofa.
"The Drachman military," Hughes said haltingly, "They... they might be developing new weapons."
"Certainly, that is of concern, but couldn't that have waited until morning?" Roy frowned.
"Roy," Hughes swallowed, and Roy felt himself blanching. Hughes wasn't an easy one to throw off balance.
"Get on with it, Colonel Hughes."
"They're making human weapons."
Roy blanched. Too easily, the memories that haunted him on a daily basis consumed him. The devastation, the deaths, his guilt gripped him and locked him tight in momentary despair. And if the Drachmans were successful in their alchemical research, if they were able to create a state alchemist program as large and efficient and Amestris's, a war between the two countries would result in a definitive tragedy.
He breathed in deeply and said calmly, "Explain yourself, Colonel. As reports have it, the only two countries with advanced alchemy are Xing, and us."
"That's what my team is trying to understand. And we needed someone with alchemical experience, someone who could be trusted to help us interrogate the prisoner."
"The prisoner? I thought you-"
"They killed themselves to keep quiet during transport," Hughes answered as they began to walk to the Intelligence unit's interrogation rooms, "Luckily, the only one still alive was the only one of the group who can do alchemy."
Roy reached his hand out to let himself in the room, but before he could turn the knob, Hughes interrupted.
"Oh, and Roy? The one that's left. We didn't bind her."
"What?" Mustang wheeled to face his best friend, "Why?"
"Because," Hughes frowned, "she's just a child."
And with that, Lieutenant General Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist, the Hero of Ishbal, incorrigible womanizer and professional conversationalist and manipulator, found himself lost for words.