Unanswered Call – Best Kept Secret Oneshot

Author: MoonStarDutchess

Takes Places During Chapter 62 of Best Kept Secret

Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist and gain no profit from this fanfiction.

AN: This is an accompaniment to chapter 62 of my fic Best Kept Secret. If you are reading this and don't read BKS a few tiny things won't make sense but you'll know most of what's going on.


Unanswered Call

The sweet scent of cotton candy drifted to him as Maes Hughes hugged his precious little girl. He pulled away and smiled as she displayed her toothy grin to him. "Well, papa is going to go to work now." He rubbed her cheeks, making her giggle.

"Is papa going to come home early?"

"Hum . . . I don't know about that. Papa has a lot of work to do. I'll be home as early as I can," he said. He stood to full height and laughed when Elecia grabbed his leg and hugged it before running closer to her mother.

"You are going to be late if you don't hurry," Gracia said.

"Ah, so you want to get rid of me then?" He walked toward her and kissed her on the cheek.

"Don't talk like that," she said with a laugh. He ran the back of his hand down the side of her face before turning to Winry.

"So, you'll be leaving today won't you?"

"Yes," Winry said.

"I'm sorry I can't see you off. I have to go into work," he said.

"It's okay Mister Hughes. Thank you for everything you've done for me. Even more for Ed and Al."

"Next time you are in Central, drop by again. You are always welcome here," he said.

"Thank you."

Maes turned and walked toward the elevator.

"Bye Papa! I love you!" Elecia yelled.

"Be careful on your way home," Gracia shouted.

Maes held up his hand but didn't turn around until he got into the elevator. He smiled at seeing his wife and daughter still watching him and waved before the doors slowly shut, separating them. He placed his hands in his pockets and chuckled as a suddenly pang of missing them shot through him. It happened every time he left them and he acknowledged that it was silly to go through such feelings. He was just heading for work, not toward the firing squad for his execution.

He shivered as a cold chill embraced him for a mere second before disbursing. "Damn air conditioning," he said just as the elevator jolted into lifelessness and the doors shrilled open. He stepped out into the sweat inducing city environment. As he began his trek to headquarters, he savored the world around him. He welcomed the sounds, the smells, and the heat fleeting upward from the pavement even though evening had set it and the sun was gone, the sky now a shadowy version of the bright blue it was during midday.

He paused when he saw a black haired man and blond woman move in front of him. When he laughed loudly, they stopped and turned to look at him. He smiled and threw a hand up in greeting. "Sorry, for the laugh. Its just you two remind me of some people I know."

They returned his infectious smile and started to walk again. Maes watched them until they crossed the street, an image of his best friend and Riza Hawkeye still drifting in his mind. What he wouldn't give to see them that happy together. Right now, the fraternization laws stood in the way, but Maes was confident that he'd be standing beside Roy a few years down the line watching as Riza walked down the aisle. If he was right in his hunch, they were already engaged and just waiting for the opportunity to tie the knot.

--

Captain Focker greeted Maes as he walked into the office. He was standing beside Scieszka organizing the various and numerous sheets of information that she was cranking out as fast as her hand could move the pencil across the paper.

Maes stood at the doorway watching her for a moment before shaking his head in amazement. The girl's gift was extraordinary. He stared at the stack of pencils beside her, all of them sharpened down to about half an inch before being discarded.

"Scieszka?"

She ceased in her work and looked up at him. "Oh, good evening Sir."

"Yeah, good evening."

"Do you need me to do something else?"

"Um . . . no, you have enough work. One thing though. Wouldn't it be faster and easier if you were to type out the information instead of writing it?"

Scieszka moaned and fell forward. She rested her head on her arms and tears began to stream from her eyes. "Why didn't I think of that," she said and then groaned.

"Take a break," Maes said. "Better yet, have yourself a nap."

She nodded once and closed her eyes. Within minutes, she wasn't moving and light snores were emitting from her body.

The chair at the desk creaked as Maes sat down. Focker walked over to him and handed him the evening paper. "There's something in here you might want to see. It's on page 12." Hughes took the paper and opened it. "Right here," Focker said, pointing to an article.

Hughes scanned the headline. "Riots in Lior?" A bitter laugh left him. "I'm kind of surprised that the government would allow this to be printed."

"Yeah, so was I. I figured considering what you've been reading up on, you'd be interested in this. Apparently, the citizens in Lior found out they were being deceived by a cult and that their sun god called Leto was just a fake. I checked more sources and the riots have calmed down for the most part now. At least in that city."

"I see. Damn, the East sure is a volatile place," he said. He hoped that Roy's transferred to Central would happen as soon as possible so he could at least avoid the danger in the East.

"It's not just the East. There are small riots occurring all over the country and moderate border wars sparking up in the North and West. Briggs in the North is getting the majority of the attacks from Drachma."

Maes remembered Roy mentioning something about the North and what a hardening place it was. However, both of them were . . . slightly . . . drunk at the time they spoke about it. . For the most part all Roy mentioned was a bitch that could frighten the devil himself, if the devil existed, and that Hawkeye was the only person with the ability to terrify him more.

His eyes continued to take in the words on the paper, making mental notes of various keywords he read. "The death toll is staggering. If these riots keep up we aren't going to have much of a population."

"If this continues the government may have a very nasty revolution on their hands. Even worse than what happened in Ishbal."

The hair on Maes' arms stood on end and he momentarily lost contact with reality as his thoughts deepened to everything he knew so far regarding recent events. The riots, the deaths, human sacrifices, philosophers' stones, Ouroboros, and the military. Everything was blending and becoming one large, and possibly catastrophic, event. Or was going to become one if they didn't do something first.

He stood and walked toward the door.

"Where are you going Sir?" Focker asked.

"I'm going to go to the records room. I want to check out some older files."

---

Maes wrinkled his nose at the musky smell that hit him when he opened the door to the old records room. Despite it being used quite frequently, just the door being open wasn't enough to vent the smells of old maps, books and ink. He clicked the switch by the door and just brought forth a quick flash of light, the bulbs death a quick one.

He pushed the door open wider so the light from the hallway could give some assistance to him as he navigated over to the desk. After going through numerous records on the shelves, squinting to read the black print in the grey tinted room, he found the one he wanted and walked over to the desk. As he read, he pulled out a map and grabbed a marker out of one of the drawers.

He knocked everything off the desk and laid the map flat. Resting the files beside the map, he began reasoning aloud and circling various locations around Amestris. "Riot's through Lior, the ingredients of philosopher stones are human beings, and then there's what we," he swallowed, "what we did in Ishbal."

He raised the map to eye level and felt a stone of nausea hit him. A lump formed in his throat and the taste of the musk that he was breathing seemed to increase in thickness and potency on his tongue. His discovery was like a poison to the country and military, but it wasn't too late to find the antidote. "I've got to let the Fuehrer know about this."

The door to the room slammed shut, blocking the majority of light entering. The moon that was making its home in the sky bestowed the room with a bit of light. Enough for him to make out the beautiful woman that had entered. Her eyes were dark, dead, and her lips were quirked upward with malicious intent.

"It's nice to meet you, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes," the woman spoke with an elegant and leisurely lilt. "Or should I say, farewell?"

His body stiffened when his eyes fell to the tattoo directly underneath her collarbone. She took a step toward him and he kept his distance from her by taking several steps back. He feared that his knees were going to give way as he walked and his legs felt as if they were made of stone instead of flesh, bone, and blood.

"That's a nice tattoo you have there," he said.

The woman slowly lifted her hand and her fingers transformed into long, lethal blades. "You know too much," she said. She extended her arm forward, the blades from her fingers extended out and cut through the air, heading directly at him. With acute speed, he hurled his throwing knife at her, hitting her directly between the eyes.

A fiery pain exploded from his shoulder and blood spilled forth, drifting down the sleeve of his uniform, and burning itself into the deep fibers of the cotton fabric. He managed to make it out the door, his body falling onto the wooden floor in the hallway with a rough thwack.

He reached up to grab his shoulder, the blood seeping through his fingers in steady streams. Managing to get to his knees, he squeezed his eyes shut trying to gain control of his bearings that were attempting to escape him. He got to his feet, took a step, and then faltered, his shoulder hitting against the wall, leaving a wide red stain on the white paint.

"Argh! Damn it!"

He began walking, occasionally hitting the wall and pausing for a few seconds to rest. He turned the corner and through blurred vision, he could make out the girl that sat at the desk and registered those that used the phones.

She looked up. "Oh, Sir. Have you come to brag about your family agai--" Her eyes widened when she saw his state. "You're bleeding!"

"I . . . It's nothing," he gasped out, his voice turning more and more gravelly as he spoke. "I need to use the phone," he said while picking up the receiver. "I need to call the Fueh…" He paused midway through lifting the phone to his ear. No, that definitely wasn't whom he needed to contact and this was far from the best location to make such a call. "Never mind." He walked past the desk. "Sorry to bother you."

"Sir!" the girl protested but made no move to go after him.

Maes hurried out of headquarters as fast as he could, grabbing onto things to help him walk as he made his way to the nearest phone booth. His body was now protesting his lack of blood, the pain from his shoulder encroaching upon his entire form. He'd never been injured like he was at the moment and never knew a localized injury could cause similar pains throughout the body.

He fished around in his pocket for coins and put them in the phone. After dialing the number, a feminine voice came over the line. "Hello, you've reached Eastern Headquarters."

"Let me talk to Ro . . . Colonel Roy Mustang."

"We aren't permitted to relay direct calls from an outside line due to military security."

"I'm Lieutenant Colonel Hughes from Central! I'm calling from a phone booth due to an emergency!" His body was wounding tighter and sweat began to accumulate on his face, glistening in the orange light coming from the lamppost.

"Please give me the verification code."

"Damn it, what a bother!"

His eyebrows furrowed and he reached in his pocket for the book containing the code. "Uncle . . . Sugar . . . Olivier . . . Eight . . . Zero . . . Zero!"

"I've verified the code. Please wait a moment."

"Hurry up! The military is in danger!" Hughes cursed when he remembered that Roy wasn't at headquarters. He hung up the receiver and blamed his lack of memory on the blood loss as he shoved more coins into the phone. His palms were sweating as he frantically dialed the number and the phone began ringing.

"Damn it Roy! Pick up the phone! Pick up the goddamned phone!"

He straightened his posture when he heard the familiar click of a gun. "Hang up the phone Lieutenant Colonel."

Maes grasped the phone tighter in his grip and slowly turned around to see Maria Ross standing at the door to the phone booth, her black gun pointed at him and her finger resting on the trigger.

"Hang up the phone. Now," she repeated.

"Lieutenant Ross . . ." Maes smirked. "No, you're not her. Who are you?"

"I'm Second Lieutenant Ross. I've met you at the hospital many many times."

"No you aren't her. Ross has a mole under her left eye!"

The fake Ross smirked. "Oh, my mistake." She ran a hand over the left side of her face and a mole appeared under her eye. "Is that better?"

"What the hell?"

Maes turned around and growled. The receiver was still in his hands, still shouting for someone to answer on the other side. He lifted a hand to his head. "What is going on here?"

"How many times am I going to have to tell you to hang up that phone? Mustang's not going to answer you. He's probably spending time with his wife. You know Lieutenant Hawkeye don't you?"

Maes' eyes widened and he leaned against the phone. "Wife?"

"It's quite a secret to figure out about your friend. They've been married since Ishbal you know."

"This has got to be some dream."

"A dream? No, it's about to become your worst nightmare."

Hughes let the phone slip out of his hand and straightened. He relaxed his right arm and one of his throwing knives fell down into his grasp. "Hey, give me a break. I know they wouldn't keep a secret like that from me."

"Then you don't know them very well," the fake Ross said.

Maes laughed. "I'll be sure to ask them about that when I see them next. Right now, I have to go. I've got a wife and kid waiting for me at home." He turned quickly, knife poised to throw. "So I can't die yet!"

His body froze as he saw his wife standing there, holding the same gun the fake Ross had been holding. "You wouldn't kill me would you Maes?"

His brain started shouting at him that it wasn't Gracia but his heart made it impossible for him to move. It sounded like Gracia and looked like Gracia! He couldn't force himself to attack.

"Pretty good acting huh?"

Attack Maes! That's not . . . A shot rang out into the night, the sound bringing with death upon the receiver.

Maes tried to reach up to grasp the phone, pleading that Roy would answer it so that he could yell something, anything, to reveal what he'd discovered. He saw a hand grab it and hang it up, the being that killed him no longer holding the guise of his wife. He watched as the creature sauntered away from him.

Death was there for him no matter how much he struggled against it. He couldn't' move despite begging his body to act. He couldn't yell for help, his throat paralyzed from making any loud, strength requiring noises. The night was growing darker, the light shining through the thick glass a hopeless glimmer of luminance for the imminent blackness. He pleaded for breath, each of his inhalations and exhalations bringing forth less air than the previous breath.

He could no longer feel warmth, the rough wood underneath him, or the fresh wind blowing the tree limbs and the leaves across the ground. He was cold, so cold.

"Elecia, Gracia," he said and exhaled harshly. "I don't think I can keep…" he inhaled and exhaled again, "my promise." He looked upward, and wanted to cry, scream, and plead with whatever god that may exist to let him live. It was to no avail, as his body grew limp and his vision darkened into lifeless abyss.

AN: Damn this was difficult to write. I love Hughes and its like he died for the fourth time for me. lol