A/N: This is an AT set three or so years in the future in which Edward was able to bring Al's body back, but both his auto-mail limbs remain. He stays in the military to get money in order to pay for Al to go to school and have a normal life, while he assists in making sure other alchemists in Amestris are behaving and not committing evil acts. Seeing as how the idea and start of this fic occurred long ago, it has a lot of facts that stray from canon (especially how the actual series concluded).

Warnings - language and mild sexual themes.

Hopefully you'll all enjoy it! Reviews are greatly appreciated because I love to read what you think!

Chapter One: First Encounter

It was late in the evening, the sky painted an endless black with glimmering flecks of light shining in dashes from the scattered stars. Only having just finished the day's paperwork at work, Roy Mustang walked down the sidewalk, the streetlights and shadows casting ominous pictures along his path. The usual afternoon bustling and chatter from the buildings and streets in Central were gone, replaced with a slightly eerie quiet.

But the Brigadier-General paid it no mind and continued on his way back to his unoccupied house. He would be stepping out of the late night hush on the streets and into his own home's lonely silence. It was all the same to him, and something not unusual for him to experience.

The day had been tediously boring, the same as it usually was. Lots of paperwork, and... more paperwork. He hadn't had any meetings or any "situations" that had needed his services, and though it was a bad thing to think, earlier he had almost wished for some crazy psychopath alchemist to start tearing up buildings. At least then he'd be able to get out of his office and go take care of the problem.

Of course he really didn't wish for something like that to happen... Not in a serious manner, that is.

Brigadier-General Roy Mustang, the esteemed and well-known Flame Alchemist.

It hadn't taken him that long to rise up even higher through the ranks. On the contrary, it had taken him a lot less time than usual in the eyes of many military personnel. It brought up many questions of whether or not he had earned his place, but one conversation with Mustang, or one glimpse of the man in action with his alchemy showed proof enough that he knew what he was doing. He was no young idiot soldier looking for any way possible to get more power and more money; he was an intelligent man, politically and otherwise, and his reasons for wanting to rise up in the ranks were ones that should earn great respect. But he didn't go bragging around that he wanted to be the next Fuhrer, no, because that might ruin the reputation he'd worked so hard to build. The higher ranked men weren't stupid, they knew he had great ambitions, but Mustang held the appearance of a man who only did things for his people, and just so happened to get promoted, without him actively seeking it.

He was close, getting closer. And the thought that soon he would finally be at the place he'd wanted to be since the Ishbal war almost made him giddy, though the underlying worry and fear of said position in the military was still there. Being Fuhrer was not an easy job, that was obvious, but that wouldn't stop him from still wanting that job. One day he would rule Amestris, and change things for the better, for her people.

His standard issue military boots made soft sounds against the ground with every step, and the steady rhythm of his stride was comforting in the quiet of his surroundings. He was exhausted, and couldn't wait until he was home and under the warm, thick covers of his bed. He'd be alone tonight, but it wasn't something he particularly minded, contrary to popular belief. All he wanted at that moment was sleep, and he'd probably reject any proposal by a woman at that time. Unless she was remarkably beautiful and charming... Then he might change his mind.

For now his only thoughts were on getting home.

Then an unnatural light from a doorway ahead caught his attention.

It came from a familiar building, one Roy visited on a regular basis. As he neared, slowing his steps, he could hear the murmurs of conversations between people and the clinking of glasses. Welcomed and familiar sounds to his ears.

But he would not be joining the men and women enjoying themselves, that night was different. He continued walking, telling himself that he did not need the reassuring aid of drunken oblivion that he received from alcohol – 'at least, not today...' the man added to himself.

So on he walked, making his way down the pathway slowly but confidently. That is, until he heard a commotion coming from the alley across the street. It made him stop again – after he realized just what was going on – and stare without discretion.

In the shrouded dark of the alley, a tall man stood over a smaller, more feminine figure. He was bent over, as he was more than a head taller than her, pressing the young woman against the stone wall with his much larger body, his lips glued to hers.

He usually wasn't one to fancy watching another couple go about their business, voyeurism was something he had no need for because he certainly did not lack the charm to have his bed occupied when he was in the mood. And Roy suspected that if it had been anyone else he would have already started walking again. However it wasn't just some plain old couple stood in the alleyway, and he found himself captured by the sheer beauty of the woman, standing as if frozen to the spot, with his eyes only on her.

She was beautiful – as far as he could tell in the faint light – with golden hair cascading down her shoulders to the middle of her back. Clothed in all black; a long sleeved jacket and a knee-length skirt that's edge met with high leather boots, she appeared almost modest in the way she dressed, because she did not reveal much skin, but she was nonetheless still alluring.

And Roy was trapped, lost in the vision of her whose glowing beauty could outshine the blurry light from the streetlamps, as his mind whirled at the thought of her body against his instead of that man's. His neck being held in her white gloved hands instead of that man's. His hand sliding up her thigh and underneath her skirt instead of -

His body stiffened.

Not because of his thoughts, but because he had seen her slim frame do the same. He'd heard the gasp of what Roy assumed to be terror, or at least great surprise, come from her mouth and now saw her trying to break away from the man who was still trying to kiss her and touch her zealously.

His hands clenched into fists, enraged, as he saw her do so as well. It was like, at that very moment, they were connected mentally, and were both feeling the same outrage at what the desperate man was doing.

'I have to help her,' Roy thought, and was about to race across the road to do just that when there was a very loud and cringe-worthy SMACK from his destination.

The Flame Alchemist found himself staring again, this time in barely suppressed shock. There was no need to run over and pull the man off of the mesmerizing woman anymore, she had taken care of things herself, single-handed in the most literal sense, with the very self-satisfying use of a fist in the face.

The man crumpled from the impact, falling to the ground in a heap with both hands held up to his face. Blood poured from his presumably broken nose and into his black hair as well as all over the ground because he didn't seem to be able to stand just yet. Stepping over him, the woman staggered onto and down the sidewalk in the opposite direction of the bar, head held high and arms straight against her sides in an almost childlike form of anger.

It had been quite the sight, and Roy watched in awe until he realized that she was leaving. Consumed by the sudden urge to find out if she was alright – no, he wasn't doing it to find out who she was, definitely not – he jogged across the empty street to where she was. Once he was a few paces behind her – very petite – retreating form, he called out to her.

"Miss, are you alright?"

There was no response. He frowned and decided to try again. Maybe she hadn't heard him or was too shaken to have noticed that someone concerned over her well-being was following her. Emotions often dulled the senses, he could empathize with that. And almost being the subject to rape, or serious sexual abuse, had probably shaken up the female.

"I saw what happened, don't worry I won't hurt you, Miss... Miss?"

With no reply yet again, Roy decided to try a different method to get her to turn around and acknowledge him. It was either that or watch her leave without even getting the chance to talk to her.

The later was not an option in his mind.

His hand reached out and grasped her left shoulder gently, an action only meant to slow the woman down and gain her attention. And it did, but Roy regretted it when he felt her freeze, the muscles – surprisingly strong feeling ones – in her shoulders tensing under his touch. She'd definitely not been expecting someone to try to communicate with her, and probably assumed the worst; that it was the man from earlier.

Immediately he apologized, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, Miss. But I've been trying to talk to you and you–"

His words cut off as she spun around on her heel to look at him, knocking his hand off her own shoulder abruptly in the process. But before Roy could finish what he was going to say, his black eyes looked down into her upturned face and the words died in his throat.

Realization, horror, and many other emotions made him exclaim loudly as he saw and recognized who she was.

Correction; who he was.

And not just any he, but Edward Elric himself.

For what seemed like hours, they just stared at each other; Roy in open-mouthed astonishment and Ed with wide, molten gold eyes that made him look like a deer stuck in the headlights of an oncoming car. The teenager stared up at his superior and Roy found that he couldn't help but look him over another time. He really did look like a female – no, not just a female, a very attractive one.

The years that had gone by since Ed was a young and fresh fifteen-year-old had changed a lot about him. He still had the same fiery temper, but he was a lot more capable of keeping it in check, having learned that sometimes it was better to stay calm in certain situations. He'd grown in height, only a little, but what had really grown was his hair. As he'd matured he'd decided to continue to lengthen his beautiful golden locks, and it now rested almost to his waist when it was out of it's usual ponytail, instead of the former usual braid. And his pretty face only added to the aspects of him that would make him pass as a female.

Sudden confusion washed over the Brigadier-General and made him open his mouth to ask a question when he hadn't even thought of what to say. But seeing this, a flash of sheer panic crossed Ed's flushed face and then he was gone, dashing off down the street in a blur of gold and black before Roy could even blink.

"Ed..." was all he managed to say before everything actually registered.

'What was he doing here? Why was he dressed like a girl? And why the hell was he letting another man be all over him like that?'

There were too many questions and it made his mind swim as it tried to comprehend the answers to them. It was not meant to be doing something like this, especially not at whatever godawful hour of the night it was. What was going on?

'Hm... On second thought, maybe I do need a couple of drinks...' He highly doubted he'd be able to just go home and go to sleep now, and so he sighed and went back towards the bar, shutting out the images of Edward and thoughts of the circumstances of their encounter.

He passed by the man who had just been sexually assaulting his subordinate without a second glance – it wasn't that he didn't care, in fact, he wanted nothing more than to set the man on fire for even laying a finger on the young male in such a disgraceful manner, but he really didn't need the headache of the paperwork he would have to do following that particular course of action.

Reaching the building and entering it, Roy ordered a few glasses of alcohol he knew would make his mind unable to think straight fast and settled down on a stool by the bar counter. It wasn't like he came here to get drunk too often, only at times when the nightmares of the war plagued his mind too much for him to be able to sleep peacefully, and so he didn't need to worry about the chance of becoming an alcoholic.

On the contrary, if he ever did become one he'd have hell to pay, courtesy of a blonde lieutenant who would gladly threatened him with her gun until he stopped drinking completely. He could almost hear her voice in his head, saying the words "What kind of country will Amestris become if it's next Fuhrer is a drunken man with no more sense left in his head?" in her usual calm and serious tone. Normally she wouldn't say such things that were on the bridge of disrespect, but under certain circumstances she knew it was up to her to snap him out of doing things he'd regret in the future. So sometimes politeness was chucked out of the window.

Speaking of someone who often threw polite courtesies out the window...

Roy sighed again.

'I have a feeling it's going to be a long week, might as well drink while I still can,' was his only encouraging thought as the bartender brought him a couple of shots and he gratefully drank them.