Disclaimer: Nothing regarding FMA is mine but in my head everything regarding FMA is mine because I'm insane..


A/N- Wow, I got this out a week later exactly. Hopefully that will continue (Don't expect much..)


Dog Days

Two days earlier...

"Manipulative lying son of a bitch," Edward Elric muttered all too loudly as he stomped into his dorm, throwing his infamous red coat on the floor without a care. "Asshole thinks he's so smart? Stupid bastard needs an ass kicking, that's what he needs. Smirking jerk needs a punch a face, too."

"Brother..." Alphonse sighed, walking behind his older brother and picking up after him. "At least hang up your coat."

"It's all his fault anyway!" Ed exclaimed bitterly, throughing himself on the sofa.

"It's his fault your coat's on the floor?"

"Wha – no, Al! Haven't you been listining to a word I've been saying?" Ed asked.

"I've been trying not to, actually..." The soul-bound armor breathed. From their trip from Eastern Headquarters to their dorm, the oldest Elric brother had been spitting curses left and right and fuming about his superior officer.

Although, Al didn't really understand why his brother was angry. He expected him to be happy, joyous, even grateful! But no, it was never that simple for Ed. He always chose the alternative that never made any sense.

The Colonel had called for them earlier today – after they arrived back to the East so that Ed could give his report two days before – to discuss their progress so far. After almost thirty minutes of Ed's ranting about idiotic minors and clueless alchemists, Mustang decided to give them a break.

"It's not a break, Al!" Ed reminded him furiously. "It's house arrest! Suspension! Detention! It's like being grounded!"

Maybe Ed was exaggerating a bit too much, but he did have a point, Al thought. Mustang had ordered the boys to remain in the East, in their dorms, for a weeks time. He had stated that he wanted to keep an eye on them – Ed had scoffed at that – because their travelings had been too excessive.

Ed sputtered after hearing that. "Excessive? Excessive? Have you gone senile? How else do you expect us to find a way to get our bodies back? By sitting on our asses and doing nothing."

"I expect you," Mustang had countered. "To do as you are told. Traveling non stop, for three months without even contacting me or anyone else for that matter, is not what we do here, Fullmetal. What we do do here is listen to and follow orders, listen to and follow commands and – and this is the most important one – listen to and follow me. Is that understood?"

The whole cab ride back, Ed had decided to recite Mustang's lecture in a mocking tone that was much squeakier than the Colonel's actual voice.

But Alphonse was sure that a part of Ed knew that what they did was wrong and that their punishment was understandable. It was just that, they really didn't have time to contact Mustang and Ed always forgot what his office's telephone number was. They did try to call once, but a bakery store owner picked up instead.

But their actions were totally justified, nonetheless! They had a very potent lead on the Philosopher's stone and it was mandatory for them to check it out. Enough snooping around told them that a town at the border that separated East and South had a cave that sported the actual mythical red stone.

Traveling there was easy; it was finding the actual town was what was the most difficult. The problem was, they didn't know what the name of the town was. All they knew was that it was on the Southern/Eastern border and that it was small and surrounded by mining caves.

They had to jump from one town to the next – getting lost, picking fights, avoiding storms, chasing false leads – until they finally found the town only to discover that the stone was a fake all along. Some mediocre alchemist was producing red stones and was spreading lies that they were the actual red stones in order to gain more tourist attention. Typical.

"It's not my fault this world is filled with dumbasses!" Edward moaned. "But according to that bastard, it somehow is, because everything is my fault! Just like how the train derail was my fault, and the extra paperwork was my fault and his missing gloves were my –"

"Brother, they were your fault," Al reminded him, masking the humor in his tone with full seriousness.

"That's besides the point!" Edward snapped, ruffling his hair in an angry fit. "We have more important things to do than to just sit here and do nothing!"

Al, always the rational and logical one, waited until his brother finished his ranting to speak up, "We can always just do more research. The library isn't that far from here..."

"I suppose," Ed grumbled, swinging himself off the couch and stretching. "Go pick up more books when you leave to get dinner; I'm going to take a nap."

The suit of armor giggled when he pictured his older brother sprawled on a bed, his tummy exposed while his mouth hung open letting out soft snore. "Okay brother, I'll be here if you need anything."

Breda looked to Falman who looked to Fuery who looked to Havoc. Havoc jumped slightly when he noticed all eyes were on him. He backed away slowly and held up his hands, "Whoa, okay, wait a second!"

"Please!" Fuery begged. "Just go and ask."

"No, Uh-uh. No way, man." Havoc replied, shaking his hands.

"Come on, Jean," Breda said. "Besides, you owe us for that one time we all had to pay for your drinks."

"But this is different," Jean replied desperately. "This is me, walking to my death."

"Don't exaggerate it, it's not that bad," Falman said reassuringly, although failing miserably.

"If it's 'not that bad', then why don't any of you go ask?" He asked suspiciously.

"Because I value my life!" Fuery squeaked, quickly ducking behind Breda afterward.

The four men were situated in a lonely table in the mess hall, surrounded by babbles and arguments and gibberish and chatters from their fellow brothers-in-arm. The debate between the four men, as silly as it sounded, revolved around the question of who will ask Mustang whether they can get an early leave today or not.

"You don't think I don't?" Jean hissed, making the smaller man shrink even more than he already had. "What if he says no, huh? He'll torch me alive!"

"You know he won't," Breda scoffed. "The worst he can do is leave you with 3rd degree burns, if you're lucky."

Havoc pulled a face that easily read, "I'm not amused", and Breda laughed out loud. "Kidding, kidding! But seriously, go ask. Nothing you could say can get you out of it so you might just get it over with."

"And what exactly would Lieutenant Havoc be 'getting over'?" A new, feminine voice asked, causing all four men to flinch.

Jean looked up shyly at Lieutenant Hawkeye, who had just walked by with a tray at hand, and smiled sheepishly, "That depends on how much you've heard."

The woman's face didn't even twitch in the slightest, "I heard enough to know that the Colonel won't allow it."

Breda and Havoc groaned while Falman held his head in defeat and Fuery dramatically moaned in distress. Riza raised an elegant blonde eyebrow at her immature colleagues, "And what, might I ask, is so important that you want to skip work?"

Breda looked to Falman, who looked to Fuery who looked to Havoc who grumbled curses under his breathe when he noticed the six pairs of eyes that now rested on him.

"It's not like we're playing hooky or anything, it's just that – well, see, we just think we deserve a break."

"A break?"

"Yeah," Falman quipped lowly, looking around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "We've been working our asses off for the past week and -"

"And it's not like we're asking for a whole day off," the black haired man added. "The day's pretty much half over; just want a half day...sorta."

Breda nodded, "Besides, the kid got a whole week off, so we're justified to at least half a day."

Havoc let out a sigh of relief and sagged in his seat, happy that he didn't have to explain everything and that his comrades were there to support him – even if they originally planned to throw him, head first into Mustang.

"Those are all very valid points," Hawkeye observed. "But you fail to realize that the day is not half over; you still have – at least – another six hours and also, Edward was not given a break, he was given a punishment that the Colonel dubbed as a break in order to avoid an outburst. So are you all implying that you want a punishment like him?"

Nobody answered but it was obvious what their answer was. Fuery was almost pressured to scream out, "Yes! Give me a punishment if it means I can go home!" but silenced himself when he remembered that Hawkeye asked a rhetorical question.

"Have a heart, Lieutenant," Breda begged. "I'm sure you know where we're coming from, the Colonel works you half to death!" Then he added silently, "even if you do the same to him in return."

Riza frowned. These people were embarrassing, to say the least. She still questioned herself everyday how they were able to get a career in the military with their frail-boned attitudes. But in the end she gave in and sighed, "Fine, I'll give you the authorization for an early leave and pass it along to the Colonel since today is a slow day. But, I expect you all here an hour earlier tomorrow morning."

"Really?" They all beamed simultaneously. The woman nodded and the men scrambled off the table in a mix of joyous desperation while yelling their thanks on the way out. Riza narrowed her eyes slightly as the large doors closed behind them and thought, 'what the hell did I just allow?'

"So what you're telling me is, you let all of my subordinates out on early leave because you felt that they were being overworked?"

"No," Hawkeye answered. "I am telling you that I let four out of six of your subordinates leave because they believed they were being overworked. I simply agreed with them and allowed their absence, sir."

Mustang blinked. "Please tell me that you also see how ridiculous this is."

"I do not," she said simply.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye, do you –"

"With all due respect, Colonel," she started, cutting him off completely. "They've been working at a flawless rate for two weeks now and have not voiced a complaint once, even when you gave Edward his own break –"

"Punishment."

" – Regardless, sir. You've been unreasonably blind to your underlings well-beings."

Roy held a staring contest with her for about ten more seonds before sitting back on his chair and sighing, "Is that all?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then you're dismissed," he said, waving her off and turning his body around with the help of the rotating chair.

"And my punishment...?"

"Hmm, no punishment," he hummed.

Hawkeye allowed a smile before straightening herself and saluting, "Thank you, sir."

While she made her way back to her desk, she suddenly remembered a call that she received earlier that she had to deliver, "By the way, Colonel, General Perry said he wanted to have a word with you at 1600 hours."

"I'll remember that," he murmured off handily, twirling his pen between his fingers in a childish matter. Riza rolled her eyes and cleared her throat loudly, catching her superior's attention who turned himself around to face her. She lifted an arm and pointed at the small, round, wall clock that was hanging directly behind her and waited for Mustang's response.

"Shit!" He cursed, organizing the stacks of paper were cluttering the surface of his desk. "Why didn't you tell me sooner that he was coming?" He barked.

"Because you were not here," she replied, turning around and sitting on her desk.

Roy said nothing in return – there was nothing more he could say, the Lieutenant was right, after all – and continued to push all the papers down into the least filled drawer. As he dreaded, the phone gave out a shrill ring and Hawkeye answered it from her desk.

"Colonel Roy Mustang's office," He heard her say in a respective tone. "Hello, General … Yes, he's here, sir … Of course, sir … Not at all, come right in."

After wiping the wooden surface clean with his sleeve, Mustang sat down on his desk and leaned back. He cleared his throat a few times and smoothed his hair with one hand, preparing himself for the encounter.

General Kenneth Perry was a large, gruff man who does not live up to his stature. Although his size has intimidated fellow soldiers and enemies alike, he was – in reality – a genuinely sympathetic and selfless man; always putting the safety of others before him. He's a very old man who should have been retired by now but insisted that he still had work to in the Amestris Military, claiming that he still has a duty to accomplish.

A knock on the door signaled his arrival and the man let himself in soon after. Just as the door swung open, Mustang stood up straight as a stick and saluted the man sharply.

"General Perry, sir!"

A large hand waved him off, "At ease, lad. No need for formalities at the moment; this is just a social visit, is all."

General Perry seemed to grow larger each time Roy saw him. His curly, black beard was as ungroomed as always and his piercing green eyes were igniting with life. It was amazing that a man of his age still had that youthful fire in his eyes despite all the stress and tenseness he went through everyday. His blue coat – that was struggling to fit his large figure – was littered with stripes, badges, stars and metals to further prove that he deserved all the respect that he received.

The man towered over Roy, making the Colonel feel so small and vulnerable. He could practically taste the cigars from the heavy stench that was radiating from the large elder.

"How have you been, sir?" Roy began. "I've heard that they've been posting you all over Amestris."

Perry folded his arms behind his back, "Yes, yes. You've heard correctly. I've been very busy, yes, but that's not why I came; I'm here to see you, Flame Alchemist."

Mustang allowed a sincere smile and bowed his head slightly, "I'm honored, sir. Please, have a seat." He gestured with his hand at the lone chair that sat in front of his desk and Perry obliged.

"I've been hearing things," Perry said. "Been hearing a great deal about you, specifically."

Mustang raised an eyebrow, earning an amused chuckle from Perry, "Take it easy, lad. It's nothing of that sorts. Rather, I've been hearing marvelous things about all these wonderful accomplishments you've achieved and since I was traveling through the East, I thought I would come and meet the man himself."

"Please, sir. You give me too much credit. I assure you that all those rumors are exaggerated."

"Son, you don't give yourself enough credit," Perry laughed. "You shouldn't be too hard on yourself. It's rare finding soldiers as dedicated and devoted as you are; it's a real treat to meet people as fine as yourself."

"I'm flattered, sir, really. But if anyone deserves all this attention and praise, it would be yourself. Forty years serving Amestris and still going is an inspiration to us all."

Perry smiled, showing his teeth, "Now, now, Mustang. You're making me sound old!"

"Nonsense, sir. You don't look a day over thirty."

The man roared with laughter. The two men continued to converse for a lengthy hour, before the suddenly stood up, gripping his knees while he rose. "I must be off then."

Mustang stood up as well, meeting the General's eyes.

"It seems I have stayed longer than I intended. Regardless, I enjoyed your company very much; it was a real treat." Perry continued. He reached over and squeezed Mustang's shoulder in a friendly gesture, "You do your country proud, son. Continue with your duty of serving with the excellence you posses."

Mustang saluted the man, who returned the gesture, and watched as the he walked out. "One more thing," Perry said, stopping mid reach for the door knob. "Brigadier General Mackerel – have you heard of him? – is making his way around Eastern Headquarters for some kind of evaluation."

"Evaluation? How so?"

"From what I hear, he's been roaming each of the main headquarters in Amestris for the past year, inspecting the officers and soldiers to be sure they're 'top-notch'. Rubbish is what it is. And he hasn't been lenient in the slightest, so prepare yourself for him tomorrow. "

"Tomorrow?"

Perry nodded, "yes, I presume he should be arriving tomorrow evening, at least."

Mustang sighed. Great. Tomorrow is going to be hell. "I appreciate your help, sir. Thank you."

"Yes, yes. Always glad to be of some help." Perry smiled. "I'm off, Lieutenant Hawkeye, Colonel Mustang, it was great seeing you all and hopefully I'll see you some more."

Hawkeye and himself both saluted and watched the man exit. When the door shut with a small click, Mustang turned to his Lieutenant and said, "clear out my schedule for tomorrow evening, redirect all my phone calls and run a background check on a Brigadier General Mackerel; find out everything there is to know about him."

"Already on it, sir." Hawkeye said.

If Al had a mouth and fingers, he would be chewing on them nervously by now. Instead, he stood over his older brother, who was seated on a desk scribbling about, and watched him anxiously.

"Brother..." he began hesitantly. "Maybe you should go to sleep or..."

Ed stopped his writing and sighed, " I told you, Al, I'm not tired. I need to finish this and the more you keep breathing down my neck the more time I waste!"

"But you've been working on that all day! You really do need to take a break."

"I've already got a full week of breaks to look forward to, what more do I want," Ed grumbled sarcastically, reaching over for another book that probably weighed more than him.

"Please, Brother. I know you're tired, I can see it in your eyes. You need to rest more."

"Wasn't my nap earlier enough?"

"You only slept for two hours!"

"It was a refreshing two hours," Ed exclaimed, scanning the book for more information.

Al let out a noise of frustration. How can someone be this stubborn? As soon as they returned from the meeting with Mustang, Ed had gone straight to bed. Yet, Alphonse wasn't able to bask in the idea that his brother was finally getting some decent rest because two hours later, he was back up. He refused Al's suggestion of more sleep and went straight to his desk in the bedroom, researching more on the Philosopher's Stone.

Al stole a glance outside the window and sighed when he saw how dark it was. "Fine," he surrendered. "Stay up. I'll just be sitting outside."

"M'kay," Ed mumbled, not even looking up to acknowledge the fact that his brother had already left.

The moment Havoc entered the office – an hour earlier, as promised – he regretted that decision almost immediately and was tempted to walk right out. It seemed the others had the same thought when all three followed Havoc into their workplace.

Right when all four of the men stepped inside, Mustang gave them simple instructions to sit down and pretend you give a damn. But those instructions interpreted meant, "Go to your desk and don't ask questions and if you talk I will burn you alive."

It was only after each of them were seated that Hawkeye explained to them what was going on. Apparently, some high ranked officer was coming in to evaluate Mustang and his team sometime later on. That said, each one of them began tidying up their own desks to make themselves look presentable.

It was probably the first time he's seen ever seen the Colonel's desk not flooded with paper, Jean mused inwardly, suppressing a chuckle. This must be something serious, to have the Colonel in such a tense state.

The office was so quite it was getting uncomfortable. Hawkeye was walking back and forth, each time with a larger stack of paper than before, and handing it to Mustang. All the while, Mustang was reading the papers and gathering as much information as possible from them.

So far from what he's collected, Brigadier General Anthony Mackerel was not a man to be tempered with. He was known to rarely show mercy and he always got his way – a pure stubborn man. Earlier today, before the day officially started, Roy had gone around Headquarters asking officers who already had been evaluated what he should be expecting.

Their response was both vague and clear – Expect the unexpected.

True to Perry's word, Mackerel did indeed arrive in the evening, although really late in the evening; there was an hour left before everyone usually left the office.

The General just waltzed in without knocking or giving any prior signal that he was coming in, much to Mustang's irritation.

Everybody stood when the door opened and saluted. Mackerel didn't even acknowledge the other soldiers and marched towards Mustang in a mix of curiosity and determination.

"Brigadier General Mackerel," Mustang welcomed.

"Mustang, the man of the hour! Just the person I was looking for," Mackerel boomed loudly.

Mustang extended a hand for a shake but the General ignored it and continued, "I told myself, 'Hey, since I'm in Eastern Headquarters, why don't I stop by the Flame Alchemist and see what all the fuss is about with him', and what do you know? Here I am at last! Look at you, boy. So young with such a high rank! Others would kill to have your position – and I mean that literally! Ha! You know what I'm talking about!"

Mustang's eye twitched ever so slightly and he groaned mentally. Those reports didn't mention that he was so loud and annoying. All ready, he knew he was not going to enjoy this meeting.

"It's an honor meeting you, Brigadier General," Mustang said with a forced smile. Damn, he felt like he was using that line a little too much. It takes a lot out of him to be respectful to people who don't deserve it.

"I've been hearing that all day," Mackerel said, mostly to himself. "But forget about all this idle chit chat crap; tell me Mustang, you're a man who cares about their position in this military, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"So then, please do tell me, why to me, it seems you don't give a damn at all?"

Roy almost sputtered, "E-Excuse me?" That certainly was not what he expected to hear,

"Oh, no, don't take it the wrong way," Mackerel said in obvious fake defense. "People have been saying how much you devote yourself to your work and how dedicated you are to Amestris and all, and I'm not doubting them at all. The thing is, the way I see things, is that you take things a little too lightly."

"I don't think I understand..." Mustang trailed off.

"Let me put it this way," Mackerel said, pulling back a chair harshly – making the feet scratch the wooden floor loudly – and seating himself. The man leaned onto the desk and folded his hands, a position that looked like he was trying to tell the Colonel a juicy secret. "I know how people only have great things to say about you, but I can see your rebellious side. Just because I'm rarely in Eastern, doesn't mean I don't know things. A little piece of information, I served sometime in the Investigations Department, so I know my stuff."

Yes, he knew that already, thanks to the hours of researching.

"You've been pretty lazy after the Ishvalan phenomenon," The General said in a low voice that still carried itself as loud. "I've noticed that you couldn't complete all your missions, your reports have been almost mediocre and your staff have been proving to be amateurish in their skills."

Roy ignored the five sets of glares that were most certainly burning holes in the back of Mackerel's jacket and forced a smile, "While I do confess that my lack of professionalism is evident every so often, I must assure you that my subordinates have been nothing but reliable." He said so slowly, quickly thinking of the appropriate words that would make him sound proficient.

"Of course, I'm sure," the man said with a hint of sarcasm that Roy picked up. "But unfortunately, that's only half right – and by half right I mean the part of your professionalism being evident – however, not trying to point fingers or anything but … oh I'll just let you have a look yourself."

That was when he noticed that Mackerel was carrying a large suitcase, big enough to fit a six pairs of shoes. The man placed it on Mustang's desk – if he so much as scratched or even dented my desk, so help me God I will incinerate him whole – and began pulling out stacks of papers.

"Here we go," Mackerel said, pulling out a thin folder and handing it to Mustang who took it without hesitation. "If any of those are incorrect, please, let me know." He heard the General say while he was flipping through the files.

He wanted to groan out loud, cradle his head in misery, bang his forehead on the desk – Anything! These reports were so outdated and old but so embarrassingly true. It had the report of when Breda and Havoc got into a full blown brawl in the mess hall over a woman and ended up hurting two officers in the process. That happened about four years ago and had cost Mustang a few apologies, hospital bills and lectures.

The next page had a list of all of Edward's property damage and a whole page dedicated to complaints towards the kid. Well, that's just not fair.

He turned to the next page. Falman caught failing to arrive at mandatory meetings, Fuery [accidentally] breaking military equipment, Hawkeye repeatedly threatening other officers with her gun (well, that was a given), it was all there, much to Mustang's shame.

When he looked up to see Mackerel looking at him expectantly with a smug look on his face, "Well? Am I wrong?"

Mustang sighed and put the folder down, "No. These are all true but they have all been accounted for and dealt with –"

"Spare me, Mustang, I've heard it all before. I didn't come here to hear your excuses. Do you want to know why I did, though?"

No. "Yes."

"To make sure it wouldn't happen again," Mackerel whispered playfully in mock suspense. "I need proof that you won't disappoint us again with your prescient habits."

Roy's eyes twitched again, this time more noticeable but this time he didn't care if Mackerel saw it or not. "I can guarantee you that it won't, sir."

"I find that hard to believe already, Mustang," the General exclaimed loudly, catching everybody's attention. "It seems one of your subordinates failed to arrive today. Tell me, where is the Fullmetal Alchemist?"

"He was given a break; some time off."

"You gave him a vacation?"

"A break, sir."

"Break, vacation! Is there really any difference between those two words? They have the same meaning, correct? Enlighten me as to why you would give him a vacation when he has been gone for – what was it? - three whole months. Go on. Humor me."

His right arm, reflexively, was moving towards his coat pocket and to his gloves. He was just itching to watch that disgusting look melt off of Mackerel's face. Where the hell did he get nerve to say this crap? Sure, he was a Brigadier General and held a higher rank than him but Mustang was an alchemist – he had the advantage. If it ever came down to it, he could destroy the man with one snap. One snap is all it took to show this idiot who really had the higher ground.

But no. Unfortunately, it doesn't work that way. Mustang grabbed his right arm and stopped it mid motion and regained his composure, "those reasons are my own reasons. I am entitled to discipline my subordinates in anyway I see fit. I fail to see any wrong doings."

It was Mackerel's eye's turn to twitch, but he blinked and smiled, "Oh, I think the Flame Alchemist is turning soft!"

Was this bastard openly mocking him? Roy bit down on his tongue. Hard.

"We have no place for soft soldiers, Mustang," Mackerel said, his voice gravely serious. "You're indolence will not be tolerated anymore. The higher ups have been complaining that you seem to be lacking the commanding skills a colonel is obligated to have and I'm starting to see it."

The man stood up, again obnoxiously pushing back the chair and said in a dangerous tone, "In this place, you either rise to glory or fall to worthlessness. There is no in between, so start deciding where you want to be, Mustang, and start deciding soon."

The two men kept eye contact for a moment longer before Mackerel snorted and turned around. Roy glared at the man's back and was debating whether he should just let his hands do the talking for him.

"Oh! I almost forgot," Mackerel said, returning back to Roy with a large, yellow envelope he pulled from his briefcase. He threw the envelope onto the desk and turned around again, "This should be a helpful head start. A few minor tasks that would sharpen you up. Try not to disappoint us this time."

With that, the door was slammed shut and the room was filled with a suffocating silence. Roy ignored the exchange of uncomfortable glances from his subordinates and took in a deep breath. His teeth gritted, he marched towards the door without a word. Breda made a move to say something but Hawkeye stopped him by loudly clearing her throat and shaking her head.

"Just let him be," she murmured and the silent message was received by all.


Author's Note 11/2/11 - Ta-da! Eh, yes I know, a boring chapter - but hey, what do you expect? To make it up, the next chapter is the one with all the action so look forward to that. In other news, any Naruto fans? Cause I must say, the manga is getting so bad ass that it's fucking awesome! Now if only they'd stop with the fillers and get on with the real episodes. On a side note, I need a BETA and well, I don't know how to get one o.O If anyone can enlighten me on the procedure on getting a good BETA, please PM me. It would be really helpful :)

Oh crap, how can I forget! You're reviews were all lovely and the positive feedback was so amazing. I literally smiled when I read them, so thank you for those and continue on!


Next Chapter: "The Uninvited Guest"

Out of all the thoughts running through Ed's head at the moment, the one that stood out the most was that The Colonel was defiantly going to blame him for all the destruction, regardless of all the facts that pointed that it was not his fault.