Welp, I guess it was time for a second chapter, and this may or may not continue, my muse is very strange about this fic.
Warnings: Talk of suicide, suicidal mentality, one piece of shit OC
"This is Major General Mustang," Mustang spoke curtly into the phone, grimacing as Hawkeye added another stack of paperwork to his desk.
"Ah, hello, Sir" a small tinny voice echoed through the phone line, and even though the quality was horrid Mustang knew it at once.
"Alphonse, I'm surprised to hear from you, how are things in Xing?" Mustang leaned back in his chair, ignoring the looks from the rest of his team as they heard who was calling.
"It...It's been fine, umm, look, have you heard from Ed lately?"
Mustang looked down at the receiver and blinked, then moved it up to his ear again, "No, why?" A small smirk stole across his face, "What has the shortie done this time?"
The line remained silent for a time, and slowly Mustang's smirk faded from his face, "Alphonse?"
"He hasn't written to me in over three weeks," Al blurted out, and instantly Mustang tensed.
"Say that again," Mustang moved forward in his chair, not noticing how everyone else in the office froze.
"Ed, he, he usually writes once a week, I mean, sometimes he forgets because he is busy, but he hasn't written in three weeks and I tried to call him but he hasn't responded, and lately his letters have seemed sort of off, and I don't know what to do and I'm really worried because I called Winry and she hasn't heard from him in months! And this isn't like him at all! " Al panted after speaking so quickly, and let out a slow breath.
"Just, just have you seen him lately? Is he okay?"
Mustang could hear the creaking grip Alphonse had on the phone, and closed his eyes.
How long had it been since he had seen Edward? He had hung about the office for a bit after the Promise Day, helping with some of the reports...but after that... Dread started to fill Mustang's chest as he tried to think of the last time he had seen Fullme- Edward. Could it have really been that long, over six months since he had last laid eyes on him.
"Excuse me for a moment, Al," Mustang placed the receiver on his desk, black eyes shadowed.
"Sir?" Hawkeye had moved closer, and Mustang shook his head and looked around at his team.
"Has anyone seen Ed?"
Silence met his statement, and he internally cringed as every single face began to bleach of color.
"Why? Is something wrong with Boss?" Breda asked.
Mustang breathed out his nose, "Alphonse hasn't heard from him in three weeks, and the last time I saw him was over six months ago, have any of you seen him since then?"
Black shadows of fear began to loom over the group as they all shook their heads.
"Last time I saw him was when he was in the office," Falman spoke quietly, "Maybe he has gone to Resembool?"
Mustang grimaced, "Apparently he hasn't been in contact with anyone in Resembool for even longer."
"Does anyone know where he lives? He had to leave the dorms because he isn't a State Alchemist anymore, where did he go?" Fuery spoke.
"Alphonse might know," Hawkeye pointed out, and Mustang nodded, turning back into his office.
"Alphonse?"
"Yes, sir?" his voice was filled with tension.
Mustang swallowed heavily, "Alphonse, do you know where Ed was living?"
"Uh, yes, it is a small apartment, near the eastern entrance, 1547 Truely St., apartment 26...you haven't seen him either, have you?" Alphonse's voice became muted at the end of the sentence.
"No, we haven't seen him for months," Mustang replied, just as quietly, "I'm going to head over to the apartment complex now, will this number get back to you?"
"Yes, I mean, it is a university phone but I'm going to wait for a bit...I mean, yes, I will be here...if-when you find him can you make him call me, please?" Alphonse pleaded.
"Of course, I will have a few words with him as well for causing so much trouble," Mustang spoke with a falsely cheerful voice.
Al might have let out a wet cough, "Okay, I'll just...I'll just wait for him then." Alphonse then hung up the phone.
Mustang breathed out quickly, his hands knuckled against his desk, gloves tensing and furling.
He breathed out again, and walked back to the main room, "I'm going out, Hawkeye, Falman you are with me, Fuery, Breda, finish what you are working on, but don't start on the requisition forms yet, I have a feeling that we are going to have to change things."
The team saluted, and Hawkeye and Falman followed Mustang out of the building.
"Where to, sir?" Hawkeye spoke just quiet enough for only Mustang to hear her.
" 1547 Truely St, near the East gate," Mustang replied just as quietly.
Hawkeye blinked, her eyes shining with confusion, "Why would he get an apartment all the way out there? He certainly had enough money left over, there is no reason to live out that far."
"I know," Mustang replied, and they all climbed into a waiting car.
~~.~~
The apartment complex was bland, beige walled, no trim, every apartment looked exactly the same. The street had little to no traffic, and there was almost no noise besides the rustling of the wind over the pavement.
Edward Elric would never have been caught dead in a place like this.
Hawkeye and Falman must have been thinking the same thing, because Mustang could see their shoulders tensing, and Hawkeye's face twitch through her calm facade.
"...this is disconcerting," Falman spoke as they walked through the main entrance.
Mustang gave him a small nod, and moved over to the front desk. The lady behind the counter was reading a magazine, idly flipping through the pages.
"Excuse me, Miss," Mustang started, only using a little of his charisma to get her attention, "I need to talk to the person in apartment 26."
"Well, you are shit out of luck, there ain't any one in apartment 26, last guy left a month ago," the woman looked up, and placed the magazine down, "You military? What he do wrong, always the ones who pay up front, those are the shadiest."
"He left? Where did he go, did he leave a mailing address?" Mustang heart clenched and froze.
"Yeah. left, got back his down payment and walked out, only a suitcase, looked right done too if you know what I mean," the woman shrugged.
Anger, trepidation, and fear began to course through Mustang's this woman could be so callous, did she have no idea what Edward had done for her, for all of them? She wouldn't even be alive if he hadn't saved them all.
"What do you mean by 'right done'?" Hawkeye spoke from behind him, her tone laced with danger.
"Oh, ya know," the lady flapped her hand a bit, not knowing what she was provoking, "Seen it before, guy down the street. They get all quiet and shit and then a week later someone complains about the smell and they find them swinging."
Mustang let out a sharp sound and almost took a step back, his thumb and finger rubbing together. Hawkeye had moved her hands over her gun holster.
"Did he leave anything in the room? We need to look around," Falman calmly moved forward, drawing the woman's attention away from Mustang.
"Dunno, here, have the keys, I need 'em back in an hour, though," the woman tossed the keys to him, and returned to her magazine.
The three walked up to the room, Mustang not even paying attention to the steps or the layout, or the dreary interior and cookie cutter style.
Suicidal.
Ed was- is suicidal?
That, that couldn't be right, that was the opposite of Ed in all ways, wasn't it?
And yet...Mustang found himself drawn back to the aftermath of Ishval... the pain and loneliness, the utter defeat in the knowledge of what he had done. The longing for oblivion and the quiet that would hopefully come afterwards.
Maes and Riza were the only reasons he had kept going...they had forced him again and again. Until he had finally found a goal that he could strive towards, something that he wanted to change.
And he had met the Elrics, Ed just..had a way of giving someone drive, of making them want to do their best, to stand up again and again like he had.
But what did Ed do after he had finished his goal? He no longer had a driving force, and his alchemy was gone as well. Ed had saved the world at the age of sixteen. What goal could ever compare to that?
Ed had people too, of course he did...but it seems that he had slipped through all of the cracks...
Mustang seethed internally, looking over the past six months. How could he have not noticed? How could he have forgotten? The excuse that he was busy fixing the government was just that, an excuse. When had his team stopped inviting Ed out with them to bar nights, when had they stopped noticing that he was no longer stomping into the room and slamming the door open. How could they have forgotten him, forgotten about him, not realized what they were doing?
"Did Ed ever go talk to psychiatrist? After everything?" Falman wondered allowed, and Mustang shook his head.
"Of course he didn't...he hates doctors," Mustang closed his eyes, his fingers itching to set something on fire.
"He was a sixteen year old who stopped an entire war, lost what he probably felt was his most defining feature, watched as the whole world was going to die, and finally reached the goal he had set out for himself to reach, of course he would never need a damn doctor" Mustang growled out, pushing forward and taking the keys from Falman, opening the door to the apartment.
The walls were beige, the floors a medium tan hardwood. The standard furniture was cream.
There were no punch marks on the walls, no sign of doors being slammed, no books piled up, no crackling edge that showed that alchemy had been used to cover up an accident.
A large whoosh of air left Mustang's lungs, and he knew, even before they began their hour long search of the apartment, that Ed was long gone. And that there was nothing left.
~~.~~
"Yes?"
"Alphonse...we just checked out Ed's apartment." Mustang spoke every word with precision and perfect diction, a bland mask kept over his features.
Silence followed, and then, "Sir, where is my brother?"
Mustang closed his eyes, and tried to swallow, his throat dry.
"He is gone, Alphonse."
I have no idea why I decided to write this again, I also don't know where it is going at this moment, but if you liked it, want it to continue, or have any ways to stop my muse from hiding the next chapter from me, please leave behind a review.
~Not Necessarily in Between