Universe: Gacia

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist

Story: Weather The Storm

AN: So, sorry for the wait, but I'm still working on how to develop Talia's character. Again, please tell me about any grammar or spelling issues, I'm working without an editor and I can only catch so many myself.

Warning: Language, but if you've watched the show you've probably heard the words before.

Disclaimer: Yada yada yada I own nothing. (Except Talia, mwahahahaha)

"So the name 'Elric' has become quite famous around these parts." Mustang said. Talia nodded.

"Edward and Alphonse? Yes, being his children, they would be." She said contemplatively.

"Oh?"

"Smartest bastard I know. Only makes sense he would pass it on to them." Mustang let out a small chuckle. She looked at him.

"Something funny?" She asked, honestly not knowing what she had done. He stifled the laughter with a cough.

"Nothing, it's just becoming more and more obvious the two of you are related." Now Talia was confused. Which one of them was he referring to? She had met the two boys briefly after Trisha's... funeral, and they seemed nice enough. A bit in shock, but that was better than the alternative, she supposed. She couldn't stay too long though, because no one really wanted her there and no one even tried to hide their hostility.

Talia couldn't think of a response to that, but she didn't have to because the car stopped. It looked like they were outside of an apartment building, but it was hard to tell in the dark. A thought bubbled up in the back of her mind, nagging at her consciousness.

"Why did they send you?" Talia wondered aloud. Roy looked at her quizzically. "Well, I could have just as easily found my own way here, wherever here is, or they could have sent someone of a lower rank." She elaborated.

"Heaven help the man who understands the mind of the Fuhrer." Was his cryptic reply. Hawkeye glanced over at him from the driver's seat where he sat, an amused look in her eyes. Like there was an inside joke somewhere in his statement. A small pang of despair shot through her long-cold heart, and she grimaced slightly at herself. She had been gone too long, she had missed too much. She didn't get the jokes. Ah well, it didn't really matter. Who knew how long she would be here, after all.

She really was tired. That nap on the train hadn't served to do more than take the edge off of her exhaustion. The silence was stretching on a bit, so in hopes of preventing it from becoming awkward, she spoke up.

"I'm going to need a key." She stated simply. Mustang's eyes widened a little.

"Right, err." He started patting down his pockets, "I have it some-" He was cut off by Hawkeye calmly holding the desired object in front of him.

"You left it back at the office, Sir." The woman said calmly. Talia grinned a bit to herself and accepted the small bit of metal when it was handed back to her.

"Well, I'd better be going." Talia said lightly, opening the door and stepping out onto the sidewalk, carry-on in hand. She heard the car pull out behind her, and started for the building. The night was rather cold and she couldn't wait to get out of it. Glancing at her key, she absently noted the room number. 7C. Looking up and counting the windows, she saw that there were seven floors. Smiling, she opened the door and entered the dimly lit lobby.

"So the surprise guest was her?" Hawkeye summed up after a minute or two of silence.

"I sincerely hope the Fuhrer knows what he's doing." Mustang answered simply, his head held in his hand and propped up by his elbow, staring out the window at the dark scenery passing outside the car.

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The Next Day...

Talia didn't like being woken up early. Sure, she put up with it, and over the years she had even gotten used to it, but that didn't mean that she had to like it, especially when it was because of the doorbell sounding obnoxiously loudly. This time when she looked blearily up and the clock and saw that it was 4:30 in the morning, she was downright pissed. She had been having her first night of uninterrupted sleep in days, and then some stupid-

She opened the door and tried mask her annoyance. The young man who stood there was dressed in a mailman outfit, and behind him was several crates.

"Is this the residence of Colonel Talia Elric?" He asked. He looked normal enough, but one could never be sure.

"Who wants to know?" The man frowned a bit.

"I have a delivery for her." He replied. Talia scanned the crates. There were five of them, all cubic, all made of wood, all about three feet tall. In other words, they were identical to the ones she had shipped off, if looking a little bit battered.

"Alright." Talia accepted the clipboard and signed it. The man checked to make sure the paperwork was all filled out, then with a nod to her he left. The crates were heavy, but with a light application of wind alchemy, Talia was able to carry them just fine. Almost subconsciously she glanced down at her wrists to ensure that both bracelets were still there. She didn't need to check for the necklace, it's comforting weight pressing against the skin just below her neck. Three. Three transmutation circles disguised as jewelery, three types of alchemy that when working together created Meteorologically Specialized Alchemy. Or, since referring to it as such usually got her strange looks, Weather Alchemy.

After taking the time to flip through each and every book to check for damages, and look for bombs, she left the crates there for the time being. This apartment didn't look to have the shelf space anyways.

She did have to be at work in forty five minutes, Talia noted, glancing at the clock. Even after all these years, she knew where Central Command was, and looking out of the window, she could see the street sign at the corner. Pulling out the map of Central, she plotted the route from here to work and was pleased to note that it should take no more than 10 minutes on foot.

Since she had about half an hour with nothing to do, she decided to take a morning walk. It was quite nice, she decided, being back in Central. It wasn't exactly the same, not in broad daylight, but it was similar enough for her to have a basic sense where she was. The sun was still coming up, casting a soft light down the east-west avenue she was walking down. It was lined with small shops, and the delicious smells drifting out of one of them reeled her in like a fish on a line. The girl behind the counter was nice, and obviously used to dealing with the military, because she didn't even start when she saw the uniform she donned.

So Talia ordered scones and tea and sat down to eat, looking over her alchemical notes and making adjustments here and there. A habit really, back from the days when she wanted to avoid looking up at the world or possibly garnering the attention of any of the unattached young men. Not that anybody looked twice at her in West City, where her face and name were matched together for all to see. At least here the title 'Stormcloud Alchemist' wasn't quite paired with the face she bore, most people imagining a rather more impressive figure.

After finishing her impromptu breakfast, she stood and smiled at the young woman behind the counter. The woman smiled back, and gave a friendly wave of farewell as Talia left the shop. The way Talia saw it, there was no reason not to be nice to people, so long as she wasn't being ordered to kill them.

So, as Talia was walking down the street, she passed by a dimly lit alley. Something moved out of the corner of her eye, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Turning her head slowly, she saw a small shape sprawled on the ground, and a wet, irregular gasping sound that must have been it's labored breathing.

Talia wanted to help it, but she was no fool. She knew what happened to people who stepped into allies. While the morning light made it so that she could see, she couldn't do so very well.

She had a gun on her, and all of her transmutation circles. Thus feeling reasonably safe, she stepped forwards and crouched down to examine the figure. Peeling back the dirty blanket that shrouded it, she saw... she saw...

Talia Elric, the Stormcloud Alchemist, Veteran of both the Ishval and Creta Wars, stumbled backwards and had to resist the urge to vomit at the raw horror she felt at the sight.

AN: Mwah ha ha. I love cliffhangers, they make me feel so evil. (: