It's nearing evening by the time the knock comes. They all startle, some more dramatically than others. Maria greets them with a sunny smile that makes Roy feel old. So too does the young man who follows behind her. Ed's forger isn't much older than Ed is, but his handshake is firm and steady all the same.

"Ling Yao," he says. He and Edward have worked together on a number of occasions, and the way Ed tells it, Ling is a self-assured bastard whose only saving grace is his unparalleled skill in forgery. There's no trace of the flaws Ed so carefully enumerated in the young man standing before him, but he does have a forger's watchful, shuttered gaze.

Maria ducks out to guard the door, but before she does, she catches Roy's eye and nods minutely. Roy makes the introductions as they jam another chair awkwardly around the little table, his trepidation easing a little. "This is Jean Havoc, logistics, and Riza Hawkeye, our architect. Ed you know."

"We're acquainted," says Ling mildly. Ed rolls his eyes but says nothing, and Roy thinks it's definitely a milestone of personal growth for him.

"Right," he says, gesturing to the remaining seat. Ling folds himself elegantly into the chair.

Havoc begins to ask after Ling's journey, but Ling cuts him off with a raised hand, a little smile curling at the corner of his mouth. "Please. It was fine, I'm fine, but I've been on a train for eight hours and I'd like to know whether it was worth it."

Havoc snaps his lighter shut with a sharpness approaching irritation, but Roy laughs. "Fair enough," he says. "I know it's a bit cloak and dagger. How much do you know?"

Ling shrugs. "All Ed's told me is that it's complicated, and that there's a nice price tag attached."

Havoc turns to Ed with raised eyebrows, but Ed dismisses his concern with a wave of his hand.

"It's not really money we're after." Roy says delicately. "We'll pay you, but the job itself won't pay dividends."

Ling crosses his arms, but his face is impassive. "Right. As long as the cheque cashes, I don't really care. Tell me about the part where it's complicated."

Havoc clears his throat. "Inception," he says, fiddling with his lighter.

Ling's eyebrows creep up, but he leans forward all the same. "That is complicated," he says, a note of appreciation in his voice, and Roy thinks that for all Ed's reservations, his intuition was good.

"It's actually not that bad," offers Ed. "It's just emotional manipulation. The hard part is getting the opportunity and stabilizing the dream state. I've been working on a compound that-"

"We can discuss the technicalities later," Roy interjects. "Some ideas are harder to incept than others. This is going to be a tricky one. Three levels, a sedative, the whole thing."

Ling's eyebrows are nearly to his hairline. "Right. Militarization?"

"Probably," says Riza, unconcerned. What she means is Most definitely, but there's no sense in scaring him off just yet.

Ling whistles. "I don't know if complicated really covers it. Suicidal, maybe." His words are sharp, but he's taut with interest under his artfully rumpled clothes. Some days it feels like half the industry is made up of kids, all of them rash and undisciplined and nearly impossible to work with; Ling, it seems, is foolish enough to listen but not impulsive enough to leap at the first offer of money and daring. Roy thinks he should have been so lucky in his youth.

"And yet you're still sitting here," says Ed, smirking.

Amusement tugs at the corner of Ling's mouth. "Fine. Call it my death drive." He turns to Roy, his gaze shrewd. "But you still haven't given me any information."

"We need to know you can do it before we tell you what it is," says Riza, a note of apology in her voice.

Ling drums his fingers against his chin. "That old chestnut. Playing this one close, huh? Fair enough. But I need an assurance too."

Roy waits.

"I want an introduction to Olivier Armstrong," says Ling.

Roy frowns, and Havoc's eyes go comically wide. "How-?" Havoc says, and Roy knows he is frantically running back over the past six months in his head, looking for cracks.

Their backers are meticulously careful about maintaining their distance; if the link's been discovered, they're all going to find themselves hung out to dry in very short order. Roy glances at Hawkeye; the line of her back has tensed. She sets her pencil and sketchbook down carefully and leans back in her chair, coiled and alert despite her casual posture.

"Uh," says Ed guiltily.

"Jesus fucking Christ Edward, are you trying to get us all killed?" Havoc snaps. "What, did you put it on Facebook?"

"Oh calm down," Ed bristles, "and don't get your panties in such a twist. I'm not a fucking idiot. It came up."

Roy pinches the bridge of his nose. There's a pulsing headache building in his left temple. "How. How did it come up?"

Ling shrugs expansively. "I didn't come all this way as a favour. I needed something I could use, and a connection to the Armstrongs I certainly can. It might be easier on all of us if you make the introductions though." He follows the sentence with a smile, as if it wasn't nearly a threat.

Roy sighs heavily. "I'll see what I can do." He can't exactly fault the kid for looking out for himself, nor particularly Ed for doing what he had to, but it galls him all the same: they need Ling and he evidently knows it. But at least his allegiance costs more than just money.

"After the job," Roy adds. "If I'm going to recommend you, I'd better know what I'm talking about."

Ling purses his lips wrly, but he nods. "Fine. Fair enough. Now, shall we get on with it?"

Havoc shakes his head as he sets up the PASIV, mumbling something about being overworked, underpaid and in need of a drink.

Roy fiddles with his cannula, eventually selecting a vein in the web between his thumb and forefinger; it's one of the few places on his hands he can still get the needle in. The rest, though, is easy; the compound hits, and he's gone.


The dream is Riza's, all crisp lines and high windows. The room is somewhere between a library and a solarium; light pours in from the windows and spills over high white bookshelves. Potted plants cluster along the windowsills; there are always plants or flowers in Riza's dreams. He's never been able to figure it out; but perhaps she just likes them. They spend enough time in each other's heads that searching out symbolism is a fool's errand. He'll leave her her flowers, and will happily call it a mystery.

A few of his projections move among the shelves, but they pay the four of them no need. Ed sprawls in one of the white modernist chairs in much the same manner as he had up in the work room. But here, his left leg ends just under the knee.

"Didn't bring your leg with you?" says Ling. It's hard to tell if he's teasing or not.

Ed glares. "Running around on it makes the phantom act up, and I've had more than enough of it this week. I'm trusting Mustang's projections not to come after us at this particular moment."

"Well, I promise to behave myself," says Roy. Ling looks like he's about to ask more questions, so Roy cuts in. "Now, Mr. Yao, let's go for a walk and see what you can do."

"Don't mind me," says Ed. Roy plucks a book from the nearest shelf and passes it to him.

"Entertain yourself."

Ed takes it like it's a live snake. "This better not be a book of your weird sex fantasies."

Roy grins. "I keep those up near the ceiling at the back, so you should be okay."

"Even that is way too much information," Ed says with a grimace.

Havoc laughs; Roy avoids looking at Riza.

The four of them disperse into the bookshelves, slipping in amongst the projections. He wanders the shelves, trailing his fingers over the nameless books of his thoughts and memories. The projections mostly ignore him, but Roy studies them as he passes, looking for signs that one is a forgery.

Roy rounds a corner, and though it doesn't surprise him anymore, it can't, he still goes cold. Maes is rifling through a book, pushing his glasses up his nose as he scans the index. Above, Roy's heart will be hammering in his chest.

Maes looks up, a crooked grin blooming across his face. "Roy! Good to see you. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Yeah, Hughes." He should walk away, should leave this splinter of a memory behind. But he doesn't.

"You know, the index to this book still isn't complete," says Hughes conversationally.

"I'm working on it," he mutters.

"The most important entry is still missing," says Maes softly. "The last question still unanswered."

"I know. I'm almost there."

Maes meets his eyes. "I know you'll figure it out, Roy. God knows once you set your mind to something, it's just a matter of time." Then, more softly. "I'm counting on you."

Roy does not reach out to squeeze his shoulder; instead, he clenches his hand into a fist at his side. "Do you seriously think I would turn away from investigating your murder?"

He chuckles. "Not really, no. But that doesn't mean I'm not going to give you shit about it."

"I really have to go, Maes," he says with a sigh.

Hughes frowns. "Oh come on, stay for a bit. We never get to chat anymore."

Roy swallows. "I'm a little short on time."

The shade waves him off. "Fine, have it your way. But come by and talk sometime. You know where to find me."

"Yeah. Sure." He turns on his heel before Maes can say anything else.

Roy keeps his steps steady and even as he walks away; there's no use running. He schools his face to a careful composure; only Riza will read the his tells in the tightness at the corners of his mouth and eyes.

When he turns into the next row of shelves, she's walking toward him. It's not his projection of her-that Riza has shorter hair; she looks a little like she did when they were younger. This is Riza today, with her strong shoulders and the stride of a woman who knows where she's going. But still, she smiles a little when she sees him, and that's not right at all.

"Nice try, Ling."

A frown. "I'm not-"

Amusement tugs at the corner of his mouth. "We've been together a long time. There's no way you could fool me after meeting her for five minutes."

Riza's face in front of him wavers and resolves into Ling, who shrugs. "It was worth a shot."

"It was a good one," Roy allows.

"I got Havoc for a bit there," Ling says, not without pride.

"You have the walk down. It's the facial expression that gave you away."

Ling rolls his shoulders. "It's always the face. Hardest part of a forgery, every time."

"Was I the last?"

Ling nods, so they make their way back to the centre of the library. Riza and Havoc are already there; she takes one look at him and frowns. The tilt of her head asks a question; Roy answers by dropping his gaze. There will be time enough later.

"I hear he got you, Havoc," he says, seating himself next to Riza.

Jean rolls his eyes. "Only for a minute."

"Still, one minute on five isn't bad. And it was an audacious choice, trying to fool us with each other. God knows this job is as much audacity as skill."

"Gee, thanks," says Ling dryly.

He glances at Riza again, and she nods; it's all he needs, all he's ever needed. Ed shrugs, as if to say, I told you so.

"You gonna explain this to me now?" asks Ling.

Riza's the one who starts. "Have you heard of Amest Industries?"

Ling frowns. "Sounds familiar. Aren't they an arms manufacturer?"

Riza nods. "They just signed a big production deal on a new prototype. The deal was orchestrated by a name named James Bradley."

"Never heard of him."

"Yeah, well, you wouldn't have," says Roy evenly. "He's a spook. High up NATO type. Heads a bunch of spec ops task forces, that kind of thing."

"Friend of yours, I'm guessing?" Ling's glib facade doesn't make his scrutiny any more comfortable, but the story has to get told sometime.

"I-we-worked for him," he says.

"So what happened? They screw you?"

Roy thinks of the shade wandering the stacks and is silent a long moment. "I was an extractor, Hawkeye was my architect. Our last assignment with Bradley was an extraction on a scientist working on nerve agents."

"We only found out later that Bradley wanted the information to weaponize it," Hawkeye adds.

Ling's eyes widen, and his nonchalance cracks. "You mean like chemical weapons? Aren't there laws against that?"

Edward barks out a laugh. "There are laws against a whole bunch of things."

"You really think they're gonna use it though? I mean, nerve agents, that's a whole other level."

Roy glances at Hawkeye again; her face is utterly impassive. "It was tested about a year and a half ago. Basically wiped a village in Afghanistan off the map," he says. "It got reported as an insurgent strike, but it was a test run. Full production is slated to start in July."

Ling passes a hand over his face. "And let me guess, you plan to stop it? You weren't kidding about the audacity."

"Go big or go home," says Havoc with a shrug.

Ling looks like he might be considering it, actually. "Here I was thinking this was going to be a little light corporate espionage."

"Our backers have corporate interests in the the matter, but for us it's a little more personal," says Roy.

"Yeah, I gathered that." Ling looks like he wants to probe further, but thinks the better of it; the piercing look recedes into the smirking indifference Roy is quickly beginning to recognize. "So how in God's name are you going to incept someone who sounds like a professional cold-hearted bastard into giving up a multi-billion dollar weapons deal?"

"He has a son," answers Riza. "It's not much, but it's what we have to go on. If we can get to him through his son, we might have a shot of convincing him to dismantle it."

"And that's where you come in," adds Roy. He peers hard at Ling. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-one." It's probably untrue, but Roy's not going to press him on it. Hell, he still doesn't know Edward's exact age.

"Well now you're seventeen, and going to boarding school. That should give you three months to study Selim Bradley. Will that be enough?"

Ling nods. Roy is about to continue, but Riza looks up like someone has called her name.

"I think our time's up," she says, but the words are already fading; Roy's answer splinters into the crevices of the dream, lost to the cracks of light already growing under his eyelids.