DISCLAIMER: The original anime Hagane no Renkinjutsushi and the movie Shambala wo Yuku Mono are based on characters by Arakawa Hiromu, with writing by Aikawa Shou. Characters, settings, and events have been adapted without authorization or approval, and I am making no profit from their use.
"How the Leopard Got His Spots"
Roy reached for another rubber band and sighted it over his finger and thumb toward the Drachman border on the map on his far wall. Discerning the probable location of the raiders' base of operations in the North was no simple task. The only conclusion he could reach was that they had no local base, as scattered as the approach patterns were. The soldiers stationed at Briggs Fortress, who had taken the incursion very personally, confirmed that. Although they were searching the mountains and surrounding lowlands with a tenacity that his sources assured him could not be adequately expressed in words, they hadn't been able to provide any hint as to how to take the raiders out.
The Drachmans had disguised their operations as simple raids for food and water, but these were military strikes. The effects of the attacks had been too debilitating to be caused by looting. Transportation and communication systematically destroyed, power plants ruined, attempts to rebuild foiled - not to mention the unexplained water shortages. Amestrian military presence had been increased, especially near the border, but that hadn't helped much. The populace in the North had been riled to the brink of revolt in less than three months, and he knew better than to think the raiders were successful because Major General Armstrong's men were incompetent. They were anything but.
With a snap, he let his rubber missile fly off his finger and silently rooted for this one to hit, but it landed with a couple dozen others in a scattered pile on the floor instead.
One more time today, he'd come up short.
Luckily, one of the best and most intuitive visual thinkers he'd ever had the pleasure of usurping had rejoined his team yesterday. Roy had felt a particular hum in the air this morning when he thought about it, like a premonition that he just needed to throw the problem at Edward and they'd find the break they needed; so he'd asked Lt. Breda to take down the map of attacks that they'd assembled over the past few weeks. Edward had his own methods for doing things. Better not to get in the way.
Edward, he thought, and that smile that had been haunting him since yesterday snuck back into place while he pushed the marking pins for the map into a pile on his desk.
Edward Elric.
He must have imagined ten thousand times how that homecoming would happen, and though his fantasies had generally included more explosions, earthquakes, and destruction of property than did the eventual truth, Edward was always Edward. He remained singular and indestructible.
Thank goodness for that.
The other alchemist's insistence on keeping his note had been a strange surprise, of course. He'd fully expected his bit of paper to die honorably, shredded to dust in a fit of Fullmetal's anger. But there it had been, completely intact; and there it had gone, back into Edward's coat pocket if his ears hadn't deceived him. Well, in all fairness, he wasn't certain what he'd have done with it had Edward left it yesterday. If Fullmetal wanted to hold onto it still, Roy could be sure his embarrassing keepsake was in good hands.
As he looked down to push the marking pins into their box, he heard the door open and bang against the wall in a very particular way that no one in five years had been able to duplicate.
"- never thought I'd see the day! Nah, Fuery?" Havoc was saying in the outer office.
"Well, it's good to have you back, Edward-kun."
"Oh, but that's Lieutenant Colonel Edward now, isn't it?"
His long lost protege barked, "Who the hell asked you?" followed by a percussive shudder in the wall when he slammed the door closed.
Nine AM. Right on time.
"So you decided to grace us with your presence, Fullmetal?" He kept his attention locked on the paperwork on his desk until he could be sure he'd gotten that smile under control.
"Well, it's not like I can trust you to run the country on your own, Roy."
He could tell the difference between the strides and habitual sounds of every member of his staff - Hawkeye's almost silent, smooth glide, Havoc's easy saunter, Falman's crisp march. The slightly uneven rhythm of Edward's footsteps was an oddly sweet sound after his office had been missing it for so long. The refrain ended with an equally nostalgic 'flump' as Fullmetal dropped into the chair in front of his desk and asked, "So, what've you got?"
Roy dropped the box of flags on top of the reports on the border raids. "Well, I hope you remember your local geography-"
When he looked up, his voice left him. It was certainly Edward slumped in the chair, with a bored expression on his face and one cheek resting firmly on a fist. Edward's choice of attire, however... that was the Amestrian military uniform. The Lieutenant Colonel's rank insignia on the shoulders meant, of course, that it was properly Edward's. Still, it seemed unlikely that the Fullmetal Alchemist had developed between yesterday and today the kind of military attitude that led to wearing duty blues out of some sense that he ought to, with or without Roy's permission to wear civilian dress instead.
Not that he was wearing it in a manner one could call 'regulation'. In fact, leaving the jacket half-open while walking the hallways was likely to get him court-martialed if one of the other generals caught him. There were some places and situations where the brass would overlook it, but a workday in Central Headquarters wasn't one of them.
The young man raised an eyebrow at Roy's long pause. "Because...?" he prompted.
Mustang coughed into his hand. "Edward. I believe I mentioned yesterday that you are a plainclothes officer. The uniform isn't necessary."
"These're clothes, aren't they?" the blond growled. "Now, what's the geography you need me to know?"
Well, that'd been unexpectedly defensive. Should he drop it? Tell Edward to button his jacket? No, he'd probably only get a warning if the brass caught him today, not a full court-martial. And if he was wearing the uniform because 'they were clothes', then it wasn't likely to be a problem in the future. The border raiders, on the other hand, were already a problem. He pushed the pile of incident reports toward Edward. "The North, around the Briggs Mountain Range. You'll be studying this series of attacks and submitting a written report on your findings to me by close of business today. You can use the map on the wall."
"Right," Edward answered. He picked up the pile and pulled a note tag off of the top report. After he twirled it around in his fingers and took a glance at the empty map, the blond shot a dirty look across the desk. "Roy?"
"Yes, Edward?"
"Are these the same things that were on the map yesterday?"
"Well spotted, Fullmetal." He took his next piece of business from his inbox while his 'subordinate' threw the stack of reports back on the desk with a snarl. "Never let it be said that your perception has become at all dull."
"Is there a reason why you took the map down in the first place?"
"Of course. I want it to be put up by you. Is that so difficult?" The suspicious glare Edward shot him from across the desk was nothing unusual. It was the way he pulled at his collar that Roy wondered at. It didn't look too tight. And yet, Edward swallowed hard and unbuttoned another button, letting the jacket fall all the way open with a stiff shrug while he reached for the papers. Without thinking, Roy blocked Edward from taking the pile.
"What now?" A hint of fire crept into the other alchemist's face as he jumped up and yelled, "Do you not want me to put your piece-of-shit makework map back on the wall?"
"After you change your clothes."
"What?"
"That uniform doesn't suit you."
"Doesn't suit me?" One of Fullmetal's eyebrows started to twitch, and the blond ripped the blue jacket off his shoulders to shake it over Roy's desk. "Well, I'm sorry if I don't match your decor! Except, oh wait... I do." He slapped the jacket down on the back of the chair where he'd been sitting. "Everyone in this damn place is wearing one! What's the big deal? It's just pants, a shirt, a jacket... okay, the skirt's kind of stupid. I might as well take that off," he said. One clap, and he tore away the flap hanging from the waistband on his pants and slapped it down on top of the jacket. It took all the composure Roy had not to laugh at the sight. "But they're clothes," the blond finished. "I'm wearing them. Why do you care?"
Roy twirled his pen while he tried to think of a reason other than Edward's own obvious discomfort. "Blue isn't your color," he answered. Edward would find that difficult to argue with, at least.
"Say what?"
The tone of confusion was all he could have asked and more. "You're dismissed until you find a change of clothing, Fullmetal."
Instead of leaving, however, Edward sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Sorry, but no can do. You're gonna have to deal."
"I beg your pardon. Certainly you must be capable of changing your clothes. You did so between yesterday and today."
"My only change of clothes is in the wash. I've been wearing it for three freaking days straight, and I'm not going to keep transmuting it clean when I've got something else to wear." Roy's eye went wide, and Edward cocked his eyebrow at him again. "What? Did you think I brought luggage?"
"Last time I checked, we didn't have a shortage of tailors in Central."
The way Edward's nose twitched when he was annoyed still hadn't ceased to amuse. "Two days hiking across the East, bartering for food, then dealing with the freaking generals, and when I get off, you expect me to go clothes shopping? I don't even have any money!"
"Your paychecks have been going to the bank for five years, Fullmetal." Roy rested his chin on one hand. This was more fun than he'd remembered. "You have money."
"Yeah, that's great," the blond spat back. "When the banks are open. And besides, what bank is going to take an ID card from another dimension? I've been on Earth, remember? No papers."
He did have a point there. He hadn't received his papers yet, as Roy had only issued the order to have them printed late yesterday and they hadn't been ready until this morning. The envelope had to be in here somewhere. Fuery had left it in his inbox, hadn't he? Roy found the packet handed it to Edward, who looked it over suspiciously. "Your identification papers. Go buy yourself some clothes. We wouldn't want you to have to go all week without a proper change of clothing, now would we?"
"Tsch." The blond peeked inside the envelope with a sigh. "Fine. I'll go find something that's less blue so it doesn't hurt your eyes to look at me. But just so we're clear," he said, pointing a finger at Roy, "This is weird, and you're a freak."
"So noted."
Edward stood, then tucked the paperwork and the remnants of what had once been his uniform under one arm. Roy had to smile again, watching him leave. Edward never walked anywhere. He always ran, sauntered, or looked like he was being force-marched in front of a firing squad. Of course, if he were ever actually taken in front of a firing squad, he'd probably be sauntering.
When he threw open the door, Havoc and Fuery had to jump back to let him pass. They couldn't pretend they hadn't been listening. "Leaving so soon?" Havoc asked.
"Take it up with Colonel Jackass." Edward stopped walking to yell over his shoulder. "He says there's nothing going on in Security that's more important than my coat not matching my eyes!"
"For the moment, there's not," Roy answered. "But don't dawdle. I still expect that report on the border raids on my desk by five PM."
"Can't I just tell you what I figure out?" he asked. Roy shot him a look to indicate, No, you may not. Edward understood perfectly, if Mustang could judge from his scowl and mutter of, "Asshole," before he walked the rest of the way out of the office.
It was certainly pleasant to watch Edward walk away in a huff when he'd be sure to return in a matter of hours - far more so than it was to watch him walk away and never know when he might come home. Besides which, Roy knew he'd come back wearing pants he'd picked out himself rather than the baggy-legged trousers that the military issued to all of its officers. Forcing people with nice-looking legs to wear those things would be a crime as soon as he had any say in the matter, and Edward had always had very nice legs.
If Roy's mental processes had had tires, he would have heard them squealing on the theoretical pavement as he slammed on the brakes.
... 'Always'? Certainly he was just thinking Edward had been easy on the eyes yesterday. He couldn't really have meant 'always'.
A quick flash through his memories revealed that, yes, he probably did mean 'always'. Clear images from the invasion three years ago that he couldn't have formed without looking, and from the last time he saw Edward before...
He stopped flipping through the years before he got any further back. Best not to wonder when he'd developed that particular opinion, really. The answer probably wasn't legal.
Roy bit his lip and refocused on his paperwork.
Note to self: never mention this to anyone.
~/~
"- and you'll be expected to give your presentation on the measures we can take to prevent increased smuggling of contraband materials," Hawkeye concluded, handing the agenda for the council meeting over to Roy.
He looked it over and sighed, but didn't respond.
Before she could glance at the next item that would need the Brigadier's attention, the door blew open like a shot and Edward stomped in, scowled at Roy, then took a pile of papers off the corner of the desk. Oddly enough, he still had a tag dangling from the cuff of his shirt. When he turned and walked toward the map on the wall, she could see that he had another tag hanging from the back of the red vest he was wearing.
"Good to have you back, Fullmetal," Roy called out.
"I'm not changing again," Edward answered without turning around.
Hawkeye looked back to the man who was theoretically in charge of this office and who needed to hear the rest of his day's schedule only to find Roy leaning on his hand with a tiny grin turning up the corners of his mouth.
As he ignored his paperwork in favor of watching Edward.
"No, you're fine," he said. Hawkeye sighed and wondered if 'watching Edward' was something he planned to get over quickly. A brief examination of his expression told her, 'No', of course. Sometimes, Roy Mustang brought new levels to the word 'incorrigible'.
"Thanks," the blond replied, and stabbed a marking pin into the wall with a force she could hear clearly, even above the noise coming from the outer office. A certain Brigadier didn't seem dissuaded from admiring his subordinate by the fact that anyone could tell the young man would rather be stabbing pins into his commanding officer than into the map.
After rustling through the papers he'd taken, Edward asked, "Did you organize these by attack target?"
Roy's gaze turned sharp for an instant as he thought about what the other man had said. "They're in order by date."
Hawkeye rapped on the desk twice to get Roy's attention and focus it on his own work again. Edward could handle Edward's job, and he didn't need his commander interfering or gawking. At least the Brigadier had the sense to turn back to his paperwork as soon as he saw Hawkeye raise her eyebrow at him. Over the years, he'd demonstrated a surprising capacity to concentrate on his duties even when he seemed distracted by a pretty girl.
Or, apparently, boy.
Hawkeye was well acquainted with the manner in which Roy turned to look every so often from the paper in his hand over in the direction of his newly-returned fellow alchemist. That was the look he used when examining a target that he'd decided to pursue. One might have expected him to know better than to pick that particular target, though. Probably the last thing Edward would want would be for his commanding officer to take an unexpected liking to him. Not to mention that it was Edward Elric. She looked over her shoulder, just to check that the alchemist hadn't changed more drastically than she remembered from yesterday. Edward placed another flag in the map, examined the placement of all the flags so far, then tore them all out while grumbling. He seemed like the same Edward. After watching him flip through the papers and deal them out in several rows on the table by the wall, she turned back to Roy.
Who was once again ignoring the meeting agenda entirely, locked in contemplation of the blond in the corner.
Unbelievable.
There was no question that Edward had grown up into an attractive sort of young man, and that the leather pants he'd found fit him extremely well, but there were limits, even for certain Brigadier Generals.
Still, she took care to speak quietly enough that the young man himself wouldn't be bothered. "Brigadier General Mustang, sir. Have you no shame?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he answered just as quietly. And he may have decided to turn his eyes back to his meeting agenda, but he hadn't bothered to wipe the cat-in-the-cream grin off his face. Who did he think he was fooling?
"I heard from Captain Havoc that you and Edward-kun had your first fight just after he came in this morning."
"Oh, well, that couldn't have come as a surprise." He looked up from the few notes he'd taken to smile at her. Well, at least it was an improvement over his earlier lack of energy. Hawkeye hated to admit it most days, but his concentration did usually improve when he had a fresh source of entertainment around. "Tell me, who won the betting pool on how long we'd last?"
She tucked the rest of the day's schedule under her arm. "I believe it was a four-way tie, sir. However, Capt. Havoc also mentioned why you two were fighting."
"What about it, Captain?"
Oh, Roy. She rolled her eyes as he glanced up yet again to admire Edward in the corner. "Please tell me you didn't order Edward-kun to change out of his uniform because you wanted a better view."
Pointing one finger towards her, Roy went back to composing the presentation for this afternoon (which he really should have written last week). "First," he said at full volume, then paused to double-underline something in his notes, "I didn't give him an order. I made a suggestion." After he counted off a second finger, he lowered his voice again. "And second, my motivations were unimpeachable. Any improvement to the view is a happy side effect."
The way his attention turned toward the happy side effect of his suggestion and lingered before he returned to his notes didn't particularly help his case.
"But this is Edward-kun," she sighed. "Must you?" Hawkeye didn't see any danger per se in allowing Roy to make a fool of himself, since she rated it more likely to end with the Brigadier getting punched in the face than with with any hard feelings. The volume with which Edward would probably object, however, seemed like good enough reason to avoid a dalliance of the week with the elder Elric brother.
Roy kept writing intently, but his voice sounded oddly tense when he replied. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with finding him attractive. I assure you, I didn't have a single impure thought about him until two and a half hours ago."
Hawkeye narrowed her eyes and stared at him in silence. The edges of his ears turned faint red as she watched, which meant he was unusually embarrassed about something. Very unusually embarrassed. And that... Well, that really had been a very specific thing for him to say in such a general context.
"Sir..."
He set down his pen and looked up slowly, ears turning ever more red.
"Roy Mustang. Is there some reason why I should wonder when you started 'having impure thoughts' about Edward-kun?"
The Brigadier General in charge of national security cleared his throat quite uncomfortably and turned his gaze toward the paperwork on his desk. "Ah, no. No reason whatsoever," he muttered. "Well, I really ought to get this presentation ready." The way he rubbed at his eyebrow while he focused was a dead giveaway that he was hiding something.
Oh, please don't let him have meant what that sounded like.
Before she could think of anything to say, the shuffle of papers and the occasional footsteps from the other side of the room gave way to an echoing stride aimed straight for Roy's desk. "Coming through," Edward said. "Don't mind me."
Hawkeye kept her eyes on Roy while the blond circled the desk and opened a drawer. As soon as the younger man rounded the corner, a certain Brigadier's attention was fixed to his paperwork and his pen was diligently writing line after line of notes. He didn't even stop to ask Edward why he'd approached. The alchemist poked through the drawer and dropped one hand on the back of Roy's chair, prompting the Brigadier to sit forward suddenly. By now, his ears were just about crimson, which was the first time she'd seen them turn quite that shade. Finally, Edward pulled a package of colored markers out of the drawer and pushed it closed with his hip. Roy very carefully didn't see this, having put his hand up at the side of his face and leaned his chin sharply in the other direction.
Once the blonde turned to walk back around the desk again, Roy was willing to sneak a glance. A short one. He zipped right back to his paperwork when Edward stopped and reached into his pocket. "Oh, here," he said. She wasn't sure what it was at first, but saw quite clearly when the Fullmetal Alchemist walked back to drop the handful dead-center on what the Brigadier was writing. And Roy Mustang very nearly flinched at the sight of at least a score of rubber bands suddenly falling on top of his hand. "I found those."
His famous composure returned quickly. Even the blush in his ears receded a bit as he picked up one of the rubber bands and dropped it in the dish where he usually kept them. "Ah, thank you, Fullmetal," he told Edward with a nod. "I was wondering where those had gone."
"Sure."
Edward stalked off again with his markers, and Hawkeye watched Roy move the rubber bands one at a time to the dish without paying the least bit of attention to what he was doing. All of his focus stayed on the blond heading back over to the far wall. He'd clearly gotten over his attack of embarrassment, Hawkeye thought with a roll of her eyes. At least she could be fairly sure after that display that her friend and commander had at least a little shame. Also that he probably wasn't lying about having developed this particular interest earlier today. She'd have noticed something if he'd been acting like this yesterday (let alone before).
And that was really all she needed or wanted to know on the topic of Roy Mustang's 'impure thoughts'.
"So," she said, and paused to collect the Brigadier General's attention.
He looked back and forth between her and the rubber band dangling from his finger. "I can explain."
With a sigh, she shook her head and asked, "Have you given any thought to where Edward-kun's desk will be? There's a space he can take next to 2nd Lt. Fuery, though we'll have to move Capt. Havoc's diorama of the East City stickball pitch." Hawkeye couldn't say she'd be sad to see the coffee-cup masterpiece banished from their workspace.
"Oh, let him keep it." Roy shuffled away the last few rubber bands. "I don't really see Fullmetal sitting at a desk."
So much for taking out the garbage.
"Then you have a plan, sir?"
"Well, you know." He shrugged and rubbed his eyebrow again while he stalled. "I would imagine he'll be spending a lot of time in the field, like he used to."
"And while he's in the office?"
A wide grin broke across Roy's face. He turned towards the far wall and gestured out wide with his hands. "I've got all this room over here that we only use for planning sessions occasionally. There's a table he can have, and chairs, with plenty of bookshelves. And I think he'd fit quite well in the space by the window, don't you?"
Hawkeye pulled her list of the day's duties back out and crossed off 'Pick Edward-kun's desk' and 'Make Capt. Havoc move his art project', since those were no longer necessary. When a certain Brigadier had his mind made up as clearly as it was on this point, arguing with him was pointless. Even she couldn't say 'no' to Roy when he was excited enough to smile that way about moving Edward in. If they didn't get along, she'd always have the option of offering the desk next to Fuery later. "I think, Brigadier, that when you tell your plan to Edward-kun, you should try to sound less like he's a picture you mean to hang. Now, have you considered what you'll do when that space is needed for a meeting with other officers or any foreign dignitaries?"
No sense in waiting to address any issues that might be expected to arise.
"I'm certain I can issue him the necessary security clearances," Roy answered.
"You mean to have Edward-kun attending meetings with higher-ranked officers and visiting heads of state?"
"I don't see why not." He looked like he might be thinking of aiming his last rubber band at the back of Havoc's head. Hawkeye pulled it out of Roy's hand and dropped it in the storage dish, after which Roy could see that she was waiting quite patiently for him to explain why he felt Edward would be unlikely to cause an international incident. He went on with neither remorse nor shame. "He has good insights, and he may not like politics but he knows enough about how the game works. He can keep a civil tongue when it suits him, and when it doesn't suit him..." The Brigadier shrugged. "Any mess he can't get himself out of, it's always been worth my efforts to save him."
At least that sounded like he'd considered the situation before coming to a conclusion, and it wasn't as if Hawkeye had doubts about the alchemist's credentials. Good enough on that point. Not on some others. "There is, however, the matter of how much time you've spent ogling Edward-kun in the past while. Should I be concerned about your ability to concentrate on paperwork while he's in the room?"
"No need. I'm perfectly capable of balancing my recreational ogling and the expeditious accomplishment of my duties." As if he were trying to prove his point, Roy wrote two final lines on his notes for the presentation he was to give this afternoon. And didn't he look pleased with himself, too.
"Good," Hawkeye replied. "Because if I ever find myself under the impression that you'd be more efficient when fully blind, I won't hesitate to shoot out your other eye."
"Understood, Captain."
Over in the corner, Edward broke his relative silence with something that sounded quite a bit like, "Oh, shit." Both she and Roy turned to look at him. The blond had finished with his shuffling and rearranging, and stood perfectly still as he squinted at the map he'd covered with brightly colored notecards. The twist in his frown said he was deep in thought about something that wasn't particularly pleasant. "Colonel," he yelled, his eyes still fixed on the map. "I think you've got a problem."
"I'm sorry, Fullmetal, did you say something?"
With a loud sigh, he amended, "I think you've got a problem, Roy," sounding even more sarcastic than usual.
"I should say we do. Border raiders are inciting rebellion in the North. Make sure to include a solution in your report when you've analyzed the situation properly."
Hawkeye could have sworn that the young man's hair stood up even more on end when he arched his back and growled. He muttered something she couldn't make out, though she could imagine it was uncomplimentary and directed at a certain Brigadier General, then pulled a piece of paper to an open spot on the table. Edward yanked the lid off of one of the markers and scrawled something quickly, with extra loud squeaks as he wrote to make it perfectly obvious how annoyed he was, then marched across the office to Roy's desk. Any hint of a smile dropped off Roy's face as soon as Edward shoved the piece of paper into his commander's line of sight.
"Problem," the blond said, slightly louder than before, emphasizing each syllable.
Hawkeye bent behind Roy's head to see what he'd written. The purple streaks of ink read, "MY REPORT: Their orders are coming from Central."
Which would certainly constitute, as he had said, 'a problem'.
Roy took the paper and scanned it closely. "If you want a solution," the blond went on, "I say we find 'em and stop 'em. How's that?"
"Show me," Roy answered. His tone was all business, and Hawkeye nearly had to run to keep up with him as he followed Edward to the map.
The cities marked on the board were no different than they were yesterday or the day before, but Edward had added notes in various colors about what resources had been attacked by the raiders. "It's the research facility here," he said. The tag he pointed to had the word 'TRINGHAMS' written out in blue. "At first, I thought they got attacked because they were doing water reclamations, but that's not it. They're too soon. See, the Tringham's place was during the first wave, when the raiders went after telegraph depots, radio towers, and phone lines." He pointed out the three earliest attacks, with the names of lines that'd been destroyed listed in green. "Then they started concentrating attacks on transportation centers," Edward went on. He indicated two of the rail stations he'd marked in red, then moved onto the sites he'd marked in orange. "Third wave was power generators. They didn't start hitting water reclamations until after that. Al says most of those project sites didn't even exist back when the Tringhams got hit. They were just starting to set them up."
"Right." Roy nodded and squinted at the board. She remembered that the Brigadier had noticed the general pattern as soon as they'd been able to get any clear information from the area. That was how he'd known they had a guerrilla war on their hands, not an ordinary band of thieves. "So the research facility was taken out for another reason?"
"Yeah. Communications." Edward reached up with his green marker and added 'TG Line to Al' on the notecard. Hawkeye's breath stuck in her throat. She knew Alphonse had asked for Roy's help getting data from the Tringhams when all the communications lines had gone down, but the concern over water supplies had already been bad enough that no one had questioned the attack on the research facility. When Edward had capped the marker again, he frowned in Roy's direction. "Al said the Tringham brothers built their own telegraph system connecting to Central Headquarters to send in reports. Their work's classified, so it didn't go through any of the switching stations on the way. It was direct. Most of the hits the raiders made were things you could target based on local knowledge, but there's no way they knew about that line unless they had someone here."
"Someone high up," Roy said softly. "These attacks are targeted to destabilize the government's control. That's been clear from the beginning. I'd say you're right about that telegraph line, too, and I know a coup d'etat when I see it."
"So, remind me again why you're still not the Fuhrer?"
"Because I want to live in a democracy. So. We're going to need information on anyone close enough to power to grab for it."
Edward grinned from ear to ear. "You mean you want me to bug the offices of all the Generals on the council?"
"No, Fullmetal, I don't," Roy said with a sigh. "Speaking of which, we're not discussing any more of that here. Let's talk about the North. Now, messages are getting to the raiders somehow. All known communications lines are down, and we haven't picked up any open radio signals. That means couriers. Any idea where they might be coming in?"
"Well, their home base, probably. Where else would they go?" Edward tapped one of the cities on the map with his left hand: Hyrcania, a mid-sized rural town southwest of North City. If Edward were right about that, Hawkeye thought, a base of operations south of the attacks would support the idea that someone from inside was organizing the 'invasion'. It would also explain why the soldiers at Briggs had come up empty-handed. The raiders might not be crossing the border at all. There was a chance they weren't even from Drachma, though if she knew Roy, he wouldn't risk making an assumption like that yet.
The blond alchemist had his full attention - no surprise, if Edward had found the base Roy had been hunting for these past few weeks. "You're sure that's where they are?"
"Duh. If you track back the patterns of roads that're cut off by general attacks, Hyrcania's the only place that's never been fully surrounded. There's always been a way in and and a way out somewhere."
He'd gotten that from what data they'd been able to scrape together from communiques with the front lines and the stories from civilians who'd managed to flee? In less than an hour? Over the past few weeks, their whole department had been analyzing those reports. They'd thought they had a break when they worked out how many individual units were operating in the area. Any patterns might have shown where the next strikes would be, where they were coming from, where they were going - but there had been none. The attacks were chaotic. Had Edward managed to hold all that in his head and look through every movement for something that small? He hadn't even marked a single one of the minor scuffles on the map - just major assaults on resources. How...?
But did it matter how? She'd seen Edward's analyses in action before, and they hadn't found any better ideas yet. If he was advising Roy to check Hyrcania, she wouldn't argue.
The alchemist knitted up his brow and scrached his nose. "Plus, if they've got couriers coming from Central, that's perfect. See, basic shifts in roadblock patterns break down into a twelve-day cycle. I make about four days traveling the hard way from Central to Hyrcania, eight round trip. Two days on each end would do to hand over orders, get local intelligence, and resupply. Twelve days total. So, yeah, I'm pretty sure that's where they're gonna be." The blond alchemist turned his head up to Roy and scowled. "Why're you looking at me like that?"
For a moment, Roy looked like he'd just received the most perfect birthday present he could imagine. Once he managed to rediscover his restraint, he turned back to the map and rapped his fist on the city of Hyrcania twice.
Then he started patting Edward on the head, which only caused the blond to intensify his scowl.
"No reason," Roy said, and dropped his hand off Edward's head to pull on his ponytail. "Good dog."
"I hate you."
"Wonderful. Now, Hyrcania has nothing for communications but a local telephone network. If we can get some kind of secure transmissions in there, we'll have an edge. Two-way radios would be the easiest to move, but they'll be short range."
Edward let out a long sigh. "Get me the best equipment you can find, and I'll see what I can do to boost the signal. Getting through to Central directly is probably out of the question, but..." He pointed to the pin for the Tringham's research facility again. "If we can get that line to Al repaired, I can turn the whole valley into the biggest damn radio receiver you've ever seen. A, B, C," he said, and moved his finger from Hyrcania to the research facility to Central. "...and we're set."
The Brigadier didn't make a single move to silence Edward, even though he always operated under the assumption that the office had been bugged. If they were dealing with an internal threat tied to this 'invasion', his assumption was more than likely correct. He must have decided to use Edward's plan as a cover operation. If so, he would (she hoped) let her know the real goal before putting anything into action. In the meantime, Hawkeye added 'Find radios' onto the day's schedule. They would need them in any case.
"Make sure Alphonse-kun knows that no-one is allowed to know when those transmissions start coming in." When Roy hatched a plot, he usually did so quickly. Hawkeye kept her eyes and ears locked on him, ready for the word on what to do. For the moment, he leaned back on the table and fixed one hard eye on Edward. "As far as anyone outside this office is concerned, that line remains down."
"Al's not an idiot, you know."
"Tell him anyway." Roy studied the map in silence for a few moments longer. When he spoke again, his voice was soft and serious. Most people would have said he sounded calm. Hawkeye knew better. She had rarely ever heard him sound as worried as that. "Fullmetal. Connecting the radio system that way means we have to send you out there as soon as we can make preparations. No one else can manage it. And..."
The other alchemist leaned against the wall and crossed his arms across his chest. "Yeah. And what?"
"And it means I can't let you take Alphonse-kun."
Edward turned his head away without saying a word.
"He can't go north, you're not to discuss this with him in this building, and if you want to discuss it at home, I recommend you search thoroughly for wiretaps and other surveillance equipment before you do. If we involve him in this, our enemies will be able to see through the objective. Someone else will need to be your backup."
"I don't need a babysitter for this," Edward grumbled. "It's just the Tringhams."
The expression on Roy's face was strange. Hawkeye had never seen him hesitate to send the right person for the job before, no matter how dangerous it was. "Of course you need a babysitter," he told the young alchemist after an uneasy pause. "That's a war zone." While Edward was still looking away, Roy turned his face so Hawkeye couldn't quite see it clearly, but she could see him swallow and take a deep breath to regain his calm.
And she couldn't miss the way he played with the button on the pocket where he kept his gloves.
Roy. You're not...
Part of her job was to know what Roy Mustang was thinking, and she was good at her job. Roy needed her to be. But as much as she knew he cared for every one of his subordinates and didn't consider a person he cared for to be expendable, she'd never expected to see him so troubled as this about putting someone at risk. They'd all earned his trust long ago, Edward included. But Hawkeye could just barely see his hand clenching against the table now, and heard the strained edge on his voice.
"If I could, I'd send a full battalion to back you up, but that's not an option. So you're going to make do with the best man I have to send."
"I don't need-"
"If you have any complaints-"
"Lots!" Edward yelled as he whipped his head around with his eyes flaring.
The Brigadier stared down the other alchemist in silence, but not for long. After a moment, he took the page with Edward's 'report' scrawled in purple marker off the table and walked away toward the filing cabinets at the other end of room. With his back to both of them, his voice echoed loud across the office. "Keep them to yourself. I'm going with you. That's final."
Hawkeye watched him pull out a drawer and thumb through the tabs, too far away for she or Edward to read the expression on his face. Once he'd retrieved a thick file, he walked back to his desk without another glance at the corner, the map, or Edward.
For five years, she'd watched him miss the boy who'd disappeared, and she'd said 'Yes, sir' every time he'd insisted Edward Elric would come home someday. She'd seen how much it bothered him to think he'd lost one of the best friends he had left. No wonder it had been such a surprise to see his behavior earlier this morning. Roy took his friends far more seriously than he took his lovers. The expression on his face now said he hadn't expected to be so afraid of losing Edward again, the day after he'd come home. Maybe for good.
Edward stared after the Brigadier, far more placid than he'd been before. "You, huh?" he murmured, biting his lip. After a moment, he kicked his left foot against the floor and pushed off the wall. One by one, he found all the scattered markers under the map and on the table, and collected them into their case. "I guess I can't stop you," the blond called out loud enough for Roy to hear.
The words seemed to ease his mind. He let out a long breath, as if he'd been holding it in as he waited to hear if Edward would keep fighting him. "I'll need a full report - in writing, Fullmetal, for my eyes only." The Brigadier seemed to have recollected his poise once he looked up. "Still, this is good work. On our way out, I think I'll get you that drink I promised you."
"Why? If I'm thirsty, I'll get water."
A look of profound confusion passed over Roy's face as Edward took a seat at the table to work. The blond didn't notice, absorbed in his work as he was. "The intent is to go out somewhere and spend time together," Roy answered, now with a smile stealing across his lips. "The drink is a means to that end."
Edward's chair squeaked on the floor when he whipped around. "I don't want to drink things with you!"
"Don't be absurd. Of course you do."
Crimony, Roy. Do you have any idea that you're in love with him?
Well, as long as Edward seemed like he didn't want any part of being with Roy, she had no intention of raising the issue. "Brigadier General Mustang," Hawkeye interjected. "I can leave the rest of your schedule for you, sir, if there are any preparations you need me to make."
He turned and nodded. "Very good, Captain. I think it's going to rain on Sunday. If you could see to planning?"
"Yes, sir." She straightened up into a crisp salute and hurried away, with a stop to leave the schedule on Roy's desk as promised.
Once she reached the outer office, Capt. Havoc looked up from arranging his model stickball pitch. "Sounds like big plans in there."
"Brigadier General Mustang and Edward-kun are heading north to assess the situation at the border, so we'll have some work to do before they leave. The Brigadier has reason to believe it will rain on Sunday."
2nd Lt. Fuery joined Capt. Havoc in staring at Hawkeye, and Lt. Breda even consented to wake up from his nap and remove the book that had been covering his eyes. None of them wanted to hear those words, and she couldn't blame them. Investigating the upper brass to find out which member, or members, of the Council of Generals might be working with a foreign power to stage a coup and establish a new military dictatorship was risky and complicated. And if they got caught before they found what they needed, whoever they were hunting could roast everyone in their department with a tribunal, or worse.
But that was life when you wanted to work with Roy Mustang, and they all knew how not to get caught.
"Damn," Havoc replied, picking up the phone after the moment of silence ended. "Guess I'll have to cancel that picnic with Col. Armstrong."
~/~
"You have a code word for that?" Edward asked.
Roy had spent most of the walk from Headquarters to wherever this was explaining that the office was bugged, so they had to assume the enemy knew everything they knew, and from now on he wasn't allowed to breathe if he wasn't doing it in some stupid code where talking about the weather meant 'While I'm out of town, I think someone on the Council will try to overthrow the government, if you don't mind figuring out who he is'. That was worse than claiming 'Let's go out for a drink' actually meant, 'I want to tell you something secret and the office is bugged, so let's head somewhere noisy and public' and that Edward should have known all of that from context. How had that been even a little bit clear? It was saying one thing and meaning another, and if he didn't have the key to the code Mustang was using (which was a stupid code), then he was going to need a little more context than that to figure it out. This was why conspiracies sucked.
He sighed and walked through the door to the bar where Roy had led him. "I don't know how you people get anything done. What if you actually wanted to tell somebody you thought it might rain on a Sunday?"
"We handle the weather as it arises. This situation requires secrecy and pre-planning. Obviously, the code word was necessary."
"Yeah, well maybe you could have told me there was someone listening to our conversations before I explained how I actually got back from Earth, or did I not mention how I didn't want the military to know about that?"
"Your secret's safe, Fullmetal," he answered. They took two stools at the far end of the bar, a little ways apart from the crowd. "I take the bugs out of my desk. I leave them in the meeting spaces to keep our enemies from getting any more creative. Besides, covert intelligence is a double-edged sword." Roy took off his hat and set it on the bar beside them. "If my enemy knows something he could only have learned by spying, then I know my enemy."
Edward stretched his hands over his head. It'd been a long, sucky day. "I can't believe I finally get home and you're running another conspiracy."
Roy laughed as he waved over the man minding the store. "It's still the same conspiracy, Fullmetal. Nations are rarely rebuilt in five short years."
"Mustang-san. What can I get for you?" the bartender asked.
"Bourbon on the rocks."
"And for-"
Edward found himself staring back at the hard, blue eyes of a man with greying hair who clearly didn't think he belonged here. The bartender glanced back at Roy for a second, then puzzled up his face. Even before the man asked, he knew what was coming.
"... How old are you, kid?"
"Look, I'm twenty-"
But he swallowed his words before the number got out. He wasn't actually twenty-nine. The birth year his dad had put on his papers was just a (sometimes convenient) failure to do math - and it wasn't going to fly now that he was back here. There was a slim chance he'd aged extra when he'd gone through, but only if time had done something when he'd jumped to Earth that he was pretty sure wasn't possible, and which still wouldn't make him 29 because it left open the question of whether coming back to Amestris had eliminated or reduplicated the effect, which might make him as old as... Four trips times six years (assuming the years had been dropped, not just numbered differently), plus twenty-three years he'd lived through... 47? So, no. No way. If that'd happened at all, it had been canceled out, and it probably hadn't ever happened. As for things that he did need to reconcile, he'd spent seven years over there and now everyone was telling him he'd been gone for five, and depending on which of four different things had happened, the relative rate of timeflow might have up to four different constants. Assuming he'd thought of everything.
What a headache.
'How old are you?' was a better question than he'd thought.
"You said it's 1920?" he asked Roy. The bastard nodded, with that smarmy-ass smile that Edward could never figure out why he liked. "Okay. So I've got to be twenty-one at least. Well, probably. I'll be damned if I know how I'd get any younger."
The bartender cleared his throat. "I'm gonna have to see some ID." With a sigh, he pulled out the stupid card Roy had given him this morning and handed it over, while the man himself laughed at the whole situation.
It wasn't funny. He really didn't know how old he was.
Okay, so it was a little bit funny.
"Sorry about the trouble," the bartender said, handing back the card. "So, what'll it be?"
Edward scanned the array of bottles on the back wall and pointed to something bright yellow in a bottle that stuck up five inches above everything else. "I'll have that."
The man put two glasses out in front of them and shook his head. "All right, kid. You want 'that' on the rocks or straight up?"
Which meant what, exactly? Well, Roy had ordered his 'on the rocks', so...
"Straight up."
When the man poured the drinks, it turned out the distinction was between 'ice' and 'no ice'. No wonder Roy liked this place if you had to use little code phrases to explain things when you could just say what you mean. Codes belonged in research notes, or when you really had something to hide, not when you were trying to tell random people what you wanted to drink.
"Cheers," Roy said.
Edward clinked his glass against the Colonel's and took a sip of the yellow stuff the bartender had poured into it. Wasn't bad, whatever it was. Tasted kind of like vanilla.
Roy frowned at the brown stuff he'd ordered. "We leave for the North as soon as your mechanic can replace your automail," he said, but after starting in on business he fell into a quieter tone. "You finally get home, and the next day I ask you to go on a mission and leave your brother behind. I suppose that timing leaves a great deal to be desired."
That was more apology than he'd needed, really. They were going north for, what? A week? And not even immediately. He didn't want to leave Al, but at least he was still in the same dimension, and he wouldn't have begged off the job even if the Colonel had offered him the chance. It needed to be done. And as much as Edward hated to admit that he harbored any sentimentality for the bastard, it was moments like this that told him he was in denial. Sometimes, when Roy dropped his mask, there was a firm set to his jaw and to his eyes. Resolve, was what that was. It was a good look on him.
"So you're a jackass. I knew that." Edward shook his head. He didn't want to indulge that sentimentality, even if he did succumb to it sometimes. "And I'm not going to die, if that's what you've been thinking. Even if you don't come with me, I'll be fine."
The way Mustang looked at him sent a chill down his spine, just like that day after Liore when the Colonel had caught him running. "Yes, you will, Fullmetal. Anything else is unacceptable."
"Yeah, well." Edward took another small sip of yellow stuff. "That goes for you, too. Got it?"
That was when the Colonel started laughing again.
"What?"
"Nothing. That chair suits you, that's all."
"What's that supposed to mean? And why are you the expert on what suits me today?"
Roy didn't give any answer beyond that damn smirk.
"Weirdo."
They settled into an oddly comfortable silence while they waited for the bartender to finish with another customer nearby and walk out of earshot, but once he was gone Edward figured he'd pick up with the conspiracy talk. That was why Roy had brought him here, wasn't it? Not to make a big deal about how somebody didn't want somebody else to get hurt, especially when this was something they could both handle without breaking a sweat.
"So if the the bad guys heard our whole plan before, like you said, I'm guessing that's not the real plan."
"Very good, Fullmetal. They'll expect us to go north and set up a telegraph line, which we'll do. That's still important for Alphonse-kun's research if nothing else. But in addition to that..." Roy swirled the brown liquid and ice in his glass before he took another sip. "You and I are going to end the war."
Edward cracked a smile. Of course that was what they were doing. No half-assed biscuit runs for Roy Mustang.
"And here I thought it'd be something complicated."
~/ Omake: "Still At It" /~
Fifteen Years Hence...
"Sir?"
Hawkeye managed to redirect Roy's attention from the scene of Edward working at the filing cabinets. She understood that her commander was easily distracted at any time when Edward was standing nearby (or sometimes sitting, for that matter), but he did need to finish these questions for the radio interview tomorrow. With ordinary paperwork, she could allow him to use his normal method of trading off looking and writing, but Roy simply couldn't be trusted with profile questionnaires, and the answers that went on this sheet would be the subjects of tomorrows questions. If she would need to double-check his work anyway, she might as well not let him get his hands on it to start with.
"What have we got now?" he asked.
She glanced down at the paper. "Next question. What is your favorite place in the world to be?"
"My favorite place to be?" Roy let out a laugh and glanced back toward the filing cabinets. Edward, meanwhile, finished what he was doing and stalked away, with Roy's gaze tracking him back across the room. "Isn't that obvious?" he asked, failing to suppress an impish grin.
And this was why she never let him do this himself. Some people might have expected him to grow a sense of propriety by the age of fifty, but Hawkeye had never been under a delusion that a bit of grey hair at his temples would endow Roy Mustang with mature restraint.
Neither was Edward, of course. As soon as he heard the response, he whipped his head around - just quick enough to see Roy turn his attention to reorganizing the pen holder on his desk. "Oh, hell no," the other alchemist informed him. "If you tell her to put my name on that paper, I will throw you out that window, Roy."
"You don't expect me to lie, do-"
Before she could blink, Edward had reached Roy's chair and smacked their commander across the back of the head. The past several years hadn't reduced the frequency of their fights, and the net total of violence and shouting had remained constant. To a certain degree, the duration of any given fight had reduced, but only because regular practice had lent the two of them a great deal of efficiency.
"Ow." Roy rubbed the back of his head, still grinning at the blond.
"You're good at lying. Make something up! Or do you want the whole country to think you're a dirty old man?"
"I simply feel the public deserves the truth, Fullmetal."
"Speaking as someone who has to listen to you talk, trust me: they'd rather you didn't make an ass of yourself. Pick something else!"
While the blond tried to pull Roy's chair away from the desk and drag it towards the window (with Roy hanging on to the desk and apparently having the time of his life), Hawkeye wrote 'Concert Hall' under the offending question. Edward was going to win that argument. She'd make certain of it.
~/~
He found Edward in the same place where he always found the blond after a long day at work and before dinner. His 'personal guard', 'gentleman in residence', or whatever inappropriate term one decided to apply, liked to camp at one end of the living room couch with a book and a grim expression for a few hours around this time of day. Roy took his own book from the coffeetable. Obviously, if Edward didn't want to be bothered, he wouldn't sit in such an indefensible position. Those were basic tactics.
Like he did almost every day, he climbed onto the couch and laid down between Edwards legs, resting his book on his companion's chest.
"You again?"
He met his blond's scowl with a smile. "What else can you expect when you lay there so invitingly?" The spine of Fullmetal's book fell down on his forehead, and his companion turned a page with a sigh.
"Have it your way."
"I always do," Roy answered. The man might complain, but he never objected. Edwards legs pressed against his side, and sometimes a stray hand ran through his hair. If he was particularly lucky, his companion wouldn't object too strenuously when a chance to play with a long golden lock distracted Roy from his own reading. And if he were tired, he could close his eyes and lay his cheek on his lover's chest, as the swell when Edward breathed slowly in and out rocked him to sleep.
It was as close to heaven as he ever expected to get.
