Chapter Four
"Edward?"
"Captain Hawkeye?" Edward hadn't been expecting a call from the office that day. He'd seen Mustang two days ago and the bastard hadn't said anything about an upcoming mission; if anything, he'd indicated that he wasn't planning on sending Ed out of Central any time soon, so Ed had welcomed the chance to take a long break and work on his research. Of course, some sort of emergency mission could have come up – that was part of life in the military, after all.
"I need you to come into the office today. As soon as you can get here." Edward frowned a little at the tension he could hear in the captain's voice. She didn't quite sound like herself – if anything she sounded worried.
"Al and I are watching Elysia today for Miss Gracia, but I'll be there as soon as I can. Does Mustang have a new mission for me?"
"I'll explain when you get here. As quickly as you can, Edward."
"Sure." He put the phone back in its cradle. "Al? Hey, Al, where are you?"
"In Elysia's room!" He heard his brother call back. Ed headed down the hallway and found them playing with some dolls Edward had transmuted for her while Al was still in the hospital. They were babysitting her for the day while Gracia was working since Elysia's school had a pupil-free day, much to the five-year-old's delight.
"Who was on the phone, Brother?" Al asked once he spotted Ed standing in the doorway. Ed couldn't hide the grin at the pink, sparkly tiara tilted precariously on his brother's head.
"That's a good look for you, Al." Al stuck his tongue out at his brother while Elysia squealed in delight that someone else shared her opinion about Al's headgear. "It was Captain Hawkeye. She wants me to come to the office ASAP for some reason."
"To visit Uncle Roy?" Elysia asked excitedly.
"I don't know, Elysia. I think so. Maybe he has another mission for me," Ed said, giving the girl a smile when she groaned at the thought of him going away again.
"Can I come? I wanna see Uncle Roy and Miss Riza and Mr. Havoc and Mr. Fuery…" Elysia continued to name the team while Al sent Ed a look that clearly asked if he really believed it was another mission.
Ed shrugged. He honestly didn't know. The way Hawkeye had sounded on the phone – terse and unwilling to provide details – wasn't like her. Usually she was open about saying that Mustang had a mission for him, if only so that he couldn't wiggle out of coming to check in or bring in his most recent report. But today…her tone just made him think that either Mustang was in trouble with her, or in trouble with someone else. Either was equally likely, because it was Mustang they were talking about, but the second option made him think of his recent interview with Lieutenant Colonel Brookes and he couldn't help but wonder if the two were connected.
"Is something wrong, cub?"Black's voice purred in his head, the tone worried. Along with her voiced concern he could feel the joint concern of the other four Lions pressing in on his mind, although they seemed content to let Black be the one to speak for them.
"I'm not sure," he admitted. "I don't think so, but Captain Hawkeye didn't sound like herself. She could just be stressed out by something that Mustang is doing to annoy her, but I've never heard her sound so tense. I promise as soon as I know something more, I'll let you all know, okay?"
He felt their agreement and assent before they distanced themselves from him and the bond faded back into a more neutral state.
"Brother?" Al's voice broke him out of his thoughts. "Do you want me to stay here with Elysia?"
Ed sighed. If this was something serious, he didn't want Elysia there, but at the same time he knew Al should be. Now that Al had recovered and was allowed to travel, he'd been regularly going out on missions with Ed again and it was only fair that he be given all of the details about what they were up against.
"No, it's probably just another boring mission briefing," Ed sighed exasperatedly, making Elysia giggle at his dramatics. "Might as well make it interesting by siccing Elysia on him." He grinned as her giggle turned into full blown laughter at the thought. Al looked at him, asking if he was sure, and Ed nodded. "Better not keep them all waiting for our illustrious presence. Al, you might want to lose the tiara or else everybody will want one," Ed added as his younger brother stood.
The younger boy flushed before placing the tiara on Elysia's bed before helping her get her shoes on while Ed went to get his coat.
Elysia was very happy to walk in between the two of them, swinging their hands as she led them towards Central Command, though Ed and Al did have to correct her a couple of times before they arrived. She took the gentle scolding in good humor, however, since she adored her 'big brothers' and knew that they wouldn't say anything just to be mean to her. Elysia's presence caused some slight confusion and concern when they arrived at the main gates, but they were let through without any trouble once both brothers assured the guards that she would be accompanied at all times. The walk to Mustang's office was just as much fun for the little girl as the walk to Central Command. She didn't often get to visit her Uncle Roy or his team at work, usually only seeing them when Gracia had them over for dinner. She made sure to say hello to everyone they passed and almost always got a hello back, though it was more often than not a startled one.
Edward pushed the doors open and stopped dead three steps into the room. "Whatever happened, it wasn't me," he said the moment he saw the serious and concerned looks on everyone's faces. His assertion of innocence had Havoc, Fuery, and Breda cracking a smile while Hawkeye and Falman looked a tiny bit more relaxed.
"Heya, Chief," Havoc greeted.
"What's up, big man?" Breda rumbled. Fuery and Falman both waved at them and smiled at the sight of Elysia.
"Edward, Alphonse, thank you for coming. I didn't realise you would be bringing Elysia," Hawkeye said, smiling broadly at the little girl.
"Mama's at work and I didn't have school today. Big brother Ed said Uncle Roy was just gonna give him a new mission, so big brother Al and I came too!" Elysia said excitedly. "Is Uncle Roy in his office? Can I go see him?" she asked, looking at the door that led to Mustang's private study.
"No, Elysia. He's in a meeting with some other important generals at the moment," Hawkeye said kindly. Edward frowned as he noted the tension in her voice despite the kind words and smile on her face. She hadn't said anything about Mustang being in a meeting when she'd called. "Do you think you can stay out here with the team while I talk to your big brothers for a few minutes?"
Elysia sighed in disappointment. "Okay," she said with a small pout that she wouldn't get to see her 'uncle' today. Edward nudged her shoulder and she looked up.
"We'll head to the shops after this and get something you can help me cook for dinner so your mom doesn't have to, okay?" Ed told her with a small smile on his face, and she brightened immediately. "Why don't you think of something we can cook together while Al and I talk with Miss Riza, okay?"
She nodded enthusiastically and made a beeline to sit next to Havoc, who quickly put out his cigarette when Ed glared at him. With a significant look at the rest of the team to get back to work, Hawkeye and the Elrics moved into Mustang's inner office, which for once was empty.
"Thank you for coming in so quickly. I'll keep this as brief as possible so you can get back to Gracia's," Hawkeye said, gesturing towards the couch. All three of them sat down. "Edward, I'm afraid I have some bad news, and I suspect it won't have reached you yet."
"About Mustang?" Edward asked, frowning.
"Not entirely," Hawkeye said. "Edward, Major General Andrews was found dead this morning." Ed looked stunned before he covered his mouth and tried to draw in a deep breath. Al reached over and quickly rubbed his brother's back just below his shoulder blades.
"How?" Edward managed after a moment.
"He seems to have been a victim of the serial killer. The same one who killed Bryce, Pardi, Summers, and Henley," Hawkeye said grimly. "I'm sorry, and I know that it's hard to hear. He was found this morning in the alley behind his favourite bar."
"Goddamnit," Ed swore, pounding his left hand against the arm of the couch. "One of the only other generals I could really stand and wouldn't have minded serving under…" He could feel the Lions holding back from demanding answers, but they were clearly agitated from feeling the rage and grief that had filled him at Hawkeye's news about General Andrews' death. He appreciated the fact that they were kind enough not to overwhelm him with their worry, but he could feel the restraint they had to exert to keep from overwhelming the bond and that was a little distracting.
"Are you okay, Brother?" Al asked with a worried yet sympathetic look on his face.
Edward drew in another breath. "Yeah, I'm okay, Al. Pissed as hell, but I'm okay." He looked up at Hawkeye with burning golden eyes that demanded answers. "So where's Mustang really?"
"He's being formally interviewed in connection with all five murders," Hawkeye said, and both boys' eyes widened in shock.
"Wait, you mean –" Ed managed after a moment.
"They don't actually think Brigadier General Mustang killed them, do they?" Al asked, and Edward looked angrier.
"Lieutenant Colonel Brookes certainly doesn't, but he's the only one involved in the case that appears to," Hawkeye told them grimly. "The generals he reports to – especially Combes and Widdon – seem particularly certain that Brigadier General Mustang is the person behind these crimes based on the way the victims died. They've completely disregarded the fact that not all of the lab tests have come back with results yet and the fact that there is no evidence directly tying the general to these crimes."
Ed scoffed. "That sounds about right," he said as he stood and started pacing back and forth between the couch and Mustang's desk. "No, guys, you really can't help me right now. I swear, I will tell you everything later. No, I'm alright, just got some upsetting news. Yeah, something might be happening here, but I promise I'm alright."
Al and Hawkeye watched as Ed apparently had a random conversation with himself. They would both readily admit that it was strange watching him like this, even though they knew full well who he was talking to. While he didn't often speak out loud to the Lions, they'd both seen him do it often enough to not be completely fazed by the strangeness of the action.
"Mustang," Ed replied in answer to a question from one of the Lions. "Yes, I will tell you everything once I know what's going on, okay?" Ed rolled his eyes in exasperation. "I swear, Black. Yes, within the hour, I promise." He shook his head for a moment before returning his attention to his brother and Hawkeye as if he hadn't just been talking across a dimensional barrier with five magical Lions. "Okay, so what do you need from us? They haven't arrested Mustang, have they?"
Hawkeye shook her head, both in response to his question and in fond exasperation. The adventures that Edward got himself into… "Not yet. They wouldn't dare without more substantial proof. They would need either irrefutable evidence or an arrest warrant from Führer Grumman and he won't give them one based on the case they have right now. We just needed you two to be aware of what was going on. The fact that all of the victims have a connection to Brigadier General Mustang has us concerned. That can't be a coincidence. General Mustang believes he is being framed by someone who wants to see him out of the picture."
Edward nodded and paused in his pacing to think, his head dropping so that his chin was on his chest and his bangs were hiding his eyes. Al and Hawkeye gave him a moment to think, waiting while he no doubt went through all the scenarios of how the situation could play out. When he finally looked up at them again, his face was set with an expression of stubbornness that both of them recognised. "What are we looking at, Captain?"
"It won't take much more to push this situation over the edge," Hawkeye said. "I have a feeling that if there is even one more death, the Führer won't have any other choice but to issue a warrant for the general's arrest." Her brown eyes were hard and determined. "Edward. Alphonse. If the situation goes that far – if the general is court-martialed for this and he's found guilty, the rest of the generals will no doubt push for a death sentence by firing squad. Given how brutal and gruesome these crimes have been, they will no doubt get it. He has no alibi for any of the nights of the murders, and the fact that the victims have all been burned to death is only working against him."
Both brothers stiffened at the mention of a firing squad. The thought of it going that far…
"We may need your help to try and uncover the real criminal if they do end up arresting General Mustang. Until he is no longer considered a suspect, you won't be going on missions, Edward. We can't afford to have you out of Central right now, and the call for his arrest could come at any time." Edward nodded in understanding and Hawkeye looked at Alphonse. "We would appreciate your help if it comes to it, Alphonse, but you're not military, so if you're not comfortable with the idea –"
"Captain, I'll help in any way I can if I'm needed," Al interrupted her and gave her a reassuring smile.
Hawkeye sighed. "Thank you boys. Also, please don't say anything about this to anyone except Gracia." Both of them nodded immediately. She stood and Al followed suit. "Now, I believe you promised a certain little girl that she could go shopping to help you with dinner and a pack of Lions that you would give them some answers. Best not keep any of them waiting," Hawkeye said with a smile that the brothers returned, even though Ed rolled his eyes at the mention of the Lions. She led the way out of the office.
"Big brothers!" Elysia greeted them like she hadn't seen them in days, rather than for a handful of minutes.
"Hey, El. Did you behave?" Ed asked.
The little girl nodded, throwing her arms around his automail arm as he reached out for her, before she paused and looked at them. "Are you going to be leaving again, big brothers?"
Edward forced a smile on his face despite his anger over the whole situation. "Nope, not right now, Elysia. That's what Miss Riza wanted to tell me. Your Uncle Roy is keeping me in Central for a while yet, because he might have an important job for me soon."
"Yay!" she cheered. "I don't like it when you leave."
"Well, you're stuck with me for a while. Did you figure out what we're cooking?" he asked as he lifted her off the chair she was perched on.
"Yup!" she told him excitedly. "Mr. Fuery helped me pick!"
"He did? Well you can tell us on the way to the shops, okay? Say goodbye to everyone." Ed told her and she immediately went around and hugged everyone before returning to the brothers' sides. "Sorry we can't stick around. See you later," Ed said, waving goodbye as Al did the same and they received a chorus in return while Elysia tugged determinedly on his arm. He listened absently to what she had to say about her visit to the rest of the team, allowing Al to carry the bulk of the conversation as he updated Black and the rest of her sisters.
Mustang concealed his amusement behind his well-practiced mask as Combes and Widdon put forth their best intimidating acts. So far they had spent half their time standing behind Brookes in a manner which Mustang thought he was supposed to believe was threatening. It probably would've worked better if they didn't spend half of the time trying to get Brookes to hurry up with his questions or flat out talking over the top of the other man.
"So you're saying you don't have an alibi for any of the nights in question?" General Combes demanded, slamming a hand down on the table. Mustang didn't even blink – he was far too used to Edward kicking his office door open at random times.
"I have an alibi for each night in question. I just don't believe there's anyone who could corroborate my alibis since I was home, alone, each night. I'm sure you're aware that I am not married, General Combes, and I have no children and no roommate, so I live by myself. I didn't have anyone make a random visit in the middle of the night for some reason, and I didn't spend my night in a bar, as I sometimes like to do after a stressful day," Mustang told them calmly. "My recent promotion has added a great many additional responsibilities onto my workload, some of which I am still learning the full scope of, and I'm often at the office late into the evening. On those nights, I tend to go straight home and seek out my bed. On the nights when I don't stay at the office late, I've been invested in my own personal alchemic research."
"Why wouldn't you have an alibi?" Widdon asked.
For a moment, Mustang paused, no ready answer coming to mind as he processed the question. Wanting clarification on what exactly his fellow general was asking, he asked a question of his own. "I'm afraid I don't follow, General Widdon. What exactly do you mean?" He kept his tone level and calm, as he had throughout the whole interview, knowing that it had to be infuriating the other two, although given the expressions he'd seen cross Brookes' face at different points, the younger officer was having trouble keeping his amusement contained and was managing to do so only with extreme effort.
"You've known you were a connection between the victims since Colonel Summers' death. Why wouldn't you ensure you had some sort of alibi for when we inevitably questioned you? Surely someone of your rank would've had no problems getting one," Widdon observed.
Mustang tipped his head to the side curiously. "Are you trying to subtly ask me why I haven't paid someone off to be my alibi or why I haven't fabricated one?" Brookes kept a neutral face, but Mustang could tell by his eyes that he was curious as well.
"Of course not, Mustang. I'm merely asking why you didn't have a member of your team stay with you each night, or why you didn't stay at a friend's home so you would have an alibi for at least one of the nights in question," Widdon told him.
"It's very simple, really," Mustang replied. "You see, I didn't think I'd need to go out of my way to create an alibi – and make myself look guiltier in the process – because I don't need one. I know I am not the perpetrator of these murders, and I trust that Lieutenant Colonel Brookes will do his job properly, despite any obstacles that try to divert him. I have confidence that he will find the real killer. Why should I stop living my life or vary my regular routine when I've done nothing wrong?"
The not-so-subtle remark aimed at them had the two generals snarling in response. Mustang dismissed them and looked back at Brookes. "Do you have any further questions, Lieutenant Colonel Brookes?" They'd already been at this for almost four hours. The generals had picked over every detail of his relationships with the five victims, and had tried more than once to get him to trap himself by asking the same questions in different ways, to see if he would give a different answer. The fact that he'd remained calm, polite, and cooperative throughout the entire process, even when they tried to rile him up had only served to infuriate them even more.
"Not at this time. Thank you for coming in with us, Brigadier General Mustang," Brookes said, standing as Mustang did and shaking his offered hand.
"Let me know if I can be of any further assistance to your investigation, Lieutenant Colonel. Gentlemen, have a good day." Mustang dipped his head to the two pissed-off looking men as Brookes held the door open for him and murmured a quiet apology that Mustang responded to with a small, triumphant smile, before heading for his office to get back to his paperwork.
Upon his arrival, he found his entire team waiting for him, instead of just Hawkeye, with the exception of Ed and Al. The Elrics had apparently come by and been briefed, but as they were caring for Elysia that day they hadn't been able to stay, although both brothers had made it clear that they were willing to do anything they could to help.
"What are you going to do, sir?" Hawkeye asked as he returned to his work.
"The only thing I can do. Wait to see what happens. I know I didn't do this, and eventually the truth will come out," he told her as he signed his name to a report. "If I change my habits or do anything to alter the way I am living my life, it will only look like I'm trying to hide something."
She nodded. "The Führer said that he would reschedule your meeting with him for tomorrow right after lunch, sir. The rest of your appointments have been rescheduled for the day after tomorrow."
"Thank you, Captain," he said. "You're dismissed."
Later that night…
Lieutenant General Olivier Mira Armstrong left the up-scale restaurant where she had been dining with her family and turned in the direction of Central Command. It would have been easy enough to hire a vehicle to take her there, but in all honesty she wanted to walk. Führer Grumman's secretary had contacted her at her family's mansion this morning to request a meeting tonight, if she was amicable. They had settled on an eight o'clock meeting in his office as no other time suited both of them and he had assured her that it would be quick. She wasn't in Central for much longer, planning on returning to Briggs the day after tomorrow unless she was ordered to stay.
She had taken a rare trip away from the fortress that was back under her command now that the Promised Day was past and things had returned to normal in order to travel down to Ishval and check on the work that Major Miles was doing. When Mustang had pledged to help the Ishvalan people restore their homeland, he had asked if she would be willing to loan Major Miles to the team he was overseeing for a year, perhaps two, desiring someone on his team who was both Ishvalan and Amestrian and could see and balance both sides of any potential conflicts while the military assisted in rebuilding what they had once destroyed. When Miles had indicated his willingness to assist, she had allowed him to be reassigned, with the promise that once the restoration work had been completed he would be reassigned back to the North.
As the trains didn't run directly between Ishval and North City yet, she had been obligated to stop off in Central and – somehow – Alex had found out that she was coming into the city and had been there to meet her train and prevailed upon her to return home with him and spend a few days with their parents and younger sister now that the three had returned from their trip to Xing. Out of a sense of familial obligation she had agreed, but at the moment she was wishing that she had refused – she would have been able to avoid having to sit through the sort of tedious dinners like the one she had just left.
She scowled impressively as she stalked towards Central Command. She was actually grateful for the meeting, since it had allowed her to escape the dinner long before the desert course was served, and after spending three hours listening to Alex crying about Mustang being framed for some rather vicious murders that had been happening over the last month and a half, she had just needed to get away. She noticed that the few people on the streets that she passed were watching her with wary expressions and – although she normally wouldn't have been bothered by what other people thought of her – she schooled her expression so that she merely looked displeased instead of murderous.
A noise from the alleyway ahead caught her attention. It had sounded like someone was scuffling their feet on the cobblestones and she had been prepared to walk right past it. A small smile curved her lips. She would almost welcome some idiot attempting to mug her tonight. After spending hours among "polite" society, she needed to release some of her pent-up frustration, and the opportunity to teach some worm a lesson about mugging people would be satisfying.
Despite her thoughts, she kept her muscles loose and her gaze focused on the looming hulk of Central Command. As she reached the halfway point of the opening to the alley, however, there was a faint whisper. She froze and listened closer, eyes narrowed in concentration as she strained to extend her hearing as far as it could go.
There it was again. It was faint and it was a cry for help.
Armstrong snarled as she considered her options. It could be a trick since she was a high-ranking military official and she didn't have any bodyguards with her. With Miles in Ishval and Buccaneer dead, she didn't have anyone she trusted that much to watch her back. Besides, she wasn't some dainty damsel. She could damn well save herself if someone tried to attack her. As a general rule of thumb, the military had always been looked on with suspicion from the ordinary population, but that had been especially true since the fiasco of the Promised Day and the information that had come out during the court-martials of Generals Edison and Klemin.
To be fair, however, the efforts of those that had fought against the homunculi and their Father and the rebuilding that had happened over the past half a year had gone a long way towards smoothing over some of the strife and discord that had threatened to rear its ugly head. She and Mustang had both been praised as heroes, as had many of her loyal Briggs men; and Führer Grumman had made it clear that they had been fighting against a subversive and powerful force that had embedded itself in the highest levels of their military and that he was committed to purging that force and restoring order.
The cry for help came again and she turned down the alley. She couldn't leave without at least checking. If it really was someone who needed help and she left them to suffer, she would feel a touch guilty. It was possible the scuffling she had heard was just someone injured or drunk stumbling into the alley. Besides, if this was a trap, she could beat some insignificant twerp's ass and still be at Grumman's office in time for their meeting.
The smells within the alley were overpoweringly disgusting - a blend of stale alcohol, sour vomit, urine, and garbage. Her nose wrinkled involuntarily at the stench as she moved cautiously down the alley, listening for the voice to try to pinpoint where the victim was. She made it halfway down the alley, the sound of the voice growing louder. She eased past a narrow point of the alley where a pair of dumpsters flanked either side of a low, protruding part of the building's wall. She stopped suddenly as she realised that she'd been paying too much attention to the location of the voice and not enough to what it was saying. It was repeating the same two phrases.
"Help me." There was a pause of a few seconds, and then "Please someone, help me." The sound came from somewhere deeper in the alleyway. It sounded like a child or a young woman and although it wasn't uncommon for victims to repeat the same phrase or phrases over and over as they lay hurt somewhere, this didn't feel right. The tip-off was that the phrases kept repeating with the exact same amount of time between them, and the tone always stayed the same. There were no hitches in the words as the person speaking them sobbed, and no cracking in the voice with the thought that no one could hear the person calling out.
There was a noise behind Olivier and she snarled as she ducked, the weapon aimed for her head just missing. She felt the breeze as it passed over and noted that it was a stout piece of steel – a pipe perhaps. She went to draw her sword, but her hand only met empty air and she suddenly remembered that she had promised her mother she wouldn't wear it to dinner since they would be out in public. Growling at her own idiocy, Olivier spun on the heels of her boots and swung a fist at the figure, but they'd already moved and a moment later she felt the pipe smash into her head with a sickening crack that even she could hear and she dropped to the ground in a graceless heap.
Her vision blurred instantly and she was having trouble getting her eyes to focus enough to see what was in front of her. The bright streetlights at the end of the alley were orange blobs and the dumpster to her left was nothing more than a dark patch in her vision. Her peripheral vision was gone and more blackness was creeping across the edges of her visual range. She saw a black blob enter her vision and based on the location of the blob, she realised that she was looking at a pair of standard-issue military boots. Through sheer force of will, she managed to raise her aching head a few inches. She took in the dark blue military uniform as she felt her hair dampen with her own blood. Her head was throbbing horrifically and she struggled not to groan. She was not going to give her attacker the satisfaction of hearing her pain.
She snarled at herself. She was not some helpless damsel and she would not take this attack lying down like some victim. She was an Armstrong, damn it! With a supreme effort, she pushed herself upright, feeling the bite of the rough cobblestones beneath her hands as she shoved against the ground. Her foot slipped on something slick before she managed to get to her knees. Her vision swam as her center of gravity shifted, and it was for that reason that she wasn't able to block or dodge the next swing of the pipe before it smashed into her ribs with excruciating force. Her breath was forced out as she felt at least one rib break. She went back down, her face smashing into the filthy ground beneath her.
As she managed to draw in a small breath that caused her chest to erupt with pain almost equal to that in her head, she couldn't stop the tiny groan of pain from escaping her lips. She raised her head again although her vision went black for a moment as sparks of light appeared in the center of her gaze, but she blinked rapidly to clear it and glared back up at her attacker.
The next thing she took in was the jacket, open slightly more than regulation allowed to show a white dress shirt. She could hear something that sounded like scratching and forced her vision further up and took in the white gloves. She couldn't get her eyes to focus enough to make out any clear details, but she saw the hand shake before the scratching noise sounded again and she saw sparks fly and her eyes widened.
There was no way it could have been him standing over her! She would not be dying by his hand, and especially not in some filthy alley. She made another attempt to get to her feet then. If it truly was him, she wouldn't take this lying down! She was going to force him to look her in the eyes as he killed her. Her attacker evidently didn't expect her to try and regain her feet a second time since he stumbled back half a step when she got to her hands and knees.
There something about the startled movement made her think twice about who was trying to take her down, but her mind was too fogged to pursue the doubt further. Forcing her muscles to obey her, she managed to push herself fully up onto her knees a second time, but before she could do anything further she felt the pipe smash into her back, just below her shoulder blades and she went down again but managed to catch herself on her hands.
Her attacker's foot came out of nowhere, hooking against her wrists and causing them to buckle and she slammed into the ground a third time, her back and wrists throbbing, and her chin clipping the cobblestones hard enough that she felt the coppery tang of blood fill her mouth where she'd presumably bitten her tongue. There was that scratching sound again and she knew she wasn't going to be able to get back up. She swore at her body's lack of cooperation with her commands and decided she'd do the second-best thing she could if she couldn't fight: she'd survive and she'd identify the serial killer.
She turned her head and made herself look at her attacker's face. Her vision wasn't working in her favour and she could feel a warm wetness run down from her temple to pool in the corner of her eyes. She blinked and literally saw red and knew that it was her own blood blocking her already poor vision. Blinking again, she kept her eyes trained on where her attacker's face should be, hoping for him to step into some sort of light so she could get a good look at him. There was something off with him though. Her mind was screaming as it struggled to figure out which part of it was right. There was a sound from the building behind Armstrong and her foe jerked back in fright. There was another noise – Armstrong thought it was a door – and her attacker fled down the back of the alley.
Two seconds later, the door behind Armstrong opened and someone stepped out grumbling under their breath before she heard a short, piercing shriek that made her already aching head hurt even worse and seemed to penetrate right down to the center of her brain. There was a curse before someone with long, dark curly hair was leaning down in front of her line of sight. She wanted to tell them to get away from her, her habit of never accepting help still strong despite her wounds.
Something slipped into her hand – cold, and an odd combination of hard and soft at the same time. Skin…fingers. The woman had put her hand inside Armstrong's, likely to assure her that help was coming. She could see the woman's lips moving and with a frightening start, Armstrong realised that she couldn't hear the woman's voice.
She refused to allow herself to panic though. This would be temporary. It was the shock from the blow to her head settling in, that was all. She kept her eyes on the woman's lips, trying to make out what she was saying, but blackness was creeping in from the sides of her field of vision. There were more moving shadows behind the woman who had found her, but she knew she wouldn't be awake for much longer.
She managed to close her fingers around the woman's hand, drawing her attention away from the other man-shaped shadows that were beginning to gather in the alley. "M…military uni…" she started, trying to describe her attacker before she lost consciousness, but her words were slurred by pain and fatigue. She rallied and tried again as the woman leaned closer. "Whi…glov…sparks…mil…uni…"
Blackness overtook her vision and she allowed herself to slip into nothingness.
Major Alex Louis Armstrong had just finished a lovely dinner with his wonderful family and was holding the door of the restaurant open for his youngest sister Catherine and their parents to walk through. He mourned the early departure of his oldest sister Olivier, but he knew that she was in an important meeting with Führer Grumman right now. They would have the opportunity to have another family dinner tomorrow night before she headed back to Fort Briggs to resume her duties of protecting their northern border from the ever-determined forces of Drachma.
Their car and driver were waiting outside the restaurant and Alex moved to open the door for his mother and sister when he heard someone calling his name and the sound of someone running. He paused and looked up the street towards Central Command and spotted a soldier rushing right towards them, his eyes fixed on Alex. He stopped, saluted, and then relaxed when Armstrong gave him a nod.
"I'm sorry to interrupt your evening, major," the younger soldier managed after pausing to take a breath and compose himself. "It's your older sister, Lieutenant General Armstrong, sir." Alex heard his mother and sister gasp as his father sucked in a sharp breath of his own.
"What happened? Where is she?" Armstrong demanded.
"She's at Central Hospital, sir. She was found lying beaten in an alley about a quarter of a mile from here. We believe her attacker was the same person who attacked the other five victims," the sergeant told him.
Armstrong dismissed him and bundled his family into the waiting car, directing the driver to take them straight to Central Hospital. As they drove, the driver pushing the car to the fastest safe limit he was willing to dare, Armstrong thought again about what he had been telling his family at dinner. The murders of the military officers had caused a stir around all of Central, but mostly around the military itself. Olivier had heard about the rash of killings going on, but not any particular details and she'd scoffed when Alex had described how hard Lieutenant Colonel Brookes and his team were working to uncover the perpetrator.
"The men of Briggs would never permit a serial killer to be running around our territory," Olivier declared firmly. "The fact that no one has caught this man is only more proof of how ineffective and poorly trained the troops assigned to Central have become, as if the Promised Day hadn't already demonstrated that."
"Ah, sister. I do not believe that it is that simple. This foe is devious indeed. By all accounts he has even managed to lay suspicion upon Brigadier General Mustang by choosing fire as his weapon of choice. The bare fact that he has so successfully divided us, to the point that anyone would even entertain the notion that Brigadier General Mustang would do this is intolerable, and yet it is clear evidence of his cunning." Alex responded with a shake of his head. "Why, this very day the Führer authorised Brigadier Generals Combes and Widdon to drag General Mustang into an interview room as if he was a common criminal!"
Olivier snorted in derision. "Mustang may be a gifted alchemist, I'll grant him that much, but he's not clever enough to be the one behind these crimes. If he is the one committing them, he's being phenomenally stupid by making the cause of death something that so clearly links him to the bodies. He's not ruthless enough to be able to eliminate his rivals in this fashion. To put it simply, he's soft."
Alex had been in the hallway when he had seen Mustang escorted past the Investigations area of the base and towards the interview rooms by Brookes, Combes, and Widdon. The generals had looked gleefully smug, Brookes had looked resigned and irritated by the whole proceeding, while Mustang had been calm, confident, and patient. He could understand why, for formalities sake, they'd had to question Mustang, but the expression on the faces of Combes and Widdon had rankled him. Of course, from everything he had heard before he had left for the day, they had been much less gleeful and far more irritated when Mustang had walked out of the interview room almost four hours later.
Armstrong was dragged from his thoughts by the car coming to a stop in front of the hospital and he followed his parents and Catherine out of the car while their driver went to park and the four of them hurried into the hospital. His father was immediately demanding to know where his daughter was, and one of the nurses was quick to identify who he was and who they were looking for. Locating Olivier's room, she paged the doctor and led them down a hallway.
Olivier's doctor was a middle-aged man with blond hair, but the encroaching grey at his temples showed that the gold was well on its way to turning silver. He looked harried and Armstrong felt a small pang of sympathy for the man when his eyes found them and he seemed to sink a little before remembering himself and straightening once more.
"General Armstrong?" the doctor greeted his father, who nodded impatiently. "I'm Doctor Randy Evans. Your daughter Olivier was admitted nearly an hour and a half ago. I believe that the military had some trouble locating you. We've been able to treat her wounds and get her settled in a room, but she will need to remain here for some time while she heals." He turned and grabbed a chart from the pile he had been sorting through and flipped a couple of pages.
"What happened to her?" Philip Armstrong demanded. "The soldier who found us only said that she had been attacked by the murderer that's claimed five lives so far."
"She was attacked with some sort of blunt object, like a pipe or a piece of wood and sustained some serious injuries including a head wound and a broken rib. The injury that is causing us the most concern is the head wound. What she suffered is called an open fracture of her skull. Fortunately, it's relatively easy to treat and should heal well on its own within the next six weeks. For tonight, to give her body a chance to rest and to help prevent any swelling or bleeding of the brain, we've put her into a medically-induced coma, and we'll be monitoring her closely. Based on our examination, we're optimistic that won't occur, but as head wounds can occasionally be unpredictable, we decided to err on the side of caution. Whoever hit her either wasn't aiming to do serious damage in the first place, or had a weak swing, if you'll excuse my plain words."
The direct way of explaining the situation was what allowed Alex to finally recognise this doctor as one of the few at the hospital that young Edward Elric hadn't been able to con into letting him leave the hospital without proper treatment. When Alphonse had been in the hospital after the Promised Day, Evans had been one of his primary doctors by Edward's insistence and personal request.
"She has some other bruising, mainly to her side and back, and her left wrist has a hairline fracture and some deep bruising, so we believe, based on the position of the injuries that her attacker struck her while she was down on the ground or was trying to keep her down. Either way, her wrist and ribs have been wrapped and will heal by themselves. As I stated, her head wound is our primary concern at the moment."
"Doctor Evans, how long will she be required to stay in the hospital?" Armstrong asked before his father could bluster at the poor man. He wanted to growl at the fact that someone would attack another person while they were already down. What kind of coward did that?
"Once she wakes up, she'll be required to stay in the hospital until her stitches are taken out and to allow us to continue to monitor the wound for any complications. Depending on how quickly the wound site heals, it could be a week or two. Generally, we prefer to wait at least a day when it comes to medically induced comas before we start easing the patient out of it. With a fractured skull, I'd like your permission to wait at least thirty-six hours," Evans said.
"Why is that?" Mrs. Armstrong asked in a voice not nearly as strong as it normally was. Alex knew why – Olivier was the first born, and their mother had raised her to be of strong character and values. There was a bond between the two women – hidden most of the time due to the nature of Olivier's work and the status their family was regarded with by the rest of the military.
"It's not the injury to the skull that has me the most concerned, but any possible damage to the brain itself. The skull is just a bone like any other, and will heal itself, given enough time. What we will be looking for is swelling or bleeding in the brain itself, and keeping her in an induced coma will keep some of the strain off of her body and that will aid her recovery. We don't want to keep her under for too long, but thirty-six hours will give her body a chance to recover from the shock of the injury and restore its own equilibrium. As long as she doesn't show any signs of developing swelling or bleeding at the site of the injury, we'll start easing her out of the coma. Those thirty-six hours will prove pivotal in what her recovery time will look like. So long as nothing unexpected happens, she'll be home sooner."
Alex watched his parents talk quietly while he pulled Catherine to the side and wrapped one of his muscled arms around her shoulders gently. What the doctor spoke of – Olivier was practically a force of nature. The idea of her being in a medically-induced sleep when only ten months ago she'd been battling the homunculus Sloth and the immortal legion at his side with a broken arm, fractured ribs, and a concussion was troubling to him.
"We'll follow your recommendations, Doctor Evans." Alex sighed in relief when his father's voice was back to its usual, calm tenor. Evans seemed to relax as well before leading them down the hall to Olivier's room. They had just reached the doorway when they paused and Alex had to suppress a frown with effort. Coming towards them from the opposite end of the hallway were Brigadier General Combes, Brigadier General Widdon, and Lieutenant Colonel Brookes. Of the three men, Brookes looked the most like he really didn't want to be there.
"General Armstrong, Major Armstrong. Mrs. Armstrong." General Combes saluted the retired General and his wife and nodded towards Alex. "We would like to speak to Lieutenant General Armstrong and get her statement about the attack this evening." The way he had worded it wasn't as a request.
"Doctor Evans has just informed us that Olivier is in a medically-induced coma and will be staying that way for thirty-six hours at the minimum," the patriarch of the family told them. "After that, it is up to Doctor Evans and Olivier herself as to when she will be receiving visitors. You may speak to her when both of them feel that she is up to it."
Both of the generals' eyes flashed angrily, Combes more so than Widdon, and Alex gently pushed Catherine behind him and took a step forward to stand between his father and mother.
"That is unacceptable. She is the only surviving victim of a dangerous serial killer! We need her to be woken up so she can give us a more detailed statement than the military uniform and gloves he was wearing, plus sparks appearing from his hands," General Combes said angrily. "A medically induced coma can be reversed at any time. We need you to do so immediately. She can be placed under once more after we've finished questioning her. We need her to name her attacker!" It was evident to everyone present who Combes wanted her to name.
"Let me get this straight, general," Doctor Evans was the first to speak up as he took a step closer to where Combes and Widdon stood. His voice was just on the edge of being calm but was threatening to boil over with every word he spoke. "You want me to put my patient – the Armstrongs' daughter – in medical danger so you can put additional and completely unnecessary stress on her body and mind by pulling her out of the coma we were forced to put her in so that her life wouldn't be at risk…all so that you can try and get her to name Brigadier General Mustang as her attacker?"
The two generals spluttered and Brookes looked torn between terrified and amused.
"Let me remind you," Evans continued, his voice deadly calm, "that she suffered a strong enough blow to her temple and head to cause an open fracture of her skull. Her vision was likely blurry at best and unreliable at worse. There is also the distinct possibility that the injury may have caused short-term memory loss – she may never remember the actual attack, since the mind has been known to bury traumatic memories in an effort to protect itself. We won't know if that is true until we bring her out of the coma and run some neurological tests. The chances of her having clearly seen her attacker are about as good as your chances of getting me to reverse her coma. In case that isn't clear enough, I'll put it in simpler terms. It's not happening." Alex could see why Edward had been unable to talk his way out of leaving the hospital without Doctor Evans' permission if this confrontation was anything to go by.
"You are not a doctor, are you, Brigadier General?" Mrs. Armstrong asked; her voice was deceptively calm. The irate general shook his head and moved to speak, but she didn't give him an opportunity. "Then you will not be making medical decisions for my daughter – who also outranks you – and ordering around someone who is not under your command and isn't required to listen to you. My daughter will be out of the coma when Doctor Evans decides it's best for her to come out. You will be allowed to talk to her about what she did or didn't see or what she remembers when she is ready to have visits from people who are more concerned with making themselves look good as opposed to those who are concerned about a victim's health…and not a moment sooner." The fury blazing in his mother's eyes had Alex taking a slight step back and he wasn't the one her gaze was aimed at.
Widdon intervened before Combes could say anything further. "We're very sorry for any distress we've caused you, ma'am, sirs. It was not our intention. I'm sure you can sympathise with the pressure we are under to arrest the person responsible for these deaths and your daughter's attack. We will leave for now and wait for Doctor Evans to contact us when Lieutenant General Armstrong has recovered enough to give us a statement." Alex had to give him enough grudging respect to approve of the fact that Widdon's voice held a note of fear, while Combes seethed at his side. Brookes looked ready to go back to his office and down a bottle or two of whiskey, if the stress lines on his face were anything to go by. "We wish your daughter a speedy recovery. Thank you for your time." Widdon saluted before nudging Combes, who also offered a salute before the two of them retreated down the hallway.
"Lieutenant Colonel Brookes?" Alex called to the other man who was about to follow his commanders down the hallway. "May I have a moment of your time, sir?"
"Yes, Major Armstrong?" Brookes seemed hesitant as he faced Alex, who towered over him, despite the fact that Brookes was higher-ranked than Alex. Alex nodded to his parents and sister to go in and sit with Olivier.
"I'll be in momentarily," he promised. They nodded and followed Evans into Olivier's room. Once the door was closed behind them, he faced Brookes again. "I am aware that you are not under any obligation to speak to me, sir, but I would very much appreciate your honest opinion to my question." Brookes nodded, indicating that he could continue. "Do you believe that Brigadier General Mustang is the perpetrator of the crimes and the one who attacked Olivier?" Alex didn't want to doubt one of the few officers he considered a friend and a man worthy of respect, but Combes had mentioned white gloves and sparks coming from those gloves…
Brookes sighed. "Honestly, Major? I don't. Brigadier General Mustang doesn't seem to be the kind of man who would deal with problematic enemies or rivals in this manner. He has been cooperative and open with me each time I've spoken with him, and of those I've interviewed who know him as a person, they all share my feelings. I believe something else is going on, but I am unfortunately left with only a small amount of wiggle room, and with the statement given by the witness who discovered your sister about sparks coming from white gloves, I'm afraid my argument about there being no physical evidence tying him to the crimes isn't going to suffice any longer. Unless your sister can definitively say that the brigadier general was not her attacker, I do not believe I will have any choice but to arrest him for the crimes and charge him with five counts of murder and one count of attempted murder, unless I am given orders directly from the Führer instructing me not to. General Combes and General Widdon are not the only ones among the high command who share the same opinion about General Mustang."
Alex nodded. "That is what I thought. Thank you for your transparency, sir." He offered the tired man a salute, only for it to be dismissed almost immediately.
"I wish your sister luck in her recovery," Brookes said, turning and leaving the hallway. He heard Armstrong enter his sister's hospital room and sighed as he went to catch up with the generals. He had a feeling he knew what their next stop was and he had already decided that he would have no part in that meeting. He really needed a strong drink and there was a very good bottle of Scotch in his office waiting for him.
Grumman had been waiting for Lieutenant General Armstrong to arrive and had been growing steadily more worried the further past the agreed upon hour it grew. He knew Armstrong well enough to know that she was completely respectful and punctual, and if she hadn't been able to make their meeting for some reason, she would have notified him as early as possible. It wasn't like her to simply not show up, and he didn't believe that she would have forgotten.
His secretary had knocked and come into his office to tell him the news of her attack fifty-five minutes after she had been found. She had apologised for the delay in telling him the news as she had been the one trying to contact the Armstrong family and had finally gotten confirmation of where they were before sending a sergeant to notify them. Grumman thanked her and asked if there was any information on her prognosis or her attacker.
"The woman who was the first to find her told the first of the military police on the scene that Lieutenant General Armstrong was only conscious for a minute or two after she was found, and she mumbled something about a military uniform, white gloves, and sparks," Samantha told him. Grumman grimaced as he realised exactly who that described. Samantha sympathised with him. She personally didn't care for Mustang due to his reputation as an outrageous flirt and womanizer, but she never would have pegged him as the kind of person who would do this sort of thing. "As for her prognosis, sir, I'm afraid I have no other information other than that her wounds didn't appear life-threatening. I've asked the hospital to notify us once they have an update on her condition."
Grumman sighed with relief. He couldn't help but feel partly responsible for the attack. If Lieutenant General Armstrong hadn't been on her way to see him, perhaps she wouldn't have been attacked. "Thank you, Samantha. Please keep me updated on her condition as you learn about it."
Samantha nodded and left him alone once more. He sighed and rubbed his face. He knew that the generals would hear about the attack and what Armstrong had supposedly said to the lady who found her within the hour if they hadn't already. It wouldn't be long before they came knocking on his door, demanding an arrest warrant. He sighed once more as he realised that he would have to give them one. He did tell them they needed physical evidence or an eyewitness that placed Brigadier General Mustang at the scene of a crime and they may have just gotten it.
Hoping to distract himself from his concerns for Armstrong, he set to work on some of the paperwork that he hadn't been able to complete due to his meetings that day. Forty minutes later, a knock came at the door again and Samantha stepped into view once he permitted her entrance. She came to stand near his desk before he nodded at her.
"I just got off the phone with Lieutenant General Armstrong's doctor, Excellency. He says she has an open fracture to the skull, a broken rib, and a hairline fracture of her wrist, as well as a multitude of other bruises and minor wounds. It appears that she put up a fight against her attacker, but was still overwhelmed. They've had to put her in a medically induced coma to keep a close eye on her head injury and to give her body a chance to heal itself as much as possible before she woke up and put too much additional stress on herself." Samantha said and an annoyed scowl flickered across her face. "Her doctor – Doctor Evans, by the way – informed me none too kindly that if we wish for Lieutenant General Armstrong to make the best possible recovery, we should refrain from having generals turn up and demand she be woken from her coma so they can question her immediately."
Grumman felt his anger bubble up. "I see. Did Doctor Evans mention which generals, by any chance?"
"General Combes and General Widdon, sir."
Of course it was those two. "Very well. I believe we'll be expecting the two of them shortly and possibly a couple of the other generals. If Lieutenant Colonel Brookes is with them, show him in first and immediately, as I'd like to speak to him alone. If Brookes is not with them you may show them in immediately." Samantha nodded and left once more. Once again, Grumman scrubbed at his face before grabbing his pen and getting back to his paperwork, trying to dull his mind so he wouldn't be able to stew in his anger at two of his generals turning up at a hospital and acting the way they did.
Half an hour later, there was a quick warning knock before the doors swung open and Samantha barely got herself out of the way of the generals storming into his office. She looked like she was going to growl at them before she remembered herself and glanced at Grumman. He held a hand up to indicate that she should wait there and she did so, though she looked a little confused.
"Führer Grumman –" General Widdon was the first one to start speaking, but stopped when Grumman stood up to level a glare at him.
"Both of you will turn around this instant and apologise to my secretary for the way you just tried to bulldoze through her. I do not care about how much of a rush you are in; it would only have taken a few seconds to allow her time to move to the side when she opened the door to permit you entrance to my office," he ordered them, his voice filled with steel. Samantha looked a little startled, while Combes and Widdon looked disgusted they'd have to apologise and surprised at his reaction respectively.
Widdon was the first to turn around and apologise to the shocked secretary. After a nudge from his companion, Combes grudgingly turned as well and offered an apology, though it was evident in his attitude that he didn't understand why he had to apologise to someone who wasn't even a member of the military. Grumman nodded to Samantha, who in turn nodded back and left the room, pulling the doors closed behind her.
"Now, what is so important that you nearly ran over my secretary?" Grumman asked, sitting back in his chair.
"We need you to sign an arrest warrant," Combes said, smiling smugly.
"For whom?" Grumman asked as he leaned back in his chair. He knew he was being a little petty, but he couldn't help himself. Widdon placed the arrest warrant on his desk.
"For Brigadier General Roy Mustang. Sir." The 'sir' seemed to have been tacked on as an afterthought by Widdon.
"On what grounds are you charging him?" Grumman asked as he picked up the papers from his desk and read through them. Combes made an irritated noise and Grumman raised a brow.
"We're charging him for murder, as you well know, Führer Grumman," Combes spat out.
"I thought I was clear that you would need an eye witness or physical evidence to arrest Mustang in relation to those crimes," Grumman stated, pretending as though he was unaware of the attempted murder of Lieutenant General Armstrong.
"We have an eye witness, sir," Widdon cut in before Combes could say anything. Given how purple Combes' face was turning, it was probably a good thing he didn't get to say anything. "Lieutenant General Armstrong was attacked this evening, Excellency. The waitress who found her told the private who questioned her that Lieutenant General Armstrong described her attacker as someone in a military uniform, wearing white gloves, and that they were making sparks with the gloves before she lost consciousness."
Grumman raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Forgive me, General Widdon. I had been told that Lieutenant General Armstrong's doctor had been forced to put her in a medically induced coma in an effort to save her life and treat her wounds after she was brought to the hospital." He made no move to pick up his pen to sign the warrant. "This means that she cannot have given you a statement herself yet. All you have to go on is the statement of the woman who was the first to find the lieutenant general after the attack, plus the similarities in the scenes. Am I correct?" Grumman asked.
"Yes, sir." Widdon managed to grind out.
Grumman sat there and considered the two men. "You can have your warrant to arrest Brigadier General Mustang for the suspicion of the murders and Lieutenant General Armstrong's attack." The generals barely held in their victorious grins, although the expressions vanished with Grumman's next statement. "However, there are three conditions. One: you will wait to file formal charges until Lieutenant General Armstrong's doctor and the general herself have agreed to let you question her. Let me be clear here. You will not talk to her until you have both her permission and her doctor's." He pinned them with a stare and waited for the terse nods. "The second condition is that if Mustang is actually charged with the crimes in question and court-martialed, you will do nothing to interfere with the defense's ability to prepare a case of their own, and you will not deny Mustang his basic right at a fair trial. Let me remind you of the innocent until proven guilty concept you keep forgetting when you start thinking about having Mustang arrested. Amestris' courts – and especially our military courts – are not for you to use as you see fit to try and get rid of your enemies and rivals."
Both generals stiffened at that. "Finally, Brigadier General Mustang's confinement is to be humane and only the minimum amount needed to contain him to ensure that he will make it to a potential court martial. Am I absolutely clear on all three conditions? If I find out that you tried to weasel your way around any of those conditions or left orders contradicting the ones about Mustang's confinement as I've laid them out, you will not like the consequences, Generals," he warned and knew he had them cornered. If they wanted Mustang to go to trial, they would have to follow his conditions and if they tried to interfere in any way to push their agenda, they'd be facing disciplinary action themselves – and as a rule, disciplinary action was harsher the higher in rank one was, since senior officers were intended to serve as an example for junior officers.
"Crystal clear, sir," Widdon said as Combes nodded. Grumman kept his glare on them both for a moment more before reaching for the arrest warrant. He read through it carefully before he picked up his pen and signed it, and then applied his seal of office. He didn't hand it over immediately when Widdon reached for it, however.
"The last thing, generals, is your despicable behaviour in the hospital this evening," Grumman said, moving the warrant out of their reach. "Never in my life did I think that anyone in our military would demand a doctor to reverse a life-saving treatment that he'd put his patient in well before the time they were ready to come out of it in a blatant display of abusing their power." The glare he leveled the two officers with would have had some men trembling. "Need I remind you that the doctors in our hospitals are not under your command? You had absolutely no right to walk into that hospital and start ordering Doctor Evans around like you did. Not only that, but you had the gall to do so in front of Lieutenant General Armstrong's family! May I remind you that Major General Philip Armstrong still holds a lot of sway with this military, despite the fact that he is retired? The two of you acted like spoiled children who had their toy taken from them and were demanding it back. You showed complete lack of respect for the doctors in that hospital and not a single ounce of empathy for the Armstrong family."
Grumman allowed his anger to bleed into his voice, but he never raised it. He had learned long ago that yelling was expected, but keeping your voice low made those you were mad at pay attention better. "The two of you were a perfect example of the entire reason most of the public doesn't trust the military completely with your disgusting behaviour in that hospital," he snapped.
"We apologise for our behaviour, sir. We can only claim that our desire to see justice brought about for the victims and Lieutenant General Armstrong overrode our common sense and we allowed it to get the best of us," Widdon said, standing at attention. Combes was standing in a similar fashion, but he looked angry that he was being scolded like a naughty child. "We have already apologised to Doctor Evans and the Armstrong family and will not allow ourselves to behave like that again. We're aware of how poorly our actions have affected the military and are sincerely apologetic about it. It won't happen again."
"Well, if your apology was anything like the one you just offered Samantha, I can understand why the doctor was still angry when she called the hospital to check on Lieutenant General Armstrong," Grumman told them. "You will each write a proper apology to Doctor Evans and his staff as well as the Armstrong family. You will both hand deliver your letters and apologise once again in person and you will have done so by tomorrow afternoon," Grumman ordered and saw the disbelief in their expressions. "If you want to act like children who didn't get their way, I will treat you how I treated mine when they acted in a similar fashion. You had better hope that the Armstrongs and Doctor Evans don't take this any further once you've apologised."
"Yes, Führer Grumman," both generals said simultaneously.
"Good." He handed over the arrest warrant. "Make sure that Lieutenant Colonel Brookes is with you when you go to serve this on Brigadier General Mustang. This is still his case after all." They both nodded. "Remember what I said and get out of my office." He dismissed them brusquely and watched as they left before slumping in his chair once the door shut.
Despite the interruption caused by that day's formal interview with Lieutenant Colonel Brookes and the generals, Mustang had been able to get the remainder of his paperwork done without having to remain at the office late into the evening. It amused him every time he realised that Hawkeye still couldn't believe that he was finishing his paperwork by the deadlines and was convinced that he had fallen back on old habits of burning and/or hiding some of it. She had recently begun randomly searching his office. When he'd mentioned (in a joking fashion) a few days ago that he was wounded by her lack of trust in him, she had leveled him with the flattest look he'd ever seen from her and he'd conceded to her silent point.
He'd returned to his office and worked as hard as he could to finish his paperwork and get out of the office at a reasonable time since he would likely be spending most of the next day in meetings to make up for the ones he'd had to cancel today. He'd been able to walk out of the office at six-thirty p.m. and was back at his home by seven-thirty, having stopped at the grocer's on his way home to buy something for dinner, or he wouldn't have been eating that night.
After eating and cleaning up from dinner, he had retreated to the couch in his living room with a glass of scotch and a book that he had been reading and had not had time to enjoy in the last few weeks due to the many late nights he'd been working.
He frowned when he heard a loud, persistent knock at his door and glanced at his wall clock, frown increasing when he saw it was nearing eleven p.m. He wasn't expecting anyone and he certainly didn't know who could be trying to cave in his front door at this time of night. He mind flicked to Edward, but dismissed the thought almost as soon as it occurred to him. If the blond alchemist was the one knocking on his door right now, he would've either already broken it down or he would've been yelling at him through it loudly enough to wake people three streets down. Or, Mustang grimaced as he set his book down on the table and rose to his feet, Edward would have simply alchemised his way through the door. He'd done that once too. Mustang hadn't been impressed. But he shook those thoughts from his mind as he grabbed the door handle, unlocked it, and opened it.
"Lieutenant Colonel Brookes," Mustang said in surprise before realising the man wasn't the only one standing on his doorstep, nor had he been the one knocking. "Generals Widdon and Combes. And," he looked at the two officers with them. "I apologise. I'm not sure we've met before." Mustang nodded at the two lieutenants. "To what do I owe this late night visit?" he asked, although he had a nasty feeling he already knew, judging from the unbelievably smug expressions on the generals' faces and the apologetic one on Brookes'.
"I'm sorry, Brigadier General Mustang. We have a warrant signed by Führer Grumman authorising us to arrest you on suspicion of five counts of murder and one count attempted murder," Brookes told him. Mustang was only partially surprised at the news.
"Who did I allegedly try to kill?" Mustang asked, curiosity winning over his dread and disbelief at the moment.
"You were seen fleeing after trying to kill Lieutenant General Olivier Mira Armstrong, Mustang," Combes crowed, pleased.
"I think you'll find your witness was very much mistaken, considering that I didn't attack Lieutenant General Armstrong. I didn't even know she was in Central already. Last I heard, she had been due to arrive from Ishval tomorrow," Mustang told them, not moving an inch from his doorway.
"It doesn't matter what lies you try to peddle, Mustang, you're still under arrest." Widdon told him and Mustang sighed.
"Wait there," he said before turning to walk to his phone. Movement that he saw from the corner of his eye had him stop. "If you take one step inside this house to arrest me, you will regret it. I am permitted to make a phone call and I am not resisting arrest," he reminded Combes, who had been the one to try and barge in. After watching them for a moment, Mustang got to his phone, still in the sight of the soldiers. He dialed the number he needed. The phone rang twice before being picked up.
"Hawkeye."
"Captain Hawkeye. I apologise for the late night phone call, but there are some generals at my door with an arrest warrant."
"Are you alright, sir?" He could hear the concern in her voice, even though they had both been prepared for this eventuality.
"I'm fine, Captain. Would you please head over here as soon as possible? I need you to secure my house and put our plan for this kind of situation into action."
"Of course, sir. Ten minutes."
"Excellent. I'll see you in a few minutes." He hung up the phone and went back to the front door. "I will be going with you once my captain arrives," he told them, knowing he needed to be seen as cooperative as possible.
"You don't get to dictate the terms of your arrest, Mustang. You will be coming with us right now," Combes ordered and tried to reach for him, but Mustang stepped smoothly out of his reach.
"Is that an arrest warrant, or is it also a search warrant?" he asked. When neither of them answered he nodded. "If it is not a search warrant, then you have no reason to enter my home. I have sensitive alchemic research here, and I need to wait for my captain to arrive so she can secure anything related to my work. She knows what to look for and where I keep all of my research and she's the only one I would trust to do so. Unless, of course, you'd like to explain to the Führer how someone was able to break into my home while I was being held, stole everything I have on my flame alchemy in this house, and started wreaking havoc across all of Amestris because you refused to wait ten minutes for Captain Hawkeye to arrive to prevent that from happening?" He knew his tone was sarcastic, but he was aiming to make a point, even if the scenario he proposed was unlikely. "I give my word that I will come along quietly, but I'm not leaving this house until Captain Hawkeye gets here," he said to Brookes.
"That's fine, Brigadier General Mustang. We certainly wouldn't want to risk something like that happening," Brookes told him and Mustang barely kept the smile off of his face. The generals couldn't try and drag him out of the house without having it look as though they were throwing their rank around or without looking as though they didn't care about the potential danger Mustang had warned them all about because they couldn't wait ten minutes and they both knew it.
A very tense and awkward ten minutes went by before a car pulled in behind Mustang's own vehicle. Hawkeye climbed out of the back seat in full dress uniform and handed some cenz over to the driver before she shut the door and he left. She leveled a cold glare on the men before they parted for her. Mustang let her into the house and stood a step or two away from the door.
"Captain Hawkeye, at this time I am officially turning command of my team over to you and authorising you to act as my replacement until you receive official orders or I am released to resume my command. Do you accept this responsibility?"
She saluted him crisply. "Of course sir. I am honoured and will serve to the best of my ability."
"Thank you, Captain. My final order to you at this time is that you secure my alchemic research and my home. You know where everything is. Hopefully this gets sorted out quickly and the real killer is caught soon." Mustang handed her his keys and his ignition gloves, in full view of the generals so they couldn't claim he still had them on his person. "You remember what we discussed?"
"Of course, Brigadier General," she replied before snapping another salute. "I'll take care of everything on my end." He gave her a grateful grin.
"Thank you, Captain." He said to her before walking over to the door and stepping over the threshold. As he'd hoped, Brookes was the first one to get to him.
"Brigadier General Roy Mustang, you are under arrest for the murders of Captain Chase Bryce, Major Colin Pardi, Colonel James Summers, Brigadier General Aleyce Henley, and Major General Bernard Andrews, as well as the attempted murder of Lieutenant General Olivier Mira Armstrong. At this time, you will be temporarily stripped of your rank; however if you are found innocent of all charges your rank will be reinstated without penalty. You have the right to your own attorney if you wish, but if you cannot afford one the military will appoint you one. You have the right to remain silent as anything you say can and will be held against you during your court-martial. Do you understand your rights as I've explained them to you?" Brookes asked as he snapped the cuffs around Mustang's wrists, securing his arms behind his back.
"I do, Lieutenant Colonel Brookes. I have a lawyer. Captain Hawkeye will undoubtedly be calling him now to meet us at Central Command," Mustang told him and Brookes nodded. Mustang got the pleasure of seeing Combes' and Widdon's aggravation at being deprived of the opportunity to be the ones arresting him first hand. He would have laughed in any other sort of situation, but all he could feel was a large ball of dread settle in his stomach. However, to Mustang's surprise, he wasn't immediately led to the waiting car.
"Lieutenant O'Conner, Lieutenant Wayne, please remain here to guard the house from any opportunistic people. Decide between yourselves who will be guarding the back of the property, but do not step inside unless you suspect someone to have somehow slipped past the other and entered the house. Captain Hawkeye will be returning to her own home once she has finished what she needs to do and will secure the house behind herself. You will remain here until you are relieved in a few hours by the next guard rotation. I will accompany them myself so I can get your reports. If I am not with them, do not leave the property," Brookes ordered the two lieutenants.
"Yes, sir," they both saluted before relaxing once Brookes released them from the salute.
"Lieutenant Colonel Brookes, may I request that you give Captain Hawkeye a list of the soldiers you plan to use to guard my house? She can tell you if any of them shouldn't be trusted with this duty." The two generals went to say something, their mouths forming sneers, but Brookes cut them off.
"Of course. I had planned to anyway," Brookes assured him as they headed towards the line of military cars at the curb.
Mustang eased himself into the back seat of the one Brookes led him to. He slid over as Brookes gestured for him to do so and the lieutenant colonel joined him while the two generals split up and settled themselves in their own cars. Mustang rolled his eyes at their silent display of power as Brookes gave the driver instructions to head to Central Command. He glanced back at his house as they pulled away before facing forward once more and trying to fight down the worry he was feeling. Lanco was an excellent lawyer and he had agreed to take Mustang's case should he be arrested, so Mustang knew he was in safe hands, but he couldn't help his worry. He just hoped this all got sorted out before too long.
A/N - Dun dun dun! What's gonna happen now? Unfortunately, you'll have to wait until next week to find out. Just an FYI, but the chapters will be roughly this length from here on out so be prepared!
As always, I would love to thank my amazing beta, PhoenixQueen, for her awesome work on this chapter and I would love to thank everyone who has written a review for the last chapters. Reviews make my whole day so much better when I see them so please keep posting your thoughts!
GuestP, since I can't reply to your review, thank you for your review on chapter 3. I'm glad you like Brookes :) I will see everyone next week with the next chapter!