A/N Sorry about the wait blah blah blah and all that.
Okay, a lot going on in this chapter lots of people introduced and the like, so exciting! On another note, it has come to my attention that some people have been a little confused about the world they're in, so allow me to set a few parameters. They're in an entirely human world, no alchemists, homunculus, or magic of any kind (Ed and Mustang just punched me for saying 'magic' instead of science, but whatever). That being said, several of the homunculi will be making appearances, but they are all just humans (albeit evil ones). The world itself is a modern New York, but it's really set in the 80s or 90s, with stuff like personal computers, but no cell phones (at least not the ones we think of today). Anyway, if there are any more questions, feel free to put it in a review or PM me and I'll be happy to answer them!
With all that out of the way, please enjoy chapter 4 of the Price of Life!
After a quarter of an hour or so, Breda and Falman reentered the room, carrying with them enough lunch for everyone, Ed and Al included. Hawkeye quickly assigned Falman to do some research on precedent for similar cases, but left Breda to join Havoc on baby-sitting duty.
The two joked back and forth like normal in between bites of lunch, occasionally trying to draw one or both of the Elrics into the conservation. After a few such attempts, Alphonse was a fairly consistent participator in his own reserved way, and even Edward could be expected to say a line or two now and again, though they were mostly short and superficial comments. Not that Havoc could blame them for being detached after what they had been through, not to mention the chief's interrogation (no matter how necessary it was).
They were in the middle of discussing how much the Mets sucked at recruiting players when a woman walked into the office. She was young, mid-twenties at the latest. She hesitated in the doorway for a moment, determined expression on her face. As soon as he saw her, Havoc hit Breda on the shoulder and nodded to her.
"First one of the year," he whispered under his breath. "I told you it was going to be the chick, she has fire in her eyes!"
"Hey, don't get ahead of yourself, Havoc. You don't know why she's here," Breda responded, tone equally low. "I'm still betting on the greaser with the broken nose."
"Nah, that guy's all talk!"
"What's going on?" Alphonse whispered.
"Watch this," Havoc said chuckling, "This girl's going to go up to Hawkeye, talk for about thirty seconds and leave looking very disappointed."
Sure enough, the girls' eyes lit up as she caught sight of the other woman. She marched confidently over to her, smirk on her face. The boys watched in fascination as in the course of a few seconds, the girl's face visibly fell as Hawkeye was talking, and eventually she nodded sheepishly and slunk towards the door.
"Awww, damn it," Breda muttered.
"Ha! You owe me twenty bucks!" Havoc said triumphantly.
Breda pulled his wallet out and handed over the money, still grumbling under his breath.
"What the hell just happened?" Ed asked, becoming more than just obligatorily interested in the conversation for the first time.
"It happens every year," Havoc said. "As soon as May rolls around we get a new batch of summer interns, on holiday from all the best law schools. I'm talking Harvard and Yale here."
The Elrics nodded.
"Anyway," Breda continued, taking over from his friend. "These interns all like to think that they're the best lawyer since Clarence Darrow. But, in order to be number one-"
"They have to take down the guy currently holding the title," Edward guessed. "I.e. Mustang."
"Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner!" Havoc said. "Anyway, as a firm full of top notch defense lawyers, F. Bradley's senior partners are very aware of how often office relationships lead to sexual harassment and favoritism, so they have a zero-tolerance policy when it comes to fraternization."
"So of course, when interns hear that the famed playboy Roy Mustang has a pretty young blonde working for him…" Breda said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
"They assume there's more than just professional relationship," Ed said.
"Bingo!" Havoc exclaimed. "Normally the partners would overlook a flaw as minor as promiscuity in someone as valuable as Mustang, but if they were presented with direct evidence of a forbidden relationship…"
"They'd be forced to fire him."
Havoc nodded. "So they come in here one by one, sniffing around, until they talk to Hawkeye."
"And then realize there's no way she's sleeping with her boss," Alphonse finished.
Both Havoc and Breda started guffawing. "We estimate it takes about fifteen seconds of knowing the Lieutenant for all their dreams to vanish," Breda said, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.
Soon, Al and Ed found that they were laughing too. "Do you think that Ms. Hawkeye knows?" Al asked in between chuckles.
"Definitely," Havoc and Breda said at the same time.
"She totally amps up the coldness whenever any of them come in." Breda said. "Trust me, if the title "Ice Queen" wasn't already claimed by Chief Armstrong, Hawkeye would be a shoe-in."
The four of them erupted into another fit of laughter, which only dissipated after the very woman in question sent them a disapproving glare. With a few last chuckles here and there, they went back to discussing pointless, easy topics this time with Ed and Al as full contributors.
The room fell into a relatively peaceful quiet, which went uninterrupted for a number of minutes, until the door was dramatically thrown open and a tall man entered. He was probably around six feet, with thin glasses, sage green eyes, and permanent sort of beard scruff that gave him the distinct look of a puppy. He raised his arm in an animated greeting, grin plastered across his cheeks. "Roy!" he shouted, stepping into the office.
From his desk by the window Mustang groaned. "What do you want, Maes?" he asked, clearly dreading the answer.
"Only to show you the cutest pictures in the world!" The man bounded across the room (there really was no other word for it) pulling a wad of Polaroids from the pocket of his sport coat.
"I don't have time for this," Mustang grumbled to himself as the photos were shoved under his nose and cooed at by the other man.
"Awww, look at this one! Little Elicia's second birthday!"
"Maes-"
"And here's one with her beautiful mother cutting the cake!"
"I swear to God-"
"And look! Here she is with the present I got her! Isn't she the cutest thing in the world?" The man clutched the pictures to his heart, and even from his vantage point a few feet away, Havoc could make out the tears beginning to form in the man's eyes. "What did I do to deserve two such perfect angels?" he asked dramatically.
"That's Maes Hughes, he's an associate here," Havoc whispered to Ed and Al, who both looked somewhere in between shocked and a little disturbed. "He and the chief went to law school together."
Like a dog catching a scent, as soon as he spoke, Hughes looked up at them. "Havoc!" He called. "You have to see these new pictures of Elicia!"
Havoc groaned and mumbled a few curses under his breath.
Hughes came over to their desks, pictures held firmly in his hand.
"Is there a real reason why you're here, Maes?" Mustang asked from across the room.
Hughes paused, as if trying to remember something. Suddenly (if possible) an even wider grin spread across his face. "Yes!" he said, digging into another pocket. "To show you pictures from Elicia's first trip to the beach!"
Mustang began banging his head against the desk.
"Uh, I think he means a work-related reason, sir," Hawkeye said, stepping into the conversation.
Hughes laughed, walked back towards Mustang's desk, and fell into the open chair across from him. "The senior partners want to see you," he said.
"Damn it," Mustang sighed. He lifted his head up to face his friend. "What for?"
"Something about turning down a wealthy client."
"Yoki," he guessed.
Hughes nodded. "Yep, that was it."
Mustang sighed again. "When do they want to see me?" he asked.
"I got the distinct impression that sooner would be better than later," Hughes said, still smiling.
With a significant amount of grumbling, Mustang stood up. "Hawkeye, I'm heading over to the board room," he said, walking towards the door.
His number one nodded.
Mustang pulled the door open and was about to leave, when he turned back to the room. "And Maes, try not to torture my team too much, okay?"
Hughes lifted a hand in acknowledgement. As soon as the door was shut though, he found the other pictures and began showing them to anyone he could corner. Fuery got the play date with the neighbor, Breda got the rainstorm, and poor Falman was stuck with the dress-up party. After brief introductions to the Elrics, Hughes showed them and Havoc a miscellaneous stack of everything from 'Gracia takes Elicia shopping' to 'Elicia gets a doughnut'.
"Don't you have some other work to be doing, sir?" Hawkeye asked as politely as possible after Hughes had shown her what must have been at lest three separate rolls of film. After he assured her that there was absolutely nothing more important he could be doing with his time, she tried again, this time a little less subtle. "Well, we certainly have a lot of work that has to get done," she said. When he didn't seem to notice, she added, "And soon."
Finally the man seemed to get the hint, and slunk out the office, but not without the promise of bringing in even more pictures the following day.
A quiet peace once again fell over the office, this one just as short-lived as the first, as a tentative knock at the door brought everyone out of their separate reveries. Hawkeye opened it, and saw two unfamiliar figures standing in the hallway. There was a little old woman, with a severe face and large glasses, and behind her stood a girl who looked to be about Ed's age with long blonde hair pulled back in a high pony tail. Her eyes were red and puffy, making it was clear that she had been crying.
"You must be the Rockbells," Hawkeye said, and the two women nodded.
At the name, Edward and Alphonse stood up and looked to the door.
"Please come in." Hawkeye gestured for them to enter the office. "The Elrics are just over there," she said, pointing.
Hawkeye watched as the girl ran over to meet them, capturing Alphonse in a tight hug, the old woman following closely behind. Edward stood a little away, looking down at his feet. It seemed to catch him by surprise when the girl launched herself at him. Hawkeye saw her bury her face in Ed's shoulder, and watched as his arms wrapped around her. She seemed to be whispering something to the teenager, and though Hawkeye couldn't make out the words for the first time since she met him, she saw Ed's eyes shine with the beginnings of tears. She found herself looking away, suddenly feeling as if she was intruding on a private moment of grief.
After a few more seconds of teary hugs and the giving of condolences, Pinako excused herself and made her way back towards Hawkeye, stopping when she reached the woman. "I was wondering if there was a place where I could speak to the boys alone," she said.
"Of course," Hawkeye answered. "You can use Mr. Mustang's personal office," she said, gesturing to a largely unused room by the window.
The old woman nodded, and went to collect the boys. The three of them entered the office, leaving the girl sitting alone on a bench outside the room.
Hawkeye went back to her work, but found that she couldn't concentrate on the papers in front of her. She looked up, catching sight of the girl shifting uncomfortably on the bench. Her head bowed as she tried for the tenth time to read the same sentence. She sighed, and looked up again. In a spur-of-the-moment decision, she stood up and marched briskly across the room, coming to a stop beside the girl.
She hesitated a moment, biting her bottom lip. Finally she spoke. "Do you mind if I sit?"
The girl glanced up, noticing the woman for the first time. She gave a short nod, her head falling to rest against her chest.
Hawkeye sat on the edge of the seat, not wanting to crowd the girl. After a few minutes of sitting in an uncomfortable silence, she asked, "What's your name?"
The girl turned to face her, and Hawkeye saw the tracks of old tears on her cheeks. "Winry." Her voice was quiet, but Hawkeye could still make out the small tremors that shook it.
"I'm Riza," she said.
Winry didn't respond. Her gaze dropped down to her hands which were fisted against her knees.
"It's nice to meet you," Hawkeye tried again.
Silence fell across them again like a shroud, and Hawkeye was about to give up and go back to her work, when Winry asked, "What's going to happen to Ed and Al?" her face still pointed towards the ground.
Hawkeye looked down at the girl in surprise. "Well Alphonse is going to be fine. I talked to your grandmother on the phone, and he's going to stay at your apartment for now."
"And Ed?"
Hawkeye sighed. That was a significantly more complicated question. "We—Mr. Mustang and the rest of us—are going to try our hardest to make sure Edward will be joining you before long."
Winry's fingers tightened. "He didn't do it."
Hawkeye's hand reached out to touch the girl's shoulder comfortingly, but hesitated a few inches away.
"He loved Miss Trisha more than anything, he would never hurt her!"
She opened her mouth, planning to explain that it wasn't that simple, but stopped before she began. "I know," she said simply.
Winry turned to face the woman, surprise written across her features.
Now it was Hawkeye who found she couldn't look the girl in the eye. "I… I know what it's like growing up in neighborhood like yours. I know what you think of lawyers like us—that we defend millionaires and couldn't care less about normal people—but I promise Mr. Mustang isn't like that. I promise that we'll work as hard as we can and that we will win Ed's case and he'll be home before you know it."
With that, Hawkeye stood up and began to walk away.
"Wait, Miss…" Winry trailed off, hand catching the sleeve of Hawkeye's jacket.
The other woman turned. "Please, just call me Riza."
Winry's eyes dropped in embarrassment. "Riza," she said. She paused a moment, fingers still tracing the tight stitching on the hem of Hawkeye's blazer, and her teeth ran along her bottom lip as she seemed to consider whether or not to speak. "Thank you," she said finally, hand falling back to her lap.
Hawkeye nodded in acknowledgment and turned back towards her desk.
Mustang sauntered into the board room, trying his best ignore the way all its occupants suddenly got very quiet as he entered. Clearly, they had just been discussing him. He looked around at the long table, and the eight or nine older faces around it. F. Bradley was a large law firm with more senior partners than they knew what to with, and it seemed they had all shown up to watch Mustang get his ass handed to him.
"Take a seat, Mr. Mustang," One of them said, gesturing to an open seat on the other side of the table.
Mustang resisted the urge to make some dry comment about the drama of it all, and sat down. "Hughes said you wanted to see me?" he asked, voice clipped with a calculated politeness.
"We-" one of the partners started, but stopped when the man sitting in the center of the table raised his hand. F. Bradley himself. He was older, closer to sixty than fifty, though he still had a strong presence to him: dark black hair just barely tinged with grey combed neatly, a straight back, and broad shoulders that still seemed quite well-muscled despite his age.
"Mr. Mustang," he said, and although the words weren't particularly loud or forceful, something about his voice made you want to stop and listen. It was the voice of a leader. "It's come to our attention that you've turned down the chance to represent a potentially…. lucrative client."
Mustang sat up a little to face the man head on. "I believe it's still within my rights to choose whether or not I take a case," he said carefully.
"Yoki's worth millions!" Another partner spoke up from the end of the table, white beard quivering with passion. "And not only that, he could open the door to more rich clients!"
"Ahh yes, all of his other corrupt buddies," Mustang couldn't resist adding.
The man spluttered.
Again, Bradley held up his hand to silence the room. "You know as well as I do Mr. Mustang that we can't allow our personal feelings cloud our judgment when it comes to clients. The American justice system asserts that everyone has a right to legal counsel, and it is our ethical responsibility to represent them to the best of our ability, no matter their crimes."
Mustang had to grasp the edge of the table to keep himself from rolling his eyes. Who in the world did these so call partners think they were to lecture him about ethics? It was no secret that half the men in the room owned summer homes thanks to people like Yoki. Economics, not the selfless desire to insure justice and equal protection under the law is what drove these men, and all of them knew it. "If you'll notice sir," he started, unable to keep all of the sarcasm out of his voice. "I simply referred Yoki to one of my esteemed colleagues, I didn't send him to another firm."
"He specifically asked for you, Mr. Mustang," Bradley said. "And despite his fall from grace, Yoki still wields a significant amount of power. Staying on his good side, and keeping this firm there as well, would benefit everyone."
"Archer can handle this case, just as well as I could. Better in fact."
"But he doesn't want Archer, he wants you."
Mustang sighed. It was time to pull out the big guns. "Well, I would've taken Yoki's case," a few of the men snorted, proving just how much they believed that statement, but Mustang continued on, ignoring them. "But I had just accepted another one right before he called."
"So? Work them both," A partner suggested.
Mustang chuckled. "Believe me, this isn't the kind of case you can wrap up with a few hours of paperwork and negotiation."
Across the table, Bradley raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? Well, by all means tell us about this case, Mr. Mustang."
The lawyer hesitated a moment, biting his bottom lip. Now came the tricky part, putting the Elrics' situation into terms the partners would respond to. "It's a murder case," he started carefully. "Some kid wrongfully accused of shooting his mother. It's going to be a big one for the press."
Murmurs erupted through the room, though Bradley seemed unaffected. "And tell me, who is providing the funds for you work?" he asked going for the exact topic the younger man had hoped to steer them away from.
Mustang winced. "I'm doing it pro bono."
"You mean to tell me that you turn down a case that could bring over a million dollars into this firm in order to represent someone for free?"
Mustang lounged back in his chair, carefully configuring his face to an expression of indifference, as if he didn't really care what happened wither way. "I'm not some saint, you know that. I wouldn't have taken this case if I didn't think it had potential to be worth just as much as Yoki's." He paused a moment for affect. "If not with money, then with free publicity."
"There are almost 2,000 homicides in New York City every year, tell me, what's so special about this one?" Bradley asked.
"Easy," Mustang answered, self-assured smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "We make it special. People love a good murder, and this story is gory and enticing enough to get anyone to buy a paper. If we handle it right, we could dominate headlines for weeks. Think about it, F. Bradley's name in the paper everyday. That, my friends, is priceless."
Bradley leaned back in his chair. "I must admit, Mustang, I'm intrigued." He thought for a second. "Alright. You have our permission to pursue this case. We'll give Yoki to Archer."
"But-" Another partner started.
"You had better make it worth our while," Bradley said, ignoring the other man's protests. "That's all. You can go."
Mustang nodded, got up, and left the room glad to get away from the hypocrisy of the partners.
Hawkeye glanced at the clock. It was late, pushing one in the morning, and the offices were just about deserted for the night. Pinako had taken both of the Elrics and Winry back to a hotel room they were renting (none of them particularly wanted to spend the night in the apartment complex where Trisha had been murdered just hours earlier), Breda and Havoc had left to grab a few drinks dragging Falman and Fuery with them. They had invited Mustang and Hawkeye to come along, but for once the former was consumed by work and for the latter, being the last to leave the office was a matter of pride, so they both remained behind.
Since then, Mustang had barely looked up from his desk. Really, it was like the man had two settings; goof off and get nothing done, or allow himself to be completely consumed by a project. The paralegal sighed and stood up, carefully making her way over to Mustang who was currently poring over a few thick law volumes. "Sir," she started. "As nice as it is seeing you actually working for a change, I think it's about time we quit for the night."
Mustang looked up, surprised. "But it's only," he glanced down at his watch. "12:45," he said, and laughed slightly. "Sorry, Hawkeye. I guess I lost track of time."
The woman swallowed her smiled. "I guess you did sir."
Mustang stood up and stretched, joints cracking. "It's just this case."
Hawkeye nodded. "I know what you mean. It's one of the tougher ones we've handled."
"It's more than just that, though," he said, and then paused, seeming unsure of his thoughts. "I mean you were right about the kid—he's innocent—but I'm not sure what to do about it." Mustang collapsed back in his chair, and begun spinning back and forth absently.
Hawkeye perched on the desk, arms crossed against her chest. "You prove it," she said.
He chuckled. "If only it were that easy. Say what you will about the cops, but Olivier runs a tight ship; he's their lead suspect for a reason. I mean, there's a lot of coincidence in his story, he happens to forget his Subway pass and comes home just at the right moment to catch the last few seconds of his mother's life, but not in time to see who did it. Not only that but there's no forced entry and he had the bad luck to pick up the gun." Mustang sighed. "It doesn't look great."
"But you believe him?" It was somewhere between a statement and question, and Mustang could tell from the hint of defensiveness in her tone that her feelings regarding the boy were unchanged.
"Yeah, I do. I don't believe that he has the will to fake the kind of emotions he was showing earlier, but it's not like he let the cops see them." He looked up at Hawkeye then. "Why did you believe him? Earlier, when he was being interrogated by Buccaneer and had half the police force convinced they'd caught a murderer?"
The woman looked off into the distance. "I'm not sure entirely. Chief Armstrong let me watch from the observation room for a few minutes, and I guess I felt bad for him. He was clearly heartbroken."
"Well you seem to be the only one who noticed," Mustang pointed out.
Hawkeye shrugged. "It was just instinctual. He's seems like a good kid, he cared for mom and looks out for his little brother. Maybe a little quick to anger, but he's smart—super smart, I mean you saw," she said.
Mustang nodded slowly. He was. Surprisingly so. Whether or not that was a good thing, however, remained to be seen.
From her place on his desk, Hawkeye chuckled. "I guess that he reminded me of another boy I knew, too smart for his own good with a bit of anger streak, who had the potential to rise above his situation and change the world for the better."
Mustang looked down at his hands.
"I guess I want to make sure that Edward gets the same chance you did, sir."
"Do you think that's we're doing, Hawkeye? Changing the world?"
"Don't you?"
He sighed. "I used to. I mean that was the goal. Become a lawyer, protect the people who need protection, but working here," he said, gesturing to the room around them. "It's easy to forget that. I mean, I just met with the partners and swore up and down that my only interest in Ed's case was the media potential. It makes you wonder what other compromises I've made and will have to make, all in pursuit of good. I guess-" he paused. "I guess I'm just afraid of ending up like them."
Hawkeye considered him for a moment. "I think we have to take it one case at time. Right now let's get Edward off, and afterwards think about the rest."
Mustang sighed and stood up. "I guess you're right, Hawkeye."
She smiled, straightening up as well. "I always am, sir."
"Yes, you are." He chuckled.
"Oh, by the way, I talked to Rebecca. She managed to get herself assigned to case but doesn't know if she'll be able to buy us anymore time. She's coming down tomorrow to meet Edward."
"Oh, that reminds me!" Mustang said. "I have to call Armstrong in the morning."
"Olivier?" Hawkeye asked. "But I thought you already got Miles to fax over the police report."
"No, not the Ice Queen, Alex. The Times will get a hold of this story soon enough and we'll be screwed if we don't get out in front of it." He sighed again. "I really should've called him this afternoon—if they end up labeling Ed a cold-blooded killer instead of an unfortunate teenager we're screwed—but he's just so…"
"Hard to deal with?" Hawkeye supplied, amused smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
"Yes!" Mustang groaned. "I mean if I wanted to hear a detailed description of the Armstrong family history for the past four generations I'd go to my local library."
She laughed. "I'll tell you what, sir, if you promise to actually get some sleep when you go home and not just keep on working till it's time to come back, I'll call Maria Ross directly tomorrow, no need to get the editor-in-chief involved at all."
"You know he's just going to show up anyway," Mustang muttered.
"That's the best I can do, sir."
"Okay, fine. Deal," he said, holding out his hand.
"Good." She shook it shortly. Ready to go?" she asked, moving toward the door. "I already called the car service, they're waiting outside."
He nodded and followed her, stopping at the threshold of the door and gazing back at the room. "This is going to be a tough one, Hawkeye, I can feel it."
"Yes, sir," Hawkeye agreed, handed him his coat and ushered him out of the office.
"I think the only way this is going to work is if we find out who really killed Trisha Elric," Mustang said as the two started down the hallway towards the elevator.
Hawkeye sighed. "I was afraid of that."
Mustang stopped suddenly as a thought occurred to him. "Have you found anything out about the father? Ex husband might have a motive."
"As far as I can tell, they were never married." Hawkeye said. "I haven't been able to find any trace of him in the past few years. Just about all I have is his name, Van Hohenheim."
"Hohenheim?" Mustang asked thoughtfully.
"Yeah. Do you know him?"
"No I don't think so… but the name does sound familiar." He thought about for another moment before shrugging his shoulders. "Whatever it is, we'll figure it out tomorrow. Now, let's get some shut eye."
Hawkeye agreed wholeheartedly, and soon the two were off towards the elevators again.
A/N and thus ends the longest chapter I've ever written! Hopefully it wasn't too boring, we're still kind of in set up mode (which I realize is a little ridiculous because we're 10,000 words in). If you feel there needs to be more action, don't worry hopefully that's coming up. Anyway, I'm not sure when I'll be able to update again and to be perfectly honest this is just about as far as I'd gotten in the thinking process when I started writing this, but I'm sure it'll come together. Anyway, thank you to everyone who has reviewed/favorited/followed and please keep it up!
Also, i'm in kind of a hurry to post this, so it hasn't been super thoroughly checked for mistakes, so if you see any just tell me and I'll fix them!
