I don't have much to say in my author's notes these days. Meh, a story should always stand on its own merit, anyway, regardless of shipping and fluff. I hope that's the case here. Chapter 10 time!

Chapter 10

"It seems…almost impossible," Hawkeye breathed out. She was currently sitting in her kitchen with her hair down and a cup of coffee in her hands. Roy, meanwhile, was rifling through her fridge, hoping to find something that could fill the empty pit in his stomach since his conversation. He had hightailed it there in ten minutes after it had finished. "Selim Bradley…But why now?"

"I have no answers," he answered. Finally, his eyes saw an old piece of Veggie Lovers pizza. It wasn't exactly his style, but it would have to do. "All I know is what I told you."

"You don't trust him…" she commented. Roy actually threw her a scathing look.

"Would you?" he asked. Hawkeye almost laughed because the answer to the question was so obvious. Given everything that had happened, that Selim Bradley himself had done, it would be impossible to trust the teenager.

"True. Could be a trap," Hawkeye reasoned. Mustang grunted his same suspicions with the pizza sticking out of his mouth. "There are a few ways you could play this for minimal loss, though."

"'At's why I came to 'oo," he said back with his mouth full. She just gave him a disgusted look.

"Supposedly, Selim wants a safe house, so why not use the apartment Havoc squatted in to catch Gluttony? Of course, we'll search him before that," Hawkeye said authoritatively. Roy grinned as he swallowed. He knew there was another reason he kept her around. "The tricky part is securing the meet given the short timeframe."

"Well, we'll have at least three people to help us in this situation," he said. Hawkeye said nothing, likely because it was hardly a comforting thought. Havoc, Breda, and Feury were wonderful, but they were hardly a replacement for a fully outfitted police squad.

"Which one of them lives closest to the Armstrong mansion…?" she asked, though Roy realized it was more to herself than to him. "Havoc, of course. If Selim wants to be safe, he won't arrive at the meet until just before. Call Havoc and have him scout out any potential hiding places. Breda will stand by with a vehicle to transfer and Feury will jam any signals. That would at least minimize our chances of falling into a trap."

"Obviously, I'm making the meet, but what about you and Havoc?" Roy asked as he polished off his snack with a glass of water. Riza stood from her table and strode from the kitchen. He followed her and watched her clip her hair up as she strode to her front hall closet. Once there, she reached inside and grabbed out a sniper rifle and a pack of bullets. Mustang looked at the scene amusedly until she reached further in and took out two more standard size guns. That was when amusement turned to exasperation.

"What do you think I plan to do?" she asked as she slung the rifle around her shoulders and holstered her guns.

"I think you're scary sometimes," he answered honestly. "I also think you take the right to bear arms a little too seriously."

"Haven't I told you, sir? I like guns," Hawkeye said back with a faint grin.

"A little too much," Mustang joked with her. "At least you haven't found an excuse to shoot me in the back."

"Not yet, and besides, even if I did, I don't think I could live with myself." That statement had been serious. "I can't imagine a world without the both of us in it together."

"Riza…" Roy tried to approach her, not exactly sure what he felt at her statement. He wasn't sure what he would do, but the point was rendered moot as Riza shook the issue off her shoulders.

"Enough romantic chitchat, sir. We have work to do." And so they did. No rest for the wicked, as people would say. Before they were even out the door, Mustang's phone was back in his hands calling Havoc.

"'Sup, chief?" the detective asked blearily, obviously just waking up from sleep.

"I need you to go down to the industrial park by the Armstrong mansion. Find any potential hiding places or blind spots," he answered without a moment of delay. Havoc yawned on the other end.

"No problem. What's this about?"

"Can you trust me?" It was a hard thing to ask with everything that had happened recently; he knew that, but he didn't want to waste time answering any questions. Havoc gave a simple grunt and the line clicked off. Seconds later found him calling Breda and then Feury. It was the same thing each time: Mustang would ask them to do something, they'd ask why, and he'd ask them to trust him. All of them did.

The result ended up being that by the time Mustang and Hawkeye were in his car, their plan was set. Breda would take an old van he had bought (for sting purposes) and pick up Feury. They'd park where they had parked seven months ago and wait for Selim Bradley to arrive, or at least, that's what Hawkeye would tell them over the radio before the operation commenced. Feury would have to disable comms, but he wasn't too worried about that. Remaining undetected was the tricky part, but speed was essential. Roy's speed got them there with only ten minutes left before the set meet time. Havoc met them there.

"I only found a couple blind spots, but judging by the sniper rifle, I've got the perfect place to set her up to cover them all," he explained, his own gun ready in his hands. "Chief, are you gonna tell me what this is about? I felt like an idiot coming out here."

"I got a call from Selim Bradley," Mustang told the blonde detective. Havoc registered shock, but realized it wasn't the time to say anything. "He wants to meet me here in less than ten minutes. He also wants us to take him to a secure location. We will, but I don't trust him."

"Who would?" Havoc mumbled out. "Guess I'm the muscle, then?" Roy nodded as he saw the burgundy colored van with tinted windows pull up next to the park. Breda and Feury were here. The chief checked his watch and noted that there were less than five minutes until the meet. He glanced around and noticed that Hawkeye had already vanished while Havoc was slinking around to what was probably a blind spot. This left Mustang standing in an open space just inside the industrial park.

Roy's eyes darted every which way. He couldn't be taken unawares. The park itself was secured, so he found himself watching the dimly lit streets surrounding them. His hand slid to his side and pulled out his gun, now knowing he'd meet the person over the phone. It was silent as he waited, his gun held at his side, which made the circumstances even creepier than they already were. Still, he focused in the darkness for any movement. He did, however, take a brief moment to let his eyes slide down to his watch. Meet time was less than a minute away.

A dog barked. Roy gripped his gun tighter. There was a slight rustle, like someone putting out trash bags for the night. It wasn't entirely suspicious, but Roy saw a hobo edging along with a cart full of plastic grocery bags. The chief's eyes narrowed. Why would a hobo be in the industrial district? There was almost nothing to be had here; no food…and no trash, either. Mustang raised his gun and leveled it at the homeless man, who froze. Neither moved, and Roy's eyes frosted over.

"You can drop the act, Selim Bradley," he said authoritatively. The homeless man sighed and ripped the fake beard and tattered jacket from himself.

"How'd you guess?" the boy asked. At the same moment, he finally stepped into the light. Selim Bradley wasn't a boy, but he was hardly a man. His hair was sticking up in every direction and the stubble on his chin was entirely un-groomed. At almost sixteen, Selim was starting to look like his father, though admittedly worse off. In fact, Roy was inclined to think that he looked emaciated, though based on the bags under his eyes, the chief wasn't sure if it was from lack of food or lack of sleep. Put simply, Selim Bradley was undoubtedly no longer living the life he was accustomed to.

"I know the city, and homeless people don't frequent a place that doesn't give out scraps and a warm bed," Mustang answered the inquiry. "But you're from Central, so you wouldn't know the city as well as I do."

"Well played…" Selim chuckled out. He entered the industrial park, leaving the cart behind, and strode towards Mustang. He stopped short when he saw the gun still trained on him. "There's no need for the weapon, Detective Mustang."

"Oh, okay, I'll just put my gun away," Mustang said back with a roll of his eyes. "Are you alone?"

"Yes," Selim said without a beat. It was either incredibly rehearsed or completely true. Roy still didn't lower his gun; nothing this boy said could be trusted. "I'm here to help, okay?"

"And I'm president," Roy mocked back. Selim flinched at these words. An odd reaction, to be sure, but he took no pity on the boy. "You'll forgive me if I treat everything you say as a lie."

"Are you kidding me?" he asked exasperatedly. "Look, I get it; I was a monster, but come on…"

"You tried to kill Fullmetal," Roy said angrily. The mere fact that this kid was involved with his father's corporation, the corporation that had killed Hughes for money, was enough to get Mustang's blood boiling. He wasn't about to breach that subject, though.

"Oh, you mean like you did at that warehouse?" Roy cocked the gun. Something was off. How did he know that? Only himself, his team and the Elrics had known the exact circumstances. Maybe a couple other officers knew some detail, but there hadn't been any coverage on those particular details. How, then, was Selim Bradley aware of that? "Do you trust me now?"

"Actually," Roy answered with a scowl, "I trust you less." He lowered his gun fractionally and fired a shot into the boy's foot. Selim screamed, but Roy came behind him and clocked him on the head with his gun. It was a good thing it was so late, because no one was in the industrial district to hear the gunshot or the scream. Still made him wish he had a silencer, though.

"That wasn't part of the plan, chief," Havoc said, stepping out of the shadows. "Why did you have to go and shoot him?"

"He pissed me off," Mustang answered honestly. "Besides, whatever information he had, I'd rather get it somewhere safer. This makes it easier to move him and prevents him from running away."

"That's cold, boss," Breda said. He had just arrived from the van, whose door was open. Mustang shook his head and looked to the ground to see a bullet lodged in the dirt. As Havoc and Breda took hold of Selim's unconscious form, Mustang bent down and picked it up. Couldn't leave any evidence behind, after all.

"It was just a graze," he informed his subordinates. They just grunted under the pressure of heaving Selim. Roy turned away and nodded in the direction he figured Hawkeye was in. "All right, Hawkeye filled you in, so take him to the location and make sure he can't leave. Hawkeye and I will join you there shortly. Be discreet."

Only a salute was given, but it was easy enough to ascertain their answer. Roy finally holstered his gun and walked out of the obviously secure industrial park to his car. Ever the model of proficiency, Hawkeye was already there, her sniper rifle dismantled and in the backseat. She said nothing of his actions. Either she felt it wasn't her place to interfere or she secretly felt that Selim deserved it. Roy honestly didn't care. He didn't take any satisfaction from shooting the boy; it was simply a necessary action. Now, maybe they could get some answers.

The two of them arrived just minutes after Havoc and the others, but that had clearly been ample time to move Selim in without detection. It helped that it was so late at night. There was no light coming from the apartment save for a very faint, fluorescent one, and that suited their operation just fine. Mustang and Hawkeye slipped into the room, with Breda locking it as soon as they were inside and giving them a "he's clear". Selim was tied to a chair and was starting to come to. Roy sat on another chair before him as he regained consciousness. The first thing he saw was Roy.

"That hurt," he spat through gritted teeth. Roy could truly not care less.

"Talk," he commanded instead.

"What about?" Selim asked. Though his tone sounded cocky to the East City chief, his face hardly was.

"Everything."

Selim sighed, as though what he was doing was such a heavy burden. "Where do I start? Seven months ago…I guess…"

"You were part of Homunculus, and you fled. Why? You were just a kid," Roy said, tapping impatiently on his knew.

"The implications of being aware of my father's activities would have put me in a jail cell. Even though it hurt my mother, I couldn't stay. I had to run."

"Where did you run to?" Hawkeye asked. She had her own gun out now; a fact that Selim noticed.

"Anywhere still connected with Homunculus that was safe. It was harder than it looked since you guys were way too effective at cleaning up the remnants. On top of that, no one wanted to help me out because I was just a kid, even if I was Bradley's kid. So, after a couple weeks of looking, I finally tracked down my father's financial backer."

"Archer?" Roy asked. Selim shook his head and the chief deflated. He had hoped everything began and ended with Archer. The only positive aspect was that Selim probably knew who the backer was.

"Archer's not the financial backer. He's just one part of a very well-oiled machine," Selim informed them with a frown. He seemed to be contemplating something before saying, "I guess you could say he was ultimately the architect behind the plan, though."

"What plan?" Roy demanded of the boy. Now they were getting to the meat of the matter. "Tell me about it."

"It started about six months ago," Selim began. Mustang's eyes narrowed, noticing the intense fear actually present in the boy's eyes. Fear was too strange a thing to see in a Bradley. "The leftovers of Homunculus Corp started planning something. I can only assume that Archer was behind it, considering that he was the one giving all the orders."

"Are you saying you don't even know who's in charge?" Havoc asked incredulously.

"Yes, I do…sort of…but this whole thing's sort of complicated. All of our jobs were compartmentalized. We had next to no idea what anyone else was doing until we did it. They were careful that way. Besides, I wasn't very important to them, so they wouldn't tell me much. It was mostly just 'Hey, kid!' or 'Fetch me a coffee!'"

"Allow me to extend my most insincere sympathies for your suffering," Roy said mockingly. "Go on."

"Right…So, six months…they started seizing Homunculus offices and a lot of the operations moved down south."

"Where Archer was…" Hawkeye stated worriedly. "This plan seems exceedingly well thought out. It's no wonder we haven't been able to catch a break all this time. So, what was your role exactly?"

"At the time, they said I'd be 'sending a message', but I had no idea what that meant," Selim continued. "It was only about two weeks ago that they told me I'd be sending text messages to Edward Elric. I was also supposed to observe and follow him so that I could time everything perfectly."

"Wait…are you saying that you're the real killer?" Breda asked, peering out the door's peephole. His arms were folded and his whole stance was surly. "We thought Psiren was behind that."

"I never killed anyone!" Selim suddenly protested, straining at his bonds. "I only sent texts and did some other jobs, but I never wanted to deliberately hurt someone. Besides, even Psiren was just used as a patsy."

"Obviously," Roy snorted with disdain. "She died."

"Yeah, but she only killed Majahal Williams and Comanche. Gardner, I assume you've figured out it was Gardner, was tortured and killed by Archer. As for Cohen, I don't know who took him out. I learned most of this stuff after the fact, anyway."

"Comanche and Gardner, why did they die?"

"Comanche was an old comrade. He knew lots of little things that could have destroyed us. In fact, he had figured out who the financial backer was. Archer was worried he'd do something stupid so he had him followed and used it to his advantage. He ended up having Psiren kill him just so you would focus on her and be blind to everything else. Gardner was a go-between, a figurehead. Archer made sure to have him arrested for associating with Homunculus and then paid his bail. I think he wanted it to look like this whole thing was done on Gardner's order, or at least make him a strong suspect."

"Why did Archer want us to be blind? What to?" Mustang asked, readily absorbing the information.

"Everything else," Selim answered simply. "We figured that with Edward's life on the line, you'd be too blind to see the bombing plot. You didn't even realize your phone was cloned until the South PD got blown up."

"Cloned, was it? You're saying that you did that?" Roy's hands were folded as he gazed at Selim.

"On the day you confronted Psiren, the goal was never to kill Edward. It was all about you," Selim said frantically, like he was worried they wouldn't understand. "I dressed as an officer. All we needed to do was separate you from Edward long enough to clone it. I stole your phone in the crowd and cloned it. Then I pulled you away from the rubble just for a chance to slip your phone back in."

"That's how Archer knew my movements, then…and I can't believe that was you…" His fingers started tapping again.

"When you called Detective Breda about questioning Bald, I knew he'd unmask me and Archer at the very least…or at least he'd confirm the connection between the two plots. I told Archer, but I never thought he'd do what he did…"

"So, Archer wanted to prevent me from putting the pieces together. That means that figuring it out would put a huge damper on his plan. But why frame Ed?"

"I don't know," was Selim's answer. Unfortunately, he was honest as far as Mustang could tell. "I only monitored your phone calls during that part of the plan. I didn't even know they were going to do that until it happened." Roy stopped tapping and clasped his hands, staring intently as Bradley's kid.

"If you knew they were going to do this, why not come to us earlier and prevent it?" he asked harshly. "You could have saved countless lives."

"They made me a promise, that they'd get my father acquitted," Selim answered. The pride for his demented father was showing through and Roy knew from that alone that his goal wasn't a lie. He would need a different question for more info.

"Then why show yourself now? Bradley's trial isn't over, so-"

"This morning made it plain that they had no intention of holding up their end of the deal." Roy thought back and his face drew itself into one of confusion. Was he talking about the president's testimony?

"Why would the president's testimony make that large of a difference?"

"Because she's the one who promised me. The president is Homunculus Corp's financial backer."

"What? !"

"The fuck?"

"No way…" His subordinates immediately expressed their disbelief or mortification at this idea. Roy was more silent, but he could feel an empty pit settle itself into his stomach. It twisted and made him feel momentarily nauseous. Selim was speaking again, though.

"She's the one who gave my father the money to start everything up. She ordered him to do these things like assassinating President Ling, but then she betrayed him at the trial this morning!" Selim was angry. Roy was less so, but he was starting to get there.

"How do we know that every word you've said isn't a lie?" Hawkeye calmly asked. Mustang tried to compose himself; leave it to Hawkeye to take things in stride.

"Right now, this is the only form of revenge I have. She betrayed my father, and I want to see that bitch burn." Mustang had composed himself just in time to see an angry shade of his villainous self flit across his face. Then the chief stood and began to pace fervently.

"You're telling me that President Dante, the most powerful person in this country, is behind a plan that involves the mass murder of hundreds of her citizens?" he asked testily, both fear and rage running simultaneously through his veins. "How the fuck do you expect me to deal with that? And what possible fucking reason would she have for doing so?"

"I don't know," Selim answered. Roy was getting really tired of receiving that as an answer. "I sat in on some of the meetings between her and Archer, but they never discussed motive, only means."

Mustang was ready to pull his hair out upon hearing that. Here he was, an interim chief with no real power, being told to square off against both an incredibly intelligent police chief and the fucking president of the nation. He had no bargaining chips; no cards to play and he had been a step behind (more like five) the entire way. How could he be expected to solve this? Roy shook his head from side to side and retreated to the corner of the abandoned kitchen. His brain was overloading.

"Sir…" Hawkeye said quietly. She was next to him now, a comforting hand on his shoulder. "This is a lead. A good one."

"I know…it just…it seems…" He stopped himself. He remembered Hawkeye saying what he was about to say just a couple of hours ago. Then he remembered Greed's old saying. Nothing is impossible. It stood to reason that this wasn't impossible, either. All that stood between it being fact or fiction was proof. Proof was something he could get. "Selim, when you called me, what was your intention?"

"To tell you everything to bring that bitch Dante down."

"Good, than are you willing to play ball with District Attorney Douglas in order to do so?"

"Turn myself in?" The thought was obviously frightening to Selim. Months of running would do that to someone. Selim's hands clenched but he nodded.

"Then I have some small advantage for the time being," Mustang told his team at large. He stepped back out into the main area and ran a hand through his hair. "You can't tell us anything more, correct?"

"I told you, my job was to-"

"Then finding out the rest is on us," Mustang said. His team stood at attention. The information had shaken them to the core, but they were still willing to move forward. "We can't let Archer know we're looking into this. You guys, for the moment, can't get involved. Not with this-"

"You can't expect us to just stand by knowing all this!" Havoc protested.

"For now, you have to. I can get off without suspicion, but the four of you can't." Havoc and Breda looked positively enraged at the very thought. Roy sighed. "Give me twenty four hours. Just twenty four to get all the info we need. Then we'll move, understood? Havoc, Breda, you need to return to work while Hawkeye and Feury are solving a murder, or rather, guarding Selim here."

"You believe me, then?" Selim asked gratefully. Roy affixed him with a look of utter disdain.

"I'm trusting you. Once I see proof, I'll consider believing you," he said bluntly. "Until then, you better make damn sure you're not lying." He left the threat at that and Selim shut his mouth. Silence pervaded the apartment for a short moment until Havoc breathed loudly.

"Well, you heard the chief. Back to work," he said before he led Breda from the apartment. The door had hardly shut when Roy put his foot in it and looked back to Hawkeye and Feury. He offered them only a nod before he swept out.

President Dante was a villain. That was what he needed to prove. He needed information to prove it, and that meant gathering said information. Information about policies, decisions, finances, elections, even her history. He had quite a few phone calls to make. Without thinking, he whipped out his burner phone and dialed an all too familiar number on his way to his car. It was answered after exactly two rings by a bubbly female voice. "You've reached Madam Christmas' Chateau. Vanessa speaking. How will you require our services tonight?"

"It's been a while, Vanessa," he said, a smirk ever-present on his face. The woman on the other end gave a delighted gasp.

"Roy, oh my gosh, it's been so long! You never call anymore!" Vanessa complained, forcing Roy to give off a chuckle. "How's Elizabeth?"

"Currently at another man's place, but I'm not too worried. Is the Madam in?"

"Yeah…" Vanessa answered with a sigh. Roy gave off another chuckle as he waited for the older woman's scratchier voice to come across.

"Been a while since you called," she barked. "Must be important."

"I'd like to think so," he said. He had reached his car and slipped inside before going onward. "I'm looking for a special, and I think you might be able to help."

"I'm listening…" the madam said, obviously intrigued.

"Anything you can get me that has the biggest fish in the country. I'm feeling rather ravenous."

"That's a tall order, but I'll see what I can do."

"Within the next twenty four hours would be best. I'm planning a dinner."

"You give me so little credit. Come to Central and I'll have it ready in twelve or less." Roy smirked. He always could rely on his aunt at times like this. "And give a call more often, Roy. The girls miss you."

Probably because I'm the only guy that doesn't salivate over them, he thought, but had no time to relay as the call ended. That gave him cause for chuckle, if only for a brief moment. Then he ceased his useless laughter to reach into his glove compartment and pull out a business card that had a cell number on the back. This was going to be one hell of a hard call to make, but one he knew he had to make if he wanted the truth. Punching in the numbers, hearing the rings and hoping he would pick up was like to torture to him. He knew it was late, but that wasn't the reason he felt his call would ultimately be rejected. He was just about to give up when there was a click, and it wasn't for the voicemail.

"Van Hohenheim speaking," came the exhausted voice of Ed's father. For a second, Roy lost his voice, but quickly found it.

"Mr. Hohenheim…it's, uh, Roy Mustang," he answered uncertainly.

"Oh, Mr. Mustang!" was the rather shocked response. Yet it wasn't angry, like he had expected. "Alphonse told me what had happened…I'm sorry you had to go through that."

"You don't hate me?" he asked suddenly, completely floored by the calmness in Hohenheim's voice.

"No…I am grieving, I suppose, but I cannot hate you. If I were in your position…well, I understand," Hohenheim chuckled out. "But what are you calling me for at this late hour?"

"I wanted to ask you a few questions…about a past relationship, as I understand it," he told the older man delicately. A muffled grunt was heard on the other end, no doubt from Hohenheim contemplating the situation.

"Is this about catching Edward's true killer?" Somehow, Roy didn't need to answer for the father to know. "I have some free time at lunch tomorrow, eleven o'clock."

"Thank you, sir." Both mutually ended the call, letting Roy sink back in his car seat in exhaustion. Tomorrow (or rather, it was already today) was going to be a long day. He figured he would have to get the rest now, even if it wasn't at home. His eyes finally closed and didn't reopen until daylight hit them. Then he picked up some coffee and once more made the trip to Central. It was so familiar, it passed in the blink of an eye.

At only ten to eleven, Roy had pulled into the University of Amestris' parking lot and began walking towards the president's building. The campus was swarming with busy students in the cold spring air. Many of them ignored his presence, though his bearing and demeanor as a police officer attracted a few odd looks. The chief ignored all of them as he flashed his badge to the secretary and entered Hohenheim's rather luxurious office. The man in question was sitting at his desk, signing papers with a sandwich sticking out of his mouth. He looked up when Roy entered.

"Chief Mustang, glad you made it. Now, what did you wish to ask me?" he asked after swallowing his sandwich. He stood and walked around his desk, and then briefly shook his hand as the door finally snapped shut behind Mustang.

"I was wondering what you could tell me about…President Dante," he said as carefully as he could. If Hohenheim was surprised, he didn't show it. He just sat down on the couch in his office and crossed his fingers. Then he laughed, loudly and boisterously, but Roy didn't think he found it to be a joke. It was a rather sad laugh after all.

"So, it's her…is it?" he mused, probably to himself. "The past always has a way of catching up with you."

"You had a history, then?" Roy asked, keeping at bay the war between elation, revulsion and fear that was roiling around inside of him.

"A history?" Hohenheim laughed out disbelievingly. "You could say that. We were lovers, you see, in college."

"Ed never knew, I'd imagine," Roy said. He finally sat on the couch opposite and leaned forward, desperate to learn more of this treacherous history.

"No…neither he nor Alphonse knew. To them, Dante was just an old acquaintance," Hohenheim said in reluctant response. He seemed almost upset and the subject at hand was making him particularly reticent. Perhaps it was a poor topic to bring up, but by this point, the chief was getting desperate for some straight answers. "I think Edward might have guessed at the truth, but our affair was mostly kept quiet."

"Tell me more, please," Roy asked quietly, hoping to wheedle out the information if he had to.

"Mr. Mustang, don't try to fool me. Do you think Dante is responsible in any way for my son's death?" The question had been unexpected but, now, Mustang was grateful that it had been asked.

"It's a possibility," he stated as truthfully as he could. Hohenheim sighed at the answer and removed his glasses.

"I'll tell you everything I can, then," he said coldly. Roy almost shivered from the icy tone. "Dante and I met in college when we were both Political Science majors. We both had ambition, and at the time I was attracted to that. We started dating secretly and by sophomore year we were regularly having sex. Not one of my finer points in life. By junior year, though, I wasn't entirely happy. Dante was…overzealous in her pursuit of power. What used to be intriguing political and philosophical debates became shouting matches. What was once tender, loving sex became a romp in the sheets when she needed to vent her frustrations."

"Sounds like a match made in heaven," Roy joked, hoping to ease some of the tension in the room.

"I got sick of it. It was a glimpse to her darker side that I could do without," Hohenheim spat angrily. "By second semester of our senior year, I broke it off. I can't say she took it very happily. As you can see, she never married. I'm not sure she ever got over me, but I was definitely over her. We were moving in different directions and I wasn't willing to go there with her. We eventually made up, but it was a rough few years."

"Years?" Roy asked in surprise at the span of time. He had expected weeks, maybe months, but years?

"Yes. I met Trisha shortly after graduating when she was a freshman. We dated a year or two, but I was deeply in love with her in a way that I never felt with Dante. I only made up with Dante because the two of us married and had Edward." Hohenheim snapped his glasses back on and stared intently at Roy. Roy stared back unflinchingly.

"Understand this about Dante: she was very much a woman scorned, but more than that, she was ambitious. She considered everyone and anyone beneath her in her quest for power. I had thought middle age would humble her, but I think that was me just rationalizing her faults. She never forgives or forgets. She'd hold a grudge to the end of time if it'd help her. Moreover, she's like a poison that you don't even realize is in your system until it's too late. I would advise you not to underestimate her if she was involved with my son's death."

"That's the second person I've been told not to underestimate this week," Roy said. Hohenheim nodded in agreement.

"Must be sound advice then," he said with a wry smile. "Just be careful."

"Yeah…thanks for telling me all this. I think I have a better idea of who I'm up against, now." Roy stood and shook Hohenheim's hand once more before he headed for the door. He paused at its exit. "I'm sorry for what happened to Ed."

"I know…That's why you'll catch who really killed him, right? Even if it is Dante."

"Of course," he promised. Then he left the office and Hohenheim sitting on the couch, making his way back out of the building. He was met with an unpleasantly unexpected sight on the stairs out: Alphonse was walking up them. He noticed Roy, too, and stopped.

"Mr. Mustang," he said with a perfunctory nod. Clasped in his hands was a file folder that he gripped tightly to his side.

"Alphonse, I didn't think you'd be in Central," he said tentatively. He was already walking on eggshells with the family, and he wasn't in the mood to upset that balance any more. "Going to see your father, I suppose."

"Yes," he answered curtly. "I'm in Central for the next few days to get our project's research off the ground. Jerso and Zampano seem to be having some trouble with it."

"And how's Winry?" It was probably a question he shouldn't have asked, but he wanted the answer all the same.

"As well as she can be. The baby's due soon, but she almost went into early labor," Al said with just a touch of icy coldness. Roy frowned. "Well, excuse me; I have a meeting with my father. If there's anything you need, I'll be staying at the Central Gardens Hotel." Despite finding it strange that Al would offer his services like that, Roy let him pass without a word and continued making his way back to his own car.

The parking lot was just as packed as when he arrived, but he thankfully remembered where he parked. Even with many of the students milling around to reach their cars, he easily weaved through them. It struck him that the main branch of the University of Amestris was truly an eclectic place. There were students dressed in t-shirts and jeans, some were dressed for a party and others were sharply dressed. Roy even noticed two older men in suits smoking away as he got into his car. He would have loved to stick around and observe, but he had somewhere else to be.

Madam Christmas' Chateau was located in a decidedly large alleyway off of Central's Main Street. Home to the best drinks that you'd find in Central, and likely the best women as well, Madam Christmas (or Aunt Chris as Roy knew her) had been collecting information on the most powerful people in Amestris for close to thirty years. After all, sometimes people couldn't control their vices. Roy, naturally, had known about the business since his childhood, but the information his aunt garnered was often far too valuable, and he consistently turned a blind eye. Besides, it wasn't like he worked in Central, and Madam Christmas never used her information for blackmail.

It was under these thoughts that Roy parked his car on the street an entered the alleyway to the dimly lit chateau. It was surprisingly bustling, mostly with the women who worked there. All of them saw him and greeted him with the widest smiles imaginable. Roy greeted them all with hugs in turn. These girls were practically his sisters, after all.

"She's in the back, Roy," said the only girl that hadn't approached him yet. She wore a form fitting green dress that showed off her ample cleavage with a lovely string of pearls accenting it. Her long blonde hair fell down her shoulders in elegant tresses. This was Vanessa, likely Roy's favorite little sister. He gave her a kiss on the cheek as thanks before he went to the back.

"'Bout time you got here," grunted Madam Christmas, a cigarette in one hand and a drink in another. She had hardly changed in the seven months since he'd seen her last except for, perhaps, more wrinkles. "Vanessa reeled your fish in."

"Did she?" he said, sitting down and grabbing the envelope offered. There were various financial and campaign reports. As he looked, Madam Christmas was talking.

"I thought you'd lost your mind when you asked me to look into it, but damn if the reports don't speak for themselves," she said. "The president's one tricky bitch. She always used her own money to fund her campaigns. Of course, she has supporters and fundraisers, but a bulk of it has been her own cash going in. Kept increasing it, too, until it suddenly dropped…seven months ago. She was also behind half the policies that gave Bradley more and more power. I guess you're not as crazy as I thought."

Roy was grateful to find that out. The documents sitting in his hands were proof of that, at long last. It made him furious inside, exhibited by his crumpling of the paper. He had been so wrong, so blind. He had wanted to believe it was all over when this whole time, the most powerful person in the country was the one pulling the strings. Dante was the one who truly formed Homunculus Corporation, had led to the Ishval Bombing…had killed Hughes. Her selfish plots had led to Ed's death and the death of countless others. "That bitch…"

"You can keep those documents, by the way. I have copies," Madam Christmas said with a swig of her drink.

"Thanks," he said back distractedly. These were powerful documents, but not something that should be sitting around in his pocket. Instead, he snapped his lighter out and set fire to the pages. Madam Christmas just gave a shrug and went back to smoking. "I'll see you around."

"Call more often," she barked before he was gone. His head was lost in his own thoughts. There had to be a way to stop all of this, but he had no idea where to start. In the end, though, he knew there was only one place to begin: Archer. He was the cornerstone to this plan in every way. Roy knew he'd have to return to East City and take Archer down. Selim Bradley was his ace in the hole.

"See ya, Roy. Say hi to Elizabeth for me!" Vanessa called. He offered a short wave as he left the bar and nearly ran into someone. It was the guys in black suits that he'd seen at the University. His hand instantly reached for his gun.

"Roy Mustang?" said the taller one. He looked thickset with bulging muscles and a bald head to complement it. "You need to come with us."

"Under whose authority?" he asked, his hand now clasped around his gun.

"No questions, please," the bald man answered in response. Mustang was about to finally whip his gun out when the other man brought him into a sudden chokehold. Roy struggled against it, but in so doing, ignored the bald man who brought a taser to his chest. It took only seconds for Roy to pass out into inky blackness.

It wasn't a pleasant feeling, being knocked out, because he had no dreams or awareness of where he was. That went doubly so for when he awoke in the back of a vehicle. The windows were closed and tinted and he was all alone. His gun was gone, too. He didn't know who these people were, but he sure was glad that he'd burned those documents. Roy's head was throbbing as he felt the vehicle pull to a stop. The door opened seconds later and large beefy hands reached inside to pull him out. There was no surprise that it was Baldy and Strangle Man.

Roy finally had an idea as to his surroundings. They were in a garage with some clearly fancy cars. Whoever lived here was very obviously rich. His two assailants grabbed him by the arms and dragged him along, his legs working to keep up as they entered an elevator. It was when they stepped out that Roy felt his heart drop out, because he had a very good idea of where he was. Judging from the pictures on the wall, the other men in black suits, and the décor of the country of Amestris, Roy knew he was at the Presidential Estate. That was not good. Baldy and Strangle Man continued to drag him along to a double wood door as the end of the hall, one of its doors wide open. Above the door was the flag of the country and Roy's eyes widened.

It was a dragon.

How? How could he have been so stupid? How could he have not realized the truth that was staring him in the face since day one of this case? You poked a sleeping dragon, and it woke up. He had pondered those words over and over and all it took was one look at Amestris' flag to see the truth. Dante was the dragon, and when they caught Bradley, she realized how close they were to her and set her sights on them. There was no more time to contemplate this as the door was fast approaching and voices could be heard distinctly from within.

"He'll be joining us soon," said a rather unfamiliar voice, though it did nag at the back of Mustang's mind.

"Thanks for telling me," mocked a different voice. Roy's brain locked down upon hearing it. It couldn't be…it was impossible. There was no way he could be hearing that voice from that room. His eyes narrowed as he knew he'd find out soon when his escort shoved him into the room. He whipped around and saw the source of the all-too familiar voice sitting there with a little smirk on his lips. Nothing is impossible. Edward Elric waved at Roy Mustang upon seeing him, and all he said was, "Hey, there, Mustang, long time, no see. So, let's hit these plot points in order, shall we?"

Author's Note: I said I had always planned on killing Ed. I never said I didn't plan on bringing him back. That said, this was a huge chapter with lots of revelations. Next chapter's even more so. A few of you saw Dante's role coming, though it's not like I hid it…I think. Well, what do you think? Not many people shared their thoughts with me last chapter, so I hope there'll be an improvement of that this chapter. Well, until next time, Review and Dare to Be Silly.