EDWARD
"Aha, checkmate!" I yelled, smacking down the rook into the appropriate space to kick Roy's ass.
Looking up at the man, I frowned. The game had been halfhearted attempts at best, as Roy had found himself bogged down with paperwork to fill out and read. Mostly fill out. The attack on East Command still came through him and his office, and with him being a General now he had so much more people to watch over. He had his own brigade of Colonels now.
"Huh, you're getting better." The words were mumbled, and he didn't even look up at me.
Frowning, I got to my feet, unable to feel the cool wood floor of his den. Clunking to the hallway, I stopped to glance back over my shoulder. Roy had a pair of reading glasses on his nose, temporary he said, and one hand buried into the long black hair. He hadn't even taken his uniform off yet and it was well past seven. Supper hadn't even been considered, and with the way he had slouched into his chair I doubted it would be anytime soon.
The chess board was a mess of black pieces, only one or two white spots breaking through. And oddly, I felt worse for seeing it. It was stupid, stupid to feel bad about beating the bastard. A victory was a victory, right?
Alphonse was in the library, and I was starving. And after looking over at Roy, I figured he was too overworked to worry about cooking anything. Which sucked major ass because Roy could make the greatest things.
I really wanted stir-fry tonight, but with him looking like that…
I wondered into the kitchen, dragging my flesh fingers over the counter and cupboards, humming and muttering to myself. It wouldn't be that hard to make something, Roy always made it look so easy. Just cut some vegetables up and throw them in a pan with some of those dried leave things. Easy!
And it'll help him out won't it? If I made supper instead of waiting to be feed. Yes, equivalent exchange and all that.
Huh…now where was the cutting board?
Going through motions that seemed to be second nature to the older male, I began to fetch items I thought I'd need. Maybe I should call Al down, he's always been so much better at these sort of things.
Nah, he was studying, and I felt bad when I dragged Al into things he couldn't experience.
Two weeks. Two weeks of adjusting to new automail and a new life. Two weeks of wasted time when I could be studying. I was torn between blaming Mustang for this or for thanking him for putting himself out on a limb.
Dr. Price would be visiting next week to insure the two of them were in full working order, but with his new leg still sore and at times giving out at the worst times, I wouldn't be returning to the military at any time soon.
Price…where the hell have I heard that name before? Scratching the back of my head, I scowled unhappily at the assorted foods. 'It shouldn't be that hard. Price…come on! I've heard it before! It seems important for some reason. Price…'
"Sorry boss, but we need to get moving. If we keep Price waiting, she'll have our heads and use us in the experiment instead."
"Fuck…" I forgot!
Throwing down the tomato that I had been cutting, I ran back to the den at top speed, hitting the closed door with a painful thud. Instead of it swinging open like the office door would have, this door had not been broken in and I rebounded rather painfully off the solid wood and hit the opposite wall. "Ow…"
Dizzy, I tried to sit up. Stupid, of course the door was closed. Running into the door was just great. Blinking rapidly to clear my vision of the swirling hallway before reaching up carefully to feel my forehead then trailing back to tenderly probe the back of my head. No blood at least, but a big knot on each side of my head hurt like hell.
I didn't really register the foot steps coming from the other room, as they were muffled from both the pain in my head and the thick wood I had just bounced off of. But the door smacking between my eyes registered.
Oh fuck did it registered.
"Fucking shit goddamnit!" I screeched, throwing myself backward away from any swinging doors and back into a wall, smacking my head yet again! "What the hell you son of bitch!"
"Ed!" an exasperated shout of concern came from somewhere overhead and I wanted so much to shut him up. Yelling from anyone was now a very big no no for my head splitting headache.
"Shhh…" I hissed back, cradling my head with my flesh arm, clutching my eyes shut to block out the cursed light. "Stop talking…"
Gentle fingers pried my death grip loose and helped me stand, pulling me to my feet and back down the hall. "Here, sit down." We must have went into the kitchen because he had sat me down at one of the bar stools. "What's all this…were you trying to make something?" A clutter of utensils and a drawer being opened and the freezer slapping open and shut. Then a cool wash cloth moved across my forehead. "There, did you hit the back of your head too?" I nodded slowly and heard a breathy sigh. "Next time please do not hit the door so hard."
"Shut up." I growled weakly, wondering why on earth I had wanted to run that fast in the first place. Something important I think…
"Roy! I have to tell you—OW!!" I snapped my head up to talk, only to regret when fresh waves of pain erupted.
"Yes, tell me later. Shit Ed, you left the stove on!" Roy clattered away, making my ears thrum, and then walked back with less force. "I'm sorry, I got caught up in work. I'll order something in a few minutes. Anything special you want?"
"No. But first—"
"In a second, just sit there and try not to spaz out again alright?"
"I don't spaz out." I muttered, listening to him leave the kitchen to return to the den to order dinner. I hadn't thought about ordering anything…that would be easier and I wouldn't have to clean up.
Safer too.
"Now, I ordered some pizza, I hope you don't mind. Does your head feel any better?" Another hand moved across my check, tipping my head backward to examine my forehead. By now I was sure that it along with the flesh beneath my eyes would be a solid black blue swollen mess. I had hit my head hard consecutively. I might be a genius but a lucky bastard I was not.
"Your eyes aren't dilated, and I don't see any blood. But to be sure I think I'll call Dr. Price tomorrow and see what she has to say." Roy had a frown of concern on his face, crinkling his eyebrows and the edges of his dark navy blue eyes. Not quiet the black I had thought them to be…it must be from him being so close. I could nearly taste his warm breath on my lips. He had strawberries earlier, and didn't share any. Bastard…
Wait. Price. "No! Don't call her!"
His frown deepened, nearly collapsing his forehead into sliding his eyebrows down his nose. "I don't care if you want to see the doctor or not Edward, I'm calling her."
"No, what I'm saying is I heard her name before! When I was stuck underneath the rubble of East Headquarters. There were these guys and they were stealing shit and I was really lucky they didn't see me. I heard a few names but I didn't see anybody but I think they were stealing files. What sort of files are kept all the way down there and not in the East Library Archives? I didn't remember much from then but I could recognize them by their names I think. They were talking alchemy and I think it had to do with human transmutation and—"
A finger to my lips cut me off and I realized I was rambling on one breath. Panting slightly, I watched Roy as he went to say something and stopped when a knock at the door sounded. By the rapid harsh knocking this had to be the third or forth time it had happened.
"I'll get it. You sit and think about that for just a second. Then your telling me everything you remember, got it?" Roy left without another word, arms and shoulders tense enough to make the tendons in the back of his neck stand out.
…
"And that's it? A Juko, Price, and Smith? And you're not sure what they took, just 'files'?" Mustang had written down the entire conversation as I recalled it down into a yellow notepad beside his plate, one hand occupied with a wedge of pizza. "And Price is the ringleader…"
"Yeah, sorry. It's just been hectic and with my pain killers I couldn't really put two thoughts together most of the time." I said, wiping my fingers across the napkin that Roy had thrust in my face along with my plate half a pizza ago.
"Do you think it's the same Price?"
"Really? I never got a good read off of her."
"Huh, I did. She's…off. Not like Bradley or Sloth, but off. She's pretending, hiding something."
"Most of the people are hiding something. Its just a game of finding out what and how big. You're forgetting our own secrets."
"No, this isn't like ours. This is…darker. More intentional. Something that homunculi would have a hand in if they were still alive. (Coming into AU. I'm not going to deal with the homunculi but I will mention them. Bradley's dead, so the Fuehrer is different. That's all for now! I'll try to stick to the story though.) I should have a file on her somewhere…" He started ruffling through stacks of files, pulling two out. One he threw in front of me and the other he kept. His was smaller.
Opening it, I found a list of items destroyed, lost, or both after the attack. Another list of the attacking force. Over a hundred and fifty dead or captured, another twenty unknown. A few dozen tanks and heavily armored gun trucks. "What am I supposed to be looking for?" Idiots, the lot of them. Most of the listed items had to do with weapons or human loss. Except for this bit here… "Who was the Night Alchemist?"
"Him? I haven't heard his name since I was in the Academy. And by then he was already dead." Roy said, his dark blue eyes scanning the page in his hands restlessly without sparing a moment from the written words. But whatever he searched for was not easily forthcoming and he flopped the first page down to the table to read the next. "There might be a book on him in the library. Why?"
"The mission files and most of his research files were stolen. Or destroyed." I tapped a finger to my chin, careful of the still soreness and twinges of pain that sprouted from each touch. "What happens to the destroyed files?"
"If we are sure they're destroyed, nothing. A file made up of them being destroyed most likely. More paperwork."
"And right now missing or destroyed files wouldn't be a top priority would they? Not unless it had to do with a military secret or cover up."
"The Night Alchemist was something of a military cover up. More to cover up the fact that he was certifiably insane. But beyond that, it's been too long to think of anything to do with the man. One of the teachers used him as an example of 'what not to do'." Another page flop.
"If you wanted to hide something, what would you do with it?"
"Put it someplace no one can find it." A sigh. "Does this conversation have a point or are you just trying to find out where the sugar cookies are hidden?"
"And if you could convince the searchers there wasn't anything to look for? If whatever was missing wasn't missing at all? It just…didn't exist anymore?"
"Where are you going with this? Are we talking about cookies or files?"
"I didn't bring up the damned cookies! Stop mentioning them!" I snapped, tempted to throw the fucking paperwork into his smirking face. I can not believe I actually missed the damned thing. "If you thought the files were gone, didn't exist, then if someone stole them you wouldn't even know they were missing! A perfect crime!"
"I think you've been reading too many mysteries."
"No, listen. Price or whoever wanted something. They wanted information for the experiments that kept failing. By the way they were talking, it sounded like human transmutation. If this Night Alchemist is a crackpot, that could just be another cover up by the way, how the hell did he even get to be a State Alchemist? Huh? He must have had some brains."
"What if the attack was orchestrated by something bigger than some little rebellious upstart?!"
Roy's eyes grew, and I realized belatedly I had shoved myself away from the table. My chair had fallen behind me, my fingers clenching the table hard enough to crush it beneath metal metacarpals. I had started yelling like I would when I got in an alchemic debate with Al.
I hadn't realized I had tossed the file onto the table, scattering pages across the dark wood. Mixing one file with the other. Like my life had mixed up with Mustang's. With the military. I couldn't tell them apart.
Crap. I was making stupid metaphors and shit.
Snorting, I grabbed another chair and dropped into it. The one on the floor would have to be fixed before anyone could even think of sitting in it.
Using just my fingertips I began moving the thrown papers about.
Angela Price.
Grant Thornton Price, 'The Night Alchemist'.
Well, I didn't see that one coming.