When I was just a baby, my mama told me, "Son,

Always be a good boy; don't ever play with guns."

But I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die.

When I hear that whistle blowin' I hang my head and cry.

Johnny Cash, "Folsom Prison Blues"

Being a State Alchemist entrance exam marker isn't that bad as Ed has found out in the last week. She gets to spend her time scribbling odd comments like Come back when you've actually learned basic alchemy and Improve your arrays and You call this a transmutation circle? in bright red ink, something that she has specially taken to after Mustang told her that the applicants won't be getting those back. Sometimes, she doodles on the scripts (very theraputic), little pictures of her, Al and Winry standing together, fuzzy clouds on top of their heads and stick-like grass at their feet.

Mustang looks at these drawings sometimes. The first time he did, he blinked and lifted an eyebrow. "I don't think you should be doing that, Fullmetal," he pointed out.

"Why not?" she looked him in the eye, putting the final touches on a little drawing of Winry punching Al (why had she done that?). "You said they weren't going to get these back."

"Yes, but it's one thing to write harsh comments, and another to draw pictures on exam scripts."

"Okay." She nodded and put away her pen. "Is anyone else going to see these?"

"Probably not. But that still doesn't mean that you can use them as a canvas."

Ed liked how that sounded and so that's what she's taken to. The next couple of times she did, Mustang just gave her a disapproving look. What a pansy. She takes these looks in stride and brings some colored pens with her just to piss him off. It is her revenge for making her do this boring job in the first place. Seriously, she should gallopping across Amestris to Xing to the ends of the earth for any trace of the legendary artefact so that they can get back what they lost. Instead, she is stuck in a room with stupid, stupid Mustang, grading papers like some schoolteacher. She always hated her old teacher back at Risembool. The old hag always gave her a C- in art class, probably because she had more talent than the teacher. Well, look whose doodles are cooler now, she thinks as she sits back and admires a little drawing of Al flexing his metal arms in the sun.

Luckily for them, Al is busy doing research these days and one day, they meet at the cafeteria during their (her) lunch hour. From the corner of her eye, she notices Mustang sitting at the corner all alone. Well, that's strange, she muses. He usually goes out to eat.

"Okay, Al, so what've you got for me?" she turns back to her brother, who has placed a stack of neatly-written research notes in front of her.

"I found this amazing book on the history of the quest of the Philosophers's Stone," he says in a hushed tone and Ed leans in closer to listen. "We already know from Dr. Marco that human lives in large numbers are required to forge a Stone. Not to mention how many people perished in their search for it. Cities vanished overnight apparently, just because they'd finally found it."

"Or it found them," she says darkly.

"Right. I went through this book and found something really fascinating. The last city Xerxes, that was rumored to have found the Stone, vanished about a hundred-and-fifty years ago. It's five-hundred miles away from Central. We could go there, Sister, and search for any clues about how they found it and why they disappeared like that."

Ed skims through the pages of notes, facts, dates, neatly coped, taking everything in like lightning. "Why didn't you check the book out?" she asks, quickly turning a page. It embarrasses her that when they should be doing this together, he is researching alone and she is doodling on exam scripts that she doesn't give a rat's ass about.

"The book was only for reference," answers Al. "But you could see it for yourself when you get off work," he adds brightly, making her realize how little time they've spent together as of late.

"I'll talk to Mustang about this," she makes up her mind, this time looking directly at the Colonel, who now has a beautiful soldier opposite him, tossing her red hair and laughing at all his probably-lame jokes. (Now why did she think that he'd be alone at lunch?) He probably has another girl he'll go home with tonight since he does seem to change his girlfriends as often as he changes his clothes. The girl he's taking home tonight probably has lustrous brown hair kissed with red highlights (Becca from the secretary pool - Ed secretly supposes that her commanding officer has slept with half the women there - who's had her eye on him for months as though he were a diamond, for like what, five months now? Ed's had a longer relationship with the cats that Al sneaks in and she has never even seen them. Except for maybe one or two, but that's because he was doing a lousy job of hiding them).

Her eyes grow larger and then she gives herself a mental kick. Has she observed Mustang's dating habits for so long that she can now deduce who he'll be taking home tonight? For someone who's been checking dozens and dozens of scripts lately, she's sure had a lot free time on her hands.

She distantly hears Al say something that sounds like a question, and without thinking, she simply answers, "Uh-huh."

"Sister!" Al reproaches, startling her.

"What?" she is confused.

"I just told you that I don't think Winry's happy with me," Al "scowls" and Ed flushes.

"Huh? That's just silly, Al. She adores you. Why else would she go out with you?" she is genuinely confused by her brother's insecure confession.

"She ran into that guy from Rush Valley again yesterday," the younger Elric elaborates, looking crestfallen. "She looked really happy to see him."

"Well, Winry's a very friendly girl." She senses herself going one step further with the guilt trip. Crap.

"What do I do about it?" he asks, puzzled. "I know they went out a couple times in the past...and she brightened up when she saw him. I mean, he can touch her, feel her skin." While I can't remains hanging in the air.

Ed doesn't know what to say to that. Her mind is as blank as a white page. Her worst nightmare is slowly coming to life, for Al has never openly regretted not having his body (this is as open as he'll get). He has always been gracious and optimistic. Until now. And pretty soon, he will start to hate her, just like she's always feared.

"Not doodling anymore?" Mustang asks as he looks over Ed's desk.

"No," she answers absently. "I'm done with these, though."

He sifts through the scripts with an inspector's air. Interestingly, not only are there no doodles, but there are also no harsh remarks.

"Too bad," he comments drily. "You were getting pretty good at it."

Ed is completely taken aback. Yup, that's Mustang with his snide remarks and backhanded compliments. She swallows a rude comeback as she really needs to kiss some butt now.

Mustang shrugs and returns to his own desk; it appears that he is in a good mood, probably because just on his way in, he smiled at Becca and complimented the red highlights on her hair before asking her out to dinner. Now, Becca has no reason to cast her resentful looks showing how lucky she is to be spending such long hours in close proximity with the Colonel. Ed would love to switch places any day.

She quickly gets up and goes to his desk. He looks up at her expectantly, knowing that she will ask him for something.

They really have been spending too much time together in close quarters.

"I need to ask you for something," she announces, trying not to be nervous. Why would she have a reason to be nervous with those obsidian eyes boring into her like water seeping into a sponge?

"Actually," he says as he sits up, "there's something I wanted to talk to you about, Fullmetal. There's going to be a party -"

"I'm not going as your date," she blurts out irritably. And then, realizing what she's said, she pales and bites her tongue.

He blinks. And narrows his eyes. "I wasn't about to ask you," he answers icily, sending a chill down her spine. "What ever gave you that idea?"

Way to go, Ed! You've ruined your only chance of getting him to send you out on a mission. Say something, you idiot! But again, her mind is as blank as a...very blank thing.

"Um - " she begins.

"Never mind," he interrupts to save them both from further embarrassment. May the Power That Be bless him for this small act of kindness that she will show her gratitude for. As soon as she gets back her other two human limbs and delivers a right-handed punch on his ugly face. Wait, maybe she should do that with the automail.

"As I was saying," he continues, black gaze holding hers. "Since we're just about done with checking the scripts, we will soon be ready to announce the results. Then comes the psychological. And the practical."

"Yeah, I know, I'm a State Alchemist, too," she quips, unimpressed. "What does it have to do with a party?"

"The orientation this year will be quite a celebration," Mustang replies, "we all need to be there."

Ed narrows her eyes. "There was no such celebration when I became a State Alchemist," she accuses venomously.

"There's no point in having one when you're only going to take one or two. But this year, I'm told that the military will be accepting about ten to twelve alchemists. And the increase in taxes..."

"You mean we're paying taxes so that the goddamn military can have some party?"

"You don't pay taxes, Edward," he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Anyway, you just need to be there. That's it."

"I guess I could do that," Ed answers after a moment's thought; she is rather curious to see what a military party would be like.

"Now what is it that you wanted to ask me?"

She takes a deep breath. How is she going to phrase it all in her head, when she lets out the words? She isn't used to asking favors from anyone, especially not this fuckface (missions don't really count as favors, do they?) and in light of her recentmost conduct (actually, that incident at Drachma is getting kind of old). But she has to throw away her pride like a stained skirt for Al's sake because that's more important than the Colonel's triumphant smirk.

"Fullmetal?" Mustang inquires when she remains silent. "What did you want to say to me?"

"Al's been doing some research," she then proceeds to explain his findings to the Colonel in detail. He listens to her intently, nodding, even looking interested (what the hell is he playing at?). He seems to be analyzing all the information that she's giving him, trying to put them together. When she is done, she holds her breath and waits for the Colonel to start a long lecture on how much of the military's budget she is wasting on these "wild goose chases" (once, she retorted that geese have nothing to do with the Philosopher's Stone).

It never comes.

Mustang simply shrugs and concedes. "All right. But you can go after we're done with the exams." He goes back to his paperwork.

She blinks. "Th-that's it?"

He looks up at her. "Yes."

"So...you're not going to lecture me or anything?"

"I don't have the time to. But it's good that you remember everything I say."

"Like I have a choice," groans Ed. "You drill it in everytime you send me on a mission."

"Drilling is an essential part of a soldier's career."

"Yeah, I get that."

He gives her a look that clearly spells whatever and they both return to their work.

There are many things that Ed does not know about Roy. For example, she has no idea that oftentimes, he has nightmares of Scar and Ishbal, which make him toss and turn throughout the night as images of dying children hit him with the power of a bulldozer. So he comes to his office to get some shuteye. She doesn't really know that he blames himself for Hughes' death, would give almost anything, even listen to the other man's stories about Elysia and look at endless tirades of photos, to have him back. And also, Roy used to harbor a secret crush on Hawkeye, but decided to forget about it when she openly stated that she preferred shooting to playing chess (strong woman, that Hawkeye).

Ed can't help thinking that every woman seen with the Colonel is attached to him. While that isn't entirely untrue, the woman he had lunch with today isn't attracted to him. It's just her habit to flip back her hair. Nothing personal. And she's been Roy's source on all leads to the Philosopher's Stone.

That afternoon, Sergeant Anderton, as the woman was called, showed up with a few reports about the Stone.

"There are other people after it, Mustang," she warned him, flipping back her hair.

He nodded absently. "I had the feeling. How did you know?"

She paused to see if anyone was watching, or listening. So far, it just looked like Colonel Mustang was flirting with another one of the women soldiers, when he was actually watching his blonde subordinate from the corner of his eye.

The Sergeant stealthily slipped him a few reports, which he quickly took. "There are enemies from Drachma who have come to believe in the Stone's power, and will stop at nothing to get to it," she whispered impatiently. "It's all in there."

He grunted an understanding. She lifted an eyebrow and then followed his gaze to where a short, golden-haired girl was sitting with a giant suit of armor.

She examined the girl from afar, and then turned back to him. "That's Fullmetal?" she asked inquisitively.

"Yes," he was looking at the girl directly now. Thankfully, no one else had noticed this.

The woman carefully looked from Mustang to Edward. And then a look of understanding came over her.

"You have a thing for her, don't you?"

"What?" he stuttered in disbelief, black eyes bulging with shock as he whipped back to see Anderton's eyes twinkle with merriment. He colored. It wasn't a question. It was a statement.

And a goddamn scary one, too.

"That's a ridiculous thing to say, Anderton," he scoffed. "Fullmetal is my subordinate, and fourteen years my junior. She's practically old enough to be my daughter." He looked scandalized by the woman's accusation.

She didn't seem to believe him. "No offence, Mustang, but I don't think your father was fourteen when you were born."

"I do not have inappropriate feelings for Fullmetal," he said firmly.

"Woah, who said anything about inappropriateness?" she threw up her hands in mock surrender. "It's only natural that a man feel this way for a woman. And if you don't see her like that, then why are you so flustered? Besides," she dropped her voice, "I'm told Brigadier-General Byatt has taken a lover half her age - a charming young man from the Briggs - "

"That's enough!" Mustang hissed, turning as red as a tomato. "I do not see Fullmetal as anyone other than my underage subordinate, and I most certainly do not want to take her as my wife - "

"Wife, eh, Mustang? I only said 'lover'." The woman was starting to get under his nerves and he clenched his jaw. She shrugged, a fluid movement.

"Your loss," she told him straightforwardly. "You need to loosen up, Roy. There's no need to be ashamed of how you feel..."

"I'm not ashamed," he snapped, eyes fiering up, "because I feel nothing!"

"Whatever. Okay, look, I gotta get going now. Lunch break's almost over."

Roy hated to think of it that way but Anderton was worse than Hughes.

Back in his flat, he goes through the reports. A giant troop of bounty hunters are making their own search for the Stone. There is proof that these hunters are from Drachma, trying to get back at Amestris because they lost the war. So, it really is true. Bloodshed leads to bloodshed.

Now he knows. It was his mother first, then Ishbal, and then Hughes, like an endless cycle of war, and if he isn't careful, it'll soon be Edward.

Somehow, for reasons he doesn't care to admit, he isn't willing to let that happen.

A/N: Please review.