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Board of Squares
Chapter Ten
Hundred Pound Dog
- mirage–
Celebration of Ed's released from custody took place at Hawkeye's favorite cafe the evening of his appeal, and the small shop was packed.
Decorated for the season, autumn colors, paper leaves, and fat orange pumpkins littered the coffee beans, beverage merchandise, and pastry display cases. A seasonal ambiance cluttered the tiny shop of few tables, and left Roy struggling to find an empty one of suitable size. His team had, in an unspoken but communal way, disagreed long ago with his indecisive and disorganized manner of group-ordering, and reduced him to table-detail the way the office reduced Havoc to lunch-fetcher.
In the crowded shop, with employees shouting ingredients and running blenders, Roy regrettably assumed the only vacant table seating four, and watched the counter where his lot was parading about.
Bundled to the hilt and nearly face to the glass drooling over the displayed confectionary products, Alphonse was at Ed's side. The boy had buttoned his coat and secured a scarf, and looked to be prattling with Ed oblivious. Havoc was ordering for the brothers, and growing frustrated with Ed's inability to select a bag of chocolate covered coffee beans. From his seat at the table, Roy watched Havoc sent dramatic points toward several options, while Ed stood frowning with concentration.
Roy heard Havoc's quick, "Who cares?" and then, "That one looks fine too!" impatient and dodging glances at Hawkeye, as if she might assist, because she stood between them with her calm gaze reading the blackboard menu behind the counter, but she did not.
Was unaware Ed sought Alphonse's opinion on the coffee beans, and that the implication of further delay led Breda to miserably open the bag he intended to purchase and begin eating in line.
"Hey, have either of you had the cinnamon pumpkin white chocolate chai latte?" Hawkeye asked, gracefully interrupting every conversation around her by ignoring them. "It sounds really good. I might get that."
Alphonse was reading ingredients labels, no one answered her, and Roy turned his attention to the shop door.
Propped open with a blackboard street sign listing daily specials, it welcomed the sounds of the sidewalk strollers and cars. From the corner intersection Roy could hear Major Armstrong approaching before the man was in sight, and he waited expectantly before lifting an arm when the man tried to squeeze through the shop door with the discretion of a bear.
"Colonel!" Armstrong called, approaching with Sheska, out of uniform, and looking younger still with a colorful autumn scarf. She entered waiving enthusiastically, and just as enthusiastically ran ahead to the counter because Colonel Roy Mustang was boring and sometimes rude.
Armstrong navigated the small coffee tables like a bull in a china shop and stopped at Roy's side with a kind, "How is everything?"
The question was asking: How is your wrongfully imprisoned subordinate, just released, who looks as if he might be having a hard time of it? The kind-hearted child.
Roy ignored this, and complained, "I am only half way through my budget report."
Armstrong suppressed a smile. Gargantuan throat plucking a base cord, in humored understanding.
He's fine, much better. The little son-of-a-bitch.
"Every sixth question asks me to confirm numbers," Roy said, lifting his hand in disgust. "What's the point of compiling the god damn thing if you want me to recalculate it? I would have just preferred calculate it myself."
Armstrong popped a good-natured, and leaned down. Panting a massive paw on the back rung of Roy's chair, Roy felt it protest the weight, and gave Armstrong his focus, when he muttered a discrete, "My family has close ties with one of the Brigadier's on the committee, and he thinks Ed will not have a problem having his appeal approved." Armstrong winked, and Roy felt his spirits lift.
"That's great news." It was. "But as pay back for this headache, I intend to tell him it's been denied, just to see him squirm a little." Armstrong's expression fell with horror and Roy tried to defend himself. "I'll correct myself right after, Major." He gave Armstrong's swollen bicep a playful swat. "What? Have things in the East dried out your sense of humor?"
"But it's such an awful joke." Armstrong was stung. "He'll take it so to heart."
Roy laughed with delight. "Yes." Eagerly he awaited his vengeance "Yes, he will."
Alphonse approached the table with a loud greeting for Armstrong and set a pumpkin chai before Roy. The action was distracted. Alphonse was already breaking into happy social chatter when he plopped down the cup, and Roy looked at it. The Styrofoam print of smiling autumn leaves, the abnormally high mountain of whipped cream.
Roy turned, and looked for Hawkeye accusingly.
The group descended on the table, and Breda was loud enough in public that when Falman entered the café in an amiable approach, he was backpedaling just quickly looking embarrassed by the man.
Responded to Havoc's hurt sounding, "Falman, man, where are you going?" with nothing more than a single victory thumbs-up for for Ed, and fled.
Ed was busy peeling the ingredients label off his purchased coffee beans, and missed the gesture entirely.
"Sir," Havoc sunk into the seat at Roy's side sounding disappointed. "What do you think of this." He beckoned for Ed's attention. "Ed said his new military shrink was preaching to him during his evaluation."
"She's not my shrink," Ed corrected with insult.
"What do you make of that?" Havoc asked. He began a long sip of his coffee and Hawkeye took the seat at his side.
Holding a cheerful cup topped with whipped cream, she deposited a dessert in front of Havoc, and with delight, he returned his cup to the table and rubbed his hands together as if preparing for a large feast.
"If the committee wanted to tell the chief something, wouldn't they have just done it?" Havoc asked. Hawkeye's plate held a red velvet pastry with small cherries and drizzled chocolate. "You think they suspect Ed of butt-buddying with Alphonse?"
"She's not my shrink!" Ed snapped, criticizing Havoc's choice of words with a sharp slap to his shoulder. "She said the military wanted to offer corrective instruction to help me," Ed was angry and plopped into the last vacant chair. "But corrective instruction is just a fancy way of saying military brainwashing, so the hell if I listened."
Roy wanted to groan, and Havoc looked too pleased with himself when he teased a dry, "Military brainwashing that tells you not to shag your brother."
Ed reached over with his automail fist and dropped it onto Havoc's dessert like a hammer. Breda found this hysterical and broke into laughter while Ed returned to conversation. Now much calmer.
"We did everything the committee asked for today, Alphonse included." Hawkeye shared a humored glance with Roy, but she didn't comment. "So that means everything is in the bag." Breda kept laughing, and Ed lifted his hand, and smeared a red and white smudge along the edge of Havoc's plate with Havoc glaring.
"You're a little shit, Ed." Havoc gave the dish an angry shove into the table and left to reorder.
"What!" Ed called after Havoc, beginning to laugh. "Come on Lieutenant, you can still have it!" Ed pointed to the smear of frosting and crumbs, before a quick frown took his expression, and he yelled a serious, "Don't call me little, Havoc!"
Ed was cheerful after his release from incarceration. Armstrong shared his sentiments he had it on good authority the verdict would be favorable, and both brothers looked happier than they had in days.
As a group they enjoyed after work coffee and overpriced sugar-coated, chocolate-lathered desserts, before beginning to disperse. Havoc and Breda were first, when several half uniformed soldiers popped in with carefree invites to late night plans. They were a small group with two female officers laughing and joking out on the sidewalk.
Shesha, who had stayed, but kept conversation largely with Armstrong, Alphonse, or Havoc, was committed to grocery shopping and left with animated waving to run errands. Armstrong as well, left shortly after brief well wishes to Ed, looking satisfied, and Roy found himself and the First Lieutenant the only ones left.
Discretely, Roy gave her a glance. Ditch the Elrics, his look said, go enjoy yourself. He knew she missed home, if for nothing more than her wealth of guns to clean, dog to cuddle, and plants to water.
He, on the other hand, had a date, and excused himself with a wide grin announcing he had extended plans of the pleasurable sort. In jest Hawkeye batted at his playfulness with her napkin, and Alphonse didn't grasp the meaning.
It abandoned her with the Elrics and when she opened the conversation for departure, Alphonse wasn't ready to leave her. Offered to accompany her on any errand she referenced and she surrendered. Went to the post office with Alphonse following happily and Ed in toe, largely silent but looking none too bothered. Found herself unable to deflate Alphonse's excitement and was persuaded into returning to the Elric apartment for dinner, even while feeling unsure she should be.
"It's no problem!" Alphonse said happily. "Hawkeye, it's no problem! You're a great dinner guest, and now that I can eat two new foods, dinner will be much better than it has been." Alphonse was walking backwards up the dorm's stairwell, and flashed two fingers to Hawkeye's kind smile and Ed's silent, but tense, expression.
"Al, don't be rude, she might have to go home." Ed was trying to be polite. Alphonse waved this off as preposterous with an elaborate blow of air, and Hawkeye laughed. She had a sneaking suspicion she knew why Alphonse wanted her to stay, and it had nothing to do with dinner. He was developing her basic theory into a scientifically tested one, and for the moment she was the only collaborating party. Although Roy thought she was out of her mind for suggesting hypothermia, Alphonse did not. He listened carefully when she explained, and then sat quiet contemplating her idea. He shot forward some obstacles, those being his lack of consistent symptoms, and his body's war on food, but she refuted the best she could as a sniper. She felt his symptoms would vary with his temperature, and his digestion was separate.
Ed entered the dorm and held the door for them before declaring a loud, "Ah! You never truly appreciate cheap poorly furnished military dorms, until they're taken away from you." Ed gave an elaborate stretch and went to the refrigerator. "Alphonse, what new foods do you have?" Taking inventory he was counting and tapping containers.
Hawkeye slipped out of her light jacket and took a seat at the Elric kitchen counter.
Alphonse had been turning her ideas into elaborate equations she didn't understand. They were foreign to her the way her counter-sniper tactics were foreign to him. She wasn't a chemist, and alchemy required a lot of chemistry. When Roy was younger and studying under her father he poured through books with her father scolding him mercilessly for not learning accurately or fast enough. In order to perform alchemy, you needed an acute understanding of subjects others committed their entire lives to. Yet in the kitchen, Alphonse was building them with the comfortable amusement of one doing a Sunday crossword puzzle
"Nii-san!" Alphonse ran to the refrigerator door and leaned in alongside Ed. "I can have parmesan cheese, and mushrooms." He pointed to two containers before to the bathroom door. "But I want you to go shower, you smell like a convict. Leave dinner to us."
"Cheese?" Ed asked, with a bit of alarm. "You started the dairy food group without me?"
"I can smell the bars of your cell, the thin human-worn cot you were sleeping on," Alphonse was counting off his fingers, "the sweat thick air you were kept in…"
Ed rolled his eyes and shut the refrigerator. Advised them he was leaving to shower, and Hawkeye startled when Alphonse turned on her seconds after Ed shut himself in the bathroom.
Suddenly, it was obvious Alphonse had deliberately removed Ed from the room.
"Nii-san, may not understand our hypothesis," Alphonse whispered quickly. Hawkeye was not surprised considering how well Roy had taken to it. "Until I have more extensive data I think," Alphonse paused looking uncomfortable, "I need something incredibly conclusive to show him. He's not going to receive my results well, so I think…" Alphonse paused again, and Hawkeye waited as he struggled with his mouth as if losing function. Licked his lips quickly, the way Ed did, and confessed, "I think we shouldn't tell him."
"Why?" Hawkeye was shocked. "He can probably help us." She wasn't expecting Ed's alchemist brain to accept it kindly, but Roy had come around. She had a certain expectant faith Ed would listen to Alphonse with the devotion Alphonse listened to Ed, but suddenly, she worried that was not true. Was there a clear alpha?
Alphonse shook his head nervously. "I haven't completed enough experimentation to appear well founded yet. I don't know what to say."
"Alphonse, you don't really have a lot of time." Hawkeye was flabbergasted. "Why do you need to know what to say?" She hadn't known what to say. "He only wants to help you, he'll hear you out. Both of you working on this will be much better than only one." Alphonse shook his head again, looking troubled with her insistence, and she returned to a disbelieving, "Why?"
"It's not going to be easy for Nii-san the way you think it will be," Alphonse said sadly. "He's going to see it…a different way. So I need to be ready. I want to tell him. Really really want to tell him." Alphonse looked crushed. "But I need to be ready."
"I don't understand."
"Nii-san needs to be relaxed right now. He doesn't need to keep worrying about me."
"He's not going to stop just because you hide information from him," Hawkeye said, keeping her voice an equivocal whisper. "That will make things worse."
As if on cue, Ed exited the bathroom and looked to move toward the bedroom, before deviating to approach them with a friendly, "Whatever you guys want to eat tonight is fine by me. I've been stuck on cafeteria rations." Freeing his hair from his braid Ed was actively gathering it into a pony tail. Ever observant, he understood immediately they were in conversation. Recognized that conversation to be discrete, and teased a playful, "What are we talking about?"
Alphonse spun to face Ed, looking guilty, and firming his lips in an attempt to lock back the confession that so obviously wanted to spill.
"Want me to wait?" Ed asked kindly. Alphonse was ramrod straight. Hesitating with indecision. "Want to tell me later?" Ed was trying and Alphonse couldn't handle it.
"Nii-san!" It came out in one breath. "I have some theories about what might be wrong with me!"
Ed's eyebrows shot up with excitement. "That's great!"
"The one I think is most certain you're not going to believe."
"Why?" Ed's excitement became an immediate frown.
Alphonse moved to the counter, and slid his open notebook to Ed when he took a seat. The pages were filled with tiny pencil equations and diagrams. "Look at my notes and tell me what you think," Alphonse said, anxiety dissolving. He was proud of his work, and Hawkeye smiled when Alphonse ran a pointing finger over the scribbles showing Ed where to look. "This page is my summary."
Ed went silent, reading, before poking his metal finger down on the sixth line. "You're chemical formula is wrong." Ed looked up. "Give me a pencil." Alphonse leaned over Ed's shoulder to see, and Ed gave a humored older-sibling chuckle. "That's probably why you thought I wouldn't believe it, because it's not working right."
Alphonse shook his head. "No, I did that on purpose. Leave it like that."
"But it's wrong." Ed was confusion. "You need to fix it, Al. Or you won't be able to properly calculate going forward." Ed reached for Alphonse's discarded pencil, and Alphonse snapped his notebook away.
"I want to keep it like that, Nii-san, don't change it," Alphonse said, curt with anger.
Ed gave Alphonse a heavy sigh and slid the pencil behind his ear. Sounding unimpressed Ed said, "Okay." He extended his hand. "We'll work with an incorrect formula." Alphonse returned the book, but Ed made it only two more lines before frowning. "Alphonse, what the heck are you doing?" Ed's tone was disapproval. "This formula is wrong too, and these degrees you're using are all messed up."
"I know!" Alphonse said quickly.
"If you know, why don't you fix them?" Ed's tone of mild annoyance cradled a center of distress. As if looking at incorrect equations hurt. That enduring them broken was torment, and Ed asked, "Can we fix them, please?"
Alphonse shook his head. "No, Nii-san." Tone firm. "You're going to have to read it with them broken and work like that."
"But I am reading nonsense!" Ed complained. "You don't calculate human data, with animal metrics. Where did you even get these figures? I can't be expected to review something like this! The cellular anatomy is going to start directly conflicting with the rest of your numbers."
"Is that really what the great Fullmetal Alchemist has to say!" Alphonse chastised, slapping the notebook back to the counter, and giving Ed a tiny coercing shove.
Ed returned his posture to study the notebook, brow heavy with a frown. "You're making this personal." Angry, he ripped fresh sheet of paper from the back of the book and took the pencil from his ear, taunting, "Fine. We'll get serious then." Began his own set of equations, and speaking to the page as he wrote asked, "Is it sexist if I ask you for coffee, Lieutenant?"
Hawkeye watched Ed's pencil move at the speed of light. "Maybe not if you said, would you mind making me a cup of coffee, please," Hawkeye said kindly.
Ed grunted to the paper and kept working, before mumbling, "Would you mind making me a cup of coffee, please?"
Hawkeye didn't just make coffee. She made spaghetti and red sauce, coffee, and sautéed mushrooms sprinkled with parmesan cheese. Alphonse ate slowly looking extremely pleased, and Ed continued making equations with an empty coffee cup and untouched bowl of pasta.
Once calculating Ed didn't engage in conversation or acknowledge his surroundings. Alphonse was assimilated to this behavior, and chatted with Hawkeye, helped clean up, and took a call from Fuery. He'd been unable to join them earlier, was naturally social, and spoke to Hawkeye as well. Before Ed finished Alphonse had time to change into pajamas, reheat Ed's spaghetti, an d sit waiting at Ed's side before Ed uprooted with a satisfied, "Okay."
Ed lifted his paper and held it up alongside Alphonse's book. "Now tell me why I'm calculating the thermoregulation data of a small dog."
Alphonse snatched Ed's page with a look of insult. "That's not a small dog," he said angrily. "That's me." Ed didn't respond to this nonsensical statement, and Alphonse straightened Ed's work with a snap and began reading, with a miserable, "This is my data, Nii-san."
Ed began the soft confused laugh of someone being told a hole-ridden joke. "What?"
"This is my data," Alphonse said, sternly. "I am hypothermic. My hypothalamus is a mess!"
"What?" Ed repeated, giving a quick grunt of disbelief. He sat Alphonse's notebook down. "Al, you're really misinterpreting this. First off, this can't be your data, and secondly, the human hypothalamus is subject to our homeostasis, what are you talking about?" As the only soldier in the room, Alphonse had explained to Hawkeye that the hypothalamus was the portion of the brain acting as the boy's thermostat, and that homeostasis was the state of stability between the internal and external environment, something Alphonse said the human body did instinctively to balance its temperature. While Alphonse at first thought her theory was wrong, because his body was functioning, and therefore enacting all basic functions, it became clearer that although functioning, it was not timely.
"Nii-san," Alphonse lowered Ed's work with an expression of annoyance. "We're not going to be able to have this conversation if you don't stop contradicting me." Ed began tapping his automail index finger with annoyance. "Also, if you don't talk to me like another member of the scientific community, you won't be able to hear what I am saying."
"I can't begin to interpret what you're saying, Alphonse, because your data is inaccurate, and your primary formula is knowingly wrong."
Alphonse sat Ed's work on the counter with a discouraged sigh, and said, "I felt better in the hospital."
Alphonse's confession had the effect of a slap, and speechless Ed slowly leaned back. Gaze trained on Alphonse with disbelief.
"In there," Alphonse said. "I felt better than I ever have." Hawkeye believed this had to do with the hospital maintaining a minimum temperature of seventy-five degrees. This made it likely Alphonse's hospital room was closer to seventy-eight or higher when receiving sun. "I need to figure this out." Alphonse turned to Ed, with a bit of accusation. "I need to get better!"
Ed was stone silent. Alphonse's confession he preferred the robbing hospital that kidnapped him and caused Ed's arrest was a bowling ball to Ed's stomach. He was mute with uncertain skepticism Alphonse meant what he was saying.
"My recovery is the most important thing to me right now, Nii-san."
"It's important to me too," Ed said defensively. "Alphonse, I am doing everything I can."
"Well, you're not doing this!"
"I am not doing what!"
"You're criticizing my stuff instead of listening to what I am trying to say to you!"
"Alphonse!" Ed was angry. Uncharacteristically a tone of real resenting agitation popped in his voice, and Hawkeye was surprised. She had never seen the brothers argue, and it escalated quickly. "You're suggesting to me you are hypothermic, when that is impossible!" Hawkeye heard Roy's words ring through her head. "You're in a temperature controlled environment!" Ed's eyes were darting quickly, frantically, with staggering thought and analysis, and beneath it, his expression was crumbling from solid confidence to something very close to fear. "What about everyone else! Living here without a problem!"
"Those humans don't have new bodies!" Alphonse screamed.
"That doesn't make you right!" Ed leapt off his stool and grabbed Alphonse's shoulders. "I want to help you get better too, but we have to be serious about this, and we have to stick to the facts."
"I am sticking to the facts! These are the facts! Don't tell me you can't see it!"
"Your calculations are more appropriate for a lean hundred pound dog, and that's not a person!"
Angrily Alphonse tried to shove out of Ed's hold, and yelled, "That's why I am sick!"
Ed shook his head. "I brought you back right!" he cried, voice deflating with his body to a sad beggar's grasp on Alphonse's arms. "Don't do this to me," Ed said softly, falling perfectly still. "Don't add one more torture." Alphonse felt the bruising strength in Ed's hands wilt into depression, and fell silent. "You can't be hypothermic." Ed sounded utterly lost. "How." So utterly lost. "How could I have missed it?"
While trying to do one thing, work on the Annual Arsenal report, a massive project, Mustang found himself actually double checking and confirming ammunition orders for their Eastern bases. Something purchasing and financing should have already done.
While double checking figures from the East and North he received a call from the West Wing's fifth hall informing him documentation on one of his men had been delivered. While the receptionist was vague, unable to identify what was in the sealed manila folder she received, Mustang did. It was Ed's military psychological evaluation, and he planned to receive it before Ed could.
Deliberately that morning, he had sabotaged any hope Ed might do so, and although this made him appear nosey, or perhaps pushy, or perhaps just imperious, he was not.
He did so at Hawkeye's request.
While adding massive numbers of ammunition, and common stock Mustang called Hawkeye, on the ninth laboratory floor.
She was not working, of this he was certain. She had come in and out quickly that morning. Delivered him a large coffee with significantly less whipped cream, and a long pointed stare, and that look made things clear: I am not working, and you know I am not working, but this is me telling you, and this is you allowing that. She was consumed in Alphonse's pet science project, and while this promised to mount the piles, and back up the phone calls, for the moment, the house of cards would stand. She did not shirk responsibilities easily, or commonly, and this meant that what she was doing she found more important than work, and putting aside her weapons, Roy wasn't exactly sure what type of category could rival her ethical dedication to the country. So whatever it was, he planned not to interfere until it became interfering.
Hawkeye answered the call to the ninth floor lab with a simple, "Lab B4."
"It's me," Roy said, calculating his math longhand. He did this with a combined sense of embarrassed resignation. He had gone into the military, not decided to be a mathematician. "The West Five called."
"Oh good," she said, voice rushed and busy. "I'll come right down."
"Okay." Roy hung up and continued working. He managed two more columns of sums before she arrived. She opened the door and then stood holding it impatiently. They took the elevator together and walked through the West halls with barely any chatter. They enjoyed the temporary respite of each other's company, and although he was curious to her new hobby, and he knew she was concerned about the office in her absence, they were silent until they approached the reception counter, and greeted the young female soldier there.
Roy ordered the retrieval of Edward Elric's documents as Elric's commanding officer, and the young girl left for them. Playfully Roy gave Hawkeye his first smile, and said, "I feel like I have numbers coming out my ears."
"Where is Ed?" Hawkeye asked, looking confused. Shouldn't the boy be stomping along demanding documents with his name be given to him, and accusing them of being prying spies?
"Home," Roy said simply. "Moving."
Yes, Ed had to uproot his dorm and move to his new one. This would have been an easy task for any normal soldier: Toss some things in a box, grab a pizza, unpack by dumping most items into piles on the floor, and sleep on top of your bare mattress in clothing, but this was Ed.
"You would think the break to task-oriented manual labor would be tranquil for him," Roy said, accepting the sealed manila folder. "But this is Fullmetal we're talking about." He gave a heavy sigh and ripped the top off the envelope. He left it behind on the reception desk. "So he's complicating things as usual."
Ed was incredibly paranoid about moving Alphonse into an unknown environment, and Hawkeye said he responded poorly to the direction the committee wanted this done immediately. Roy understood, responded poorly, to be, had a fucking fit, according to Havoc. To make matters worse Hawkeye had given Ed this instruction in front of Major Armstrong, and the man was adamant he could help Ed move.
Ed had requested permission to go to his new two bedroom dorm immediately and Roy had approved it. He did this because Ed looked as if he would pop if he wasn't allowed to do so, but it later worked out in his favor. Ed had called Roy from the new dorm to express how unfit it was, and how much time he would need to prepare it, and Roy felt karma arrive.
Ed was so distracted with creating a stable place for Alphonse to transition to, it had not occurred to him the results of his second evaluation, Alphonse's evaluation, and Alphonse's physical would be coming in. So Roy had given Ed the day off. Graciously approving whatever Ed needed. What a morning it had been.
"What are we going to tell Ed about this report?" Hawkeye asked, sliding the thin packet from the folder and flipping into the second page.
"We?" Roy teased. "I was going to tell him you hit me and took it." Hawkeye laughed into the page she was reading. "And I think we'll have to make that call after we know what it says."
Unlike the first report, generated for the appeal of which Ed was privy, the second report was above Ed's scope of command. The military owned a certain part of you as a state alchemist, and that part was more or less all of you. Ed's military acquired mental health information was disclosed to him only if the military approved it, and therefore, Ed could technically not open his evaluation unless Roy authorized it.
In what Roy deemed an astute judgment call of little faith, he was intercepting, because he believed if things were listed poorly, Ed would rip the report to shreds, and reproducing and requiring would be a pain. Privately, he had long ago titled this, Elric-insurance: avoiding a high cost with a little use of policy.
Hawkeye was scanning through the first page at the speed of light, and did so while walking. Roy led them up a floor and over to information. They needed an office to hide in, and Sheska's seemed as good a spot as any. The mousy girl was hardly in it as she resigned over Record's Reception, and they were on friendly enough terms their discovery there would not concern her. What they needed was a place they could hide, where no one would look for them, and no one public would arrive.
Sheska's office turned out to be the worst place to have gone.
"Oh my gosh!" Sheska cried on sight of them. They stepped into her office together. "This is too much, you guys too!"
Roy stopped walking after opening her office door and finding it crowded with several employees, Major Armstrong, Falman, and Havoc. They couldn't have gotten closer to their own Unit if they tried.
Hawkeye slid Ed's report back into the manila envelope with as much stealth as possible and gave Sheska a polite, albeit confused, smile, but it was obvious. Streamers and single balloon decorated the office poorly and christened a single serving cake.
"I can't believe even Colonel Mustang remembered my birthday!" Sheska said, holding her cheek and blushing with excitement. "Maybe I've misjudged you, Colonel!" Several of the young girls from Data Analysis were crowding Sheska's cake and they shared fast whispers and excitement the great Flame Alchemist was gracing them with their presence.
Hawkeye called girls like this, nit-wits, and the only female officer in the room, the Pointed Blade Alchemist, a bitch. Since Hawkeye did not call many women this, Roy had taken strong note.
"Happy birthday!" Hawkeye said quickly, walking to Havoc's side and giving him an elbow in the ribs.
"We looked everywhere for you two," Falman whispered, wearing a crooked party hat.
"We came without you when you didn't turn up." Havoc shrugged elaborately.
"When did we know it was her birthday?" Roy asked, feeling blindsided. He took a glance around and it looked as if they were now required to stay until the singing was over.
"This morning," Havoc said, looking apologetic. "Fuery heard from the squad downstairs because Sheska's good friends with the sniper on that squad, and he's taking her out with a group this weekend. He invited Fuery, Fuery told me, I looked for you, and then we just forged both your names on a card." Havoc was holding a noise maker and he sat it in his lips beginning to laugh. "I signed Ed and Al in there too, but I wrote, have a sexy birthday, love, your Fullmetal Alchemist." Havoc thought this was funny and laughed at his own joke.
Sounding exhausted, Hawkeye asked, "Why would you do that."
"Hey, what the hell, you know?" Havoc said, shrugging to himself. "He's been having a rough time of it. This ought to shake it back in the right direction." Havoc gave the noise maker an obnoxious blow when two of the Data Analyst girls did so. "Chasing chicks and not dicks, right?" Havoc asked, directing the joke to Fuery who came in, greeted Sheska loudly, and then joined in on the laughs as they waited for the celebration to begin and end.
It was abhorrent.
They waited for the chatty girls from Accounting to arrive, all of which ran in and gave Sheska hugs. Breda was late, and he came in singing, For She's A Jolly Good Fellow, frightfully off tune with three of the younger crowd from maintenance, before they sang Happy Birthday in the polite communal tone offices always did. Hawkeye had tucked Ed's folder beneath her arm unnoticed.
Sheska was thrilled, she passed out slivers of cake, they ate, and then dispersed.
The week was becoming more and more complicated. Creta had opened fire on their border when the Lieutenant leading it deliberately parked ammunition transportation several feet over the border line. Relations with Creta were not dicey, and this appeared a child's prank. The distance between their fort and Creta's was a meager five football fields, and the troops often pulled, what Hawkeye called, Shenanigans, on each other. This one just happened to result in the release of a common, relatively harmless F-54c missile.
Being bombed created lots of paperwork, and no one was happy. Roy could feel both Breda and Fuery becoming annoyed the suggestion of the Western bombing might result in a long night and he did his best to ignore it. He ordered them to follow procedure and contact Western Command to offer aide and seek out directions. With this request Havoc stopped chewing the pen that was half out of his mouth and lifted an eyebrow. As the Colonel, he was the one who typically sought out their directions, but for the moment, all he wanted to do was stow away and read a few pieces of paper. When he entered his office he did not return to his desk.
"Sir," Breda was complaining. The man went to his desk and slouched into it with annoyance. "I doubt anyone even died in this. You know Creta was just blasting the trucks." Hawkeye left the office, and her absence made Roy itch to follow.
"Let's not take casualties so lightly," Roy said. He knew what this was really about: Friday Night. Yes, everyone had plans for this week's Friday night, and no one wanted to be in office late working on what Creta was or wasn't doing when they hadn't had military qualms with them in ten years. "I will be right back," Roy said, adding a firm tone of agitation to his voice. He shut the door roughly behind him, and was expecting Hawkeye to be in the hall but it was vacant. Clueless, he checked the break room and then the copy room and found her inside holding the folder. "You waited?" Roy asked.
The copy room was small. A narrow desk with paper supplies had been pushed up alongside the machine itself. A fat bulky thing made with basic engineering and alchemy. It worked, but it produced poor grayscale images of what you put inside, so unless your reports had lots of handwritten columns, people did not copy things, they wrote them again.
"What do you mean, did I wait?" Hawkeye asked, looking confused. She offered the folder, and Roy took it. "I'm not going to read the entire thing."
Roy slid Ed's report from the envelope feeling shocked. "That really defeats the sport of sneaking around like this with me." He gave her a grin. "When else do we get to be so covert on a Wednesday Lieutenant?"
Hawkeye pinched her lips into a tight repressed smile and gave him an appreciative look that said: yes, you're funny.
Roy flipped open Ed's report and it was immediately recognizable as a state document. While Ms. Sander's report had been intimate, with a formal outline and professional summary of her evaluation and results, this was in the form of a military interrogation. Ed's report listed the date, time, questions he was asked, and his responses word for word. It was a true report the way a soldier would want to review it, with the facts black and white. What were you asked, and how you answered. None of this interpretive mumbo-jumbo because we wanted to interpret for ourselves by reading the dialogue and then glancing at the summary. The military provided this on page nine, after eight pages of questions.
"I glanced at it," Hawkeye confessed, with Roy scanning through the pages.
"I wouldn't have stolen it with you if I had concerns about you reading it," Roy said dryly, running over page two.
"This is way outside of my jurisdiction," Hawkeye said, sounding troubled with their snooping.
"Oh ho," Roy said, breaking a quick laugh. "He's still a virgin," he said, reading quickly. Hawkeye reached up and pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Sir, please."
"I would have thought for sure by now."
"Sir."
"He travels all over, and come on, Hawkeye," Roy said, chuckling. "Think about how many fine ladies want the mighty Flame Alchemist to light them on fire, Ed probably has his own Fullmetal Alchemist groupies who'd like to," he teased, "play with his metal?" Hawkeye exhaled a brief sigh and dropped her hand with an unimpressed stare.
"I am worried about him as a person. I don't want to violate his private business, Roy." Roy felt his comedy die the minute she used his first name. "Edward isn't twelve anymore." Hawkeye said, letting her voice fade to a sad whisper. She looked guilty with their actions, and as if something she was hoping would bring her relief, instead brought her more worry.
"How's everything going with Alphonse?" Roy asked, tone serious.
"It's going okay, but things are strained for them at home. Alphonse is struggling to recover from illness, and Ed is," she paused for a moment, "struggling to recover from shame." Roy gave a slow understanding nod. The sense of feeling ashamed of what you had done was not foreign. "He improved," Hawkeye said, indicating the report with a brief point. "Ed's answers are stronger than those he gave us in the beginning, and most likely better than what he gave Carol."
"I would hope so," Roy said, reading steadily.
The military was sterile with their investigation. With unwavering curiosity they fired off questions they wanted the answers to. Are you happy as a soldier? Do you think about injuring yourself? Do you think about injuring others? They were everywhere, investigating what the military found to be Ed's mental health as a soldier to what he might be like personally, and they did so boldly. "How much of this did you read?" Roy asked, flipping through the fifth and sixth page.
"I scanned it," Hawkeye repeated, sounding vague on purpose.
"They flat out asked him about Alphonse, did you see that?" Roy asked, reading over the question a second time with a bit of shock. Have you ever had sex with your brother? It was black and white, the military was not messing around. The answer was either yes or no. Hawkeye was silent. "I didn't imagine it would be this…" he trailed off, seeking the right word. Have you ever solicited your bother to have sex or engage in a sexual act? Have you ever stated to any party engaging in such an activity would be desirable to you.
"Hostile?" Hawkeye suggested. Roy stopped reading and gave a heavy sign. The committee had taken Ed directly for his evaluation, and with work, and their evening celebration, he had not had a chance to hold a private and serious conversation with Ed since. If Ed had concerns some of his character was under suspicious scrutiny, this type of questioning was more than enough to alarm you. "They asked him what he thought might happen if the military found out he was being dishonest and he was engaging in abuse of a minor while on base, or incestuous behavior," Hawkeye said, still sounding sad. "He said, he thought he would be imprisoned, and do you know what they said?"
Roy did not. He had scanned through quickly, discovering general questions on page one, and then stopping periodically where things stood out to him. He could only imagine what the military had said. Amestris was not tolerant inside the ranks. The blooming alchemic skill kept competition high, and judgment higher.
"They said they would ensure he never could again," Hawkeye said, appalled. She had stepped back and leaned into the copier while Roy was reading, and with this she stepped up. "What does that mean?" she asked, with a bit of disgust. "They were threatening him. When he is not convicted guilty, when these are unfounded charges, they threatened him the same way you would a guilty party."
"It's an act that won't be tolerated." Roy felt those words leap from his mouth before he could stop himself. It was his soldier side, his instinctive military-branded response, and Hawkeye recoiled as if she'd lost him for a poster child.
Gave him a filthy look and said, "Don't give me that crap." She moved on. "I've been spending time there, and Ed is not in a good place with all of this. I think it's causing him to question his own self-worth, and that's crazy when you consider what he's capable of." Roy did not admit this was true, and that Ed had openly confessed he feared he'd be identified as both a bad guardian, and worse, a bad brother to Alphonse. Somehow Hawkeye was figuring this out on her own, and she was judicious. "Alphonse is worried about him."
"Alphonse is always worried about him." Roy tried to lighten the mood.
Hawkeye's expression was dark with sympathy. Her eyes were becoming increasingly worried, but it wasn't until she kept her gaze dead on Roy that he realized there was more inside her than that. She was speaking to him, from her eyes. Begging him, and maybe she didn't know she was doing it, and maybe she did. She wanted him to help, how he wasn't sure, when he didn't know, who, he was certain. She wanted him to help Ed, the same way she wanted him to assign the men lunch tables when Ed was brought onboard.
Somehow the act of watching a small twelve-year -old weed through a cafeteria of tight knit laughing talking soldiers was too much for her. Ed was half their height, and would politely go about getting his lunch before struggling to find a place to sit because the soldiers were uncomfortable with him. Didn't know what to make of him. He was twelve, and they were enjoying healthy lunch conversation full of profanity, crude humor, sexual references, and things that made good men, even while so young, want to censure children. With Ed doing nothing more than trying to sit and eat, he was causing a ruckus, and Hawkeye couldn't stand it. You know assigned seating might help, she had said, looking at Roy the same way she was now. That way everyone would know where to go.
"What did he say?" Roy asked. He didn't want to read the report anymore. Hearing it from her was worse, but somehow also better.
"What?"
"What did Ed say, in response to their threat?"
"He said, yes." Hawkeye gave a deep enduring breath, and nodding slightly, repeated, "He said, yes, I understand."
Roy was stunned with Ed's sterile acceptance and courage. He didn't know how to interpret the threat, the military could mean it one of three ways: a threat on Ed's wellbeing, Alphonse's wellbeing, or Ed's physical body. It gave no discriminating hint, but Roy wouldn't take any of them off the field as a possibility. To be in Ed's place and have this openly addressed was powerful. The military was telling him they would cut his hand if he stepped out of line.
"I think you should talk to him," Hawkeye said, giving a small guilt ridden shrug. How long could we keep playing the guiding male role model? "He is going to take off his arm."
"What!"
Hawkeye jutted her chin toward the report. "He was clever." Her tone was brittle with sympathy. "He told the interrogator he was right handed, and therefore, believed he might be unintentionally injuring Alphonse with the automail arm because it's cumbersome." Roy was shocked Ed would describe his arm so inaccurately, and his jaw dropped. Hawkeye nodded with like understanding because they both recognized the outrageous lie.
"But he's not right handed."
"The interrogator knew that as well," Hawkeye said. "He openly confronted Ed with his military file reporting he is ambidextrous, but Ed said that was a lie, that he was worried about the military thinking less of him when he joined, and he was actually right handed, and that his mechanic would vouch for that." Roy felt like the world temporarily existed in the copy room. The walls felt close, and office miles away. For a moment there was nothing but Hawkeye's soft speaking voice painting a wealth of information. "He said although he would never intentionally hurt Alphonse, he might accidentally hurt him with the metal arm. Sir, he played with his words to confess to technically nothing, while offering a distracting trade. He says he will have his arm removed until his charges are dropped."
Hawkeye looked horrified with this because she was there when Scar blew Ed's arm to shambles and nearly killed him. It didn't matter that the arm was metal, the act was vicious and meant for flesh. At the time, as long as Ed wasn't bleeding-out Roy's attention was on Scar, and it wasn't until he accidentally noticed Hawkeye approaching Ed, while surveying Scar's escape route with Havoc, that he realized what truly happened.
Ed had part of his body blown off.
Yes, the arm was a prosthetic, but it was plugged into Ed's real self, and Ed's mind believed it was part of him. With intent to murder, Scar as a violent adult male, had grabbed Ed's much younger and weaker body, and tried to kill it. All he succeeded in accomplishing before they arrived, was the destruction of what looked to them to be a fake arm, but Hawkeye had gone crunching over the bits and pieces of it, and knelt at Ed's side. Had stripped her uniform top off and blanketed it over Ed, and Roy had seen her smile, it was the calm thankful smile you gave a soldier whose wound was a moment ago gushing blood, but who now appeared to be pulling through.
Ed had kept himself composed for the men, the scene, his commanding officer, and even her the First Lieutenant. He had stood up, spoken to some of them, and climbed into the car Roy provided. It wasn't until all four of them were riding back to Central Command, perched together in the two back seats, that Ed suddenly began hyperventilating in delayed panic and shock. He had frantically grabbed at his shoulder socket before turning to Alphonse, and hugging the armor's battered shell.
On that day Roy was not familiar with Ed's medical file, but after leaving the crime scene chaos still wet from the rain, he made mental note to become familiar with it when he thought Ed was suddenly having an asthma attack.
It was Hawkeye who had recognized the truth of what was happening, and slid to the edge of her chair to help. Without a word, she adjusted the top of her uniform higher on Ed's shoulders to politely cover his face, and said, "You're feeling the effects of a close call on your body Ed. In a moment it will pass." Her tone was soft enough the rain against the windows almost smothered it.
Ed had pulled away from them, desperately clutching Alphonse's broken side with the armor unable to respond with its only arm on the other side of the car, but Hawkeye had been right. All Ed needed was time. The boy hid inside her jacket, curled up, and huddled to Alphonse's side calming himself down. By the time they arrived at Central Command, Ed was the same composed person he'd been at the scene, and this did not go unnoticed by the soldiers.
Later Roy had learned, as he reviewed Ed's medical file with people collecting in his office like curious bystanders to a terrible accident, that Ed's arm was not meant to come in and out commonly. In fact Automail, at the ports, was meant to stay plugged in. Changing what an appendage looked like while adhered was no big deal. If Ed wanted he could switch his wrist out for a different hand, or even his forearm for a different elbow, because the shoulder port stayed in place. So having the arm blown off had not been a lucky break, the way a soldier takes a bullet in the helmet and celebrates, it had been a violent grenade action for Ed. The missing arm was painful, and Ed hated the handicap. This memory was clear. Ed had called his mechanic immediately and scheduled to leave, but while in wait was quiet and subdued, as if he'd been stripped and sent in naked.
It wasn't shame, but it was vulnerability, and since that day Roy had not seen Ed without the limbs. He knew if Ed had a say in the matter he kept them, and unless absolutely necessary, they were not removed. So offering them now, and volunteering to elect such a handicap was a powerful suggestion, and powerful distraction and truce to the military.
Do you think I am hurting my brother? Maybe I am, accidentally, with the metal arm. So I'll take it off, and we all feel better.
Hello, hello! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Honestly I haven't read this story in so long, I'm surprised each biweekly chapter I read! It's not that I've forgotten anything, but it's been a while since I've seen it.
Please leave a review, and give me your thoughts. I think Alphonse is such a cutie pie trying to show his older brother his scientific notes.
Chapter 10: Fate of the Agreeing, will be posted May 5, 2017.
Hope to see you there.