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Board of Squares
Chapter Thirteen
Deposit of Charity

- mirage -

Years ago in his youth, when Roy read down his military contract, the tiny text printed there promised and reassured him he was finding the right path.

Within the military was the opportunity of complete devotion to the higher duty of serving and protecting. Purpose to his lifespan when it was otherwise uncertain he might ever truly have one. Ever truly make an impact.

It was finding a straight road in a circular intersection.

Never was there any mention of the real outlines of his job. Polite political statements explained what he learned to be the real life of a soldier: Unwavering loyalty and service to your country, meant unquestionably following orders. No matter what. From him, it took most everything. The dream of protecting what he could not, left him much earlier than he thought he would, and in its wake, the fierce protection to covet and spare what he could, came much faster than he could understand.

One little war gave him a private office, desk, and with it, staff. Obeying commands, gave way to issuing commands, gave way to manipulating intention and strategy. Of realism rooted in cynicism he found himself dedicated. To abolishing the corruption he couldn't stomach, to implementing the equity people so badly deserved. If he could write the laws, there would be none he detested. None that were not right, and it would become so easy. Practicing unwavering loyalty and service to your country would mean: making the rules.

So it wasn't in his job description. Not a role, responsibility, priority, or obligation, to deviate or allow unnecessary risk to that which he had been toiling after for years. Yet, Edward came to belong to him. The boy's only crime ignorance, and his, selfishness, as he plucked a twelve-year-old from a twelve-year-old's life, set him in the office, and said to the team, "Here."

Edward was his greatest asset. Sometimes, his greatest threat. And so he tended. Governed everything, and anything. When Havoc kept complaining, when Falman kept criticizing, when Fuery kept asking, with disbelief, "We don't really want him in here with us, listening to all this bad stuff, do we?"

Had no reply when Mustang responded with, "Is that what we do now? Bad stuff?" Wasn't this valiant country-serving stuff? Honor and duty stuff?

No one was ever scolded. How could you, it was so unfair. When Fullmetal went about talking, and making noise, and moving when it wasn't necessary, and asking questions when it wasn't time, and ignorantly blundering all levels of social calendar and function, so Breda wore unabashed baffled and disgusted expressions, and nothing was said. How could you criticize their skepticism and concern when it was so well placed, and she was so angry.

"I am sure he will catch on." Roy had tried to answer her. "Quicker." Made excuses. "Surely he'll start catching on quicker."

"I don't really think he should be, catching on, sir." Fullmetal awakened a side in Hawkeye she wasn't ready to acknowledge. A side she found humiliating in the office and had been merciless. "I didn't join the military to be a housewife. I didn't join the military to be a mother. I am not some short-brained domesticated whipping-post. I am a sniper, Colonel. A damn fine sniper.

He pacified. "I know, Lieutenant." Pacified and pacified. "I quite clearly agree."

But she couldn't handle it. Everything was an issue. She was compelled, and she hated it. Would sit, pencil tapping and tapping. Unseeing eyes staring down at her work while Havoc tested the waters as to how far he could tease the boy. Was Fullmetal as gullible as Fuery? Could we get him to go outside and lick the winter flagpole?

In his memories, Roy was certain he had done everything he could. Ordered Falman to stop being disgusted. Ordered Breda to stop making faces. Ordered Fuery to stop asking questions. Ordered Havoc to stop teasing Fullmetal in ways Fullmetal couldn't understand, and tried to rise to her needs because it wasn't fair. To her. To Edward. To his staff which he prioritized higher than all else. Yet it went on.

Days, weeks, years, until every urgency, and instinct, and reaction, and desperation, became normality. Became reality, and this regiment-protecting, office-refereeing, mission-accepting, shit spoon-feeding, life, was the contract, was the career path, was the job description Roy never imagined he'd have.

Sitting in his vacant office, exhausted, at nearly one in the morning, he remembered himself as a young boy. Who didn't know a single god damn thing. Had gone and taken all of this on with a retard's grin and retard's ambition.

Then the phone rang.

The finely crafted brass bell screaming in the silence until Roy snatched it and held it to his ear.

"Are you staying at your desk?" Ed whispered over the line, tone accusatory and suspicious.

"I planned to," Roy said flatly. "Although I'm just barely resisting the temptation to get up and skip around the place while there's space."

Ed muttered an annoyed, "What the fuck," before scolding an angry, "Stop messing around."

"Fullmetal, if I was not at my desk, I could not have answered my desk phone." Late night fatigue was chipping at Roy'ss patience. "Have you seen anything on your end?" His office was on the fourth floor, and General Keshow's was on the eighth.

"No, you?"

"No."

For colonels with the ambition to become Fuher, breaking into the office of committee resigning Generals was out of the question, but there were no laws against working late. In the silent clock ticking office Roy's only company was his spread out untouched Arsenal report, and the moon's windowpane carpeting.

"While I am gone, you'll keep an eye on Alphonse, right?" Ed asked.

"Maybe."

Ed gave a small laugh, and it was static over the phone. "Are you always this funny late at night?" Ed was desperate for humorous chatter with the weight of reality sitting squarely in their laps.

"I can't say. Usually I'm sleeping." Roy stared across the office at the closed door. "Of course, we'll make sure he stays home and out of the limelight so he doesn't suspect. I'll make up something about keeping you in the office. I'll raise my voice and use unflattering terms so he thinks I'm angry, and says nothing so as not to get you into more trouble."

Sounding impressed, Ed said, "Hey, that's a good idea."

"That's a repeating pattern."

Being on the fourth floor, there was little one could do to assist a burglary four floors up, but Roy believed there was something to be said about attendance and what that means in terms of support. What it might mean when good ideas were needed, if certain people began panicking, or if ugly folders contained even uglier reports.

"What time is your train?" Roy asked. His safest location was his own office. Ed's was the eighth floor.

"Zero seven hundred."

Ed had hidden himself before close of business in the only place possible on the eighth floor. With nothing but locked offices, and one classified Records' room, he had tucked himself into the utility closet.

"I think we should start now," Ed said.

"We wait until three as discussed."

It was a very narrow room. Wide enough for one person, there were a few shelves of cleaning supplies, a broom, a mop, and a duster.

"Three is too late. I need to go now."

"Three, Ed."

Roy considered cracking jokes about Ed being lucky enough to squeeze himself into the mop bucket, before realizing dumbly, that utility closets did not have phones.

And so the familiar feeling, became a familiar thought.

NOT IN MY…"Edward, where are you right now?" …JOB DESCRIPTION.

"The closet," Ed whispered quickly.

"What phone is this?"

"The closet phone."

"The closet doesn't have a damn phone."

Ed muffled a breath of agitation. Not agitation he was caught, because he was using asinine lies, but because he did not want to discuss being caught.

"Fullmetal, I do not approve of us deviating from plans which have been discussed and agreed upon."

"But I can't wait all night!"

"If you want my support, then you are to follow what orders I give."

"Your orders are outranked."

"You're in General Keshow's office, aren't you." Roy dropped his brow into his warm palm and held his eyes. He had planned to sweep the halls, the elevators, the stair well, listen for any sounds, and check the windows on each side of the building, all before giving Ed the okay to move. "Your impulsiveness is an unnecessary risk." Ed grunted miserably, because it was, and they both knew it.

"Forgive me if I don't have the luxury of just, sitting around," Ed said, abandoning his whispering for a low hushed tone. "But I have a god damn train to catch in a few hours! It took me a lot longer to get in here than we had calculated, so be happy I started earlier!"

And then there was that. The fact that, at this moment, Ed was not leaving the closet, no Ed had left the closet a while ago, and was now calling Roy's office from General Keshow's office.

Roy envisioned Ed sitting in the man's chair with his ankles crossed on the man's desk, and his nails scrubbing at the lapel of his shirt. "Going from the closet into an office wasn't bad but…" Yes, that was simply alchemy on a lock. An alchemist's lock, but still relatively basic for the Fullmetal Alchemist. "But then the walls were all booby trapped." Roy envisioned large knives dropping from the ceiling, swinging through the air, and clipping Ed's bangs as the boy did acrobatics to avoid them.

"What do you mean?" Surely that couldn't have happened.

"I mean, the architects built these offices with all sorts of arrays inside the walls stopping my transmutations. I couldn't remove small pieces, or make holes to climb through. I couldn't get them to come down at all. I had to start deconstructing everything."

"Son of a bitch, Ed." What a mess that would make: drywall crumbling down like chalk, insulation floating about like cotton candy, electrical wires everywhere like jumping rope. The plan was to transmute small burglar sized holes in discrete places so Ed could wiggle through. The act was something of a burrowing through all offices leading to General Keshow's, and as long as they were all empty and the light from the transmutation was contained, there was little risk of being spotted.

"Hey, give me some credit," Ed said, head growing fat. "I'm good. You know I'm good. They'll never know it was me, I promise. They'll never even know it was done." Roy imagined Ed turning sideways and stepping through framing two-by-fours. Passing over and under hand drawn arrays left in absurd places to seal high ranking offices from this type of…mutiny?

The vision was absurd, but Roy believed Ed's cocky whispered voice, and was mildly irritated with a bit of jealousy and pride that Ed was actually good enough to deconstruct and reconstruct walls with no trace of himself in a hive of skilled alchemists.

"But…" Ed said, tone changing to suggest the first obstacle. "He has a lot of file cabinets." Roy was expecting this. "Lots and lots of file cabinets." Roy had told Ed to expect this. "And they have unusual locks." Ed did not sound as confident with file cabinets as he did with walls. "I don't know where to look."

"I don't know either," Roy said, feeling stumped. How would either of them know where to look.

"See, the problem is,' Ed said slowly, sounding uneasy. "If I have to look through them all…"

If you have to look through them all what? Roy thought. You want me to come help? You want a ranking Colonel to break into a General's office and pilfer through his files?

"There will be a lot of files." Roy repeated his earlier directions. "Start on a few, and see if you can guess as to the cataloging system. Then you need to just do your best."

Ed was unsatisfied with this. Doing your best, did not always mean success. Mom was testimony of that.

"I can't kill this man," Ed whispered.

"And yet you may have to," Roy countered quickly. "We have plenty of time."

"We don't have plenty of time." Ed was right, and Roy heard worry breaking into the Ed's voice. "He's going to put me on that train," Ed whispered. "This is my only chance. Tonight is my only chance. You're a ranking officer, don't you know how these fat-cats manage their filing systems?" Ed was growing panicked. "This is god damn ridiculous! They're not even labeled!" Ed was not a good worrier. When he worried, Roy pictured Ed as a little tornado the size of his body. No one could think with the sound of such wind, and the chaos of everything whipping about, so he had to change this. He had to stop the storm, and get Ed to focus.

"You sound like a few locks are intimidating you, Fullmetal," Roy said superciliously. Ed was caught off guard, and sputtered a sound of insulted surprise. "Am I really going to have to come up there and finish the job?"

"Cut the shit," Ed snapped. "These aren't just, some, locks. They're unique alchemy locks, and not one of them are the same!"

"A lock is a lock. This job is perfect for you. A little obstacle, for a little alchemist."

Ed was dead silent, before an outraged, "What!" was breathed into the phone. "Are you seriously pulling lame-ass short jokes in the dead of fucking night! Lots of kids are small when they're younger, and then they have growth spurts!" Roy began a soft, but audible, chuckle. "Just come on up here, and I'll kick your ass, Mustang." Roy could hear Ed moving, and there was the sound of metal jostling against metal. Most likely the automail hand fumbling with the locks. "Just make sure you take it easy. Wouldn't want your old man joints giving out while you're on the stairs, you piece of crap."

Roy covered his mouth with a gloved hand, and sat grinning and listening to Ed struggle through lock after lock. Ed opened five of them, and when he slowed down with a bit of uncertainty, Roy added a log to the fire by asking, "What growth spurt?"

"Fucking, ass," Ed snarled, tearing into the file cabinet. Roy could hear Ed flicking his way through the long drawers, reading the folder tabs. "Fucking…" Drawer after drawer. "Fucking asshole, Mustang."

Ed moved around the office. Roy heard the grasp on the phone constantly changing. It was in the left hand, then the right, cradled between Ed's cheek and shoulder, tucked under Ed's arm. Ed wasn't diligently scanning through one file cabinet, he was gaining a sense of how they were set up and finally came to a standstill in front of the few containing employee records. Then Ed was quiet, reading and sorting. Flipping through and plucking up items of interest, and opening and closing drawers, before the sound of diligent research progressed to worried oversight. "Did I miss it?" Ed whispered to himself. "You can't think of a system other than alphabetical, right?"

"Not a good one," Roy answered. "You've found the personnel section?" Ed's reading silence was confession. "The room is dark, sort carefully."

"I don't see him in here."

"Carefully," Roy instructed again.

"This is the third fucking pass I'm making through the cabinet!" Ed tried to follow directions. The sound of ruffling papers continued, and it was in a delicate and cautious speed. The casual loitering of one with a boring magazine, but it didn't last. They grew faster. Where was it! They grew insistent. It must be right here, dammit! They grew fear driven, and starving, and lung collapsing. Roy remained quiet to give Ed time, but the maddening hint that things were wrong came with the sounds repeating.

It was the same few pages. Roy had turned enough pages in his life to know this was not a quick digging into a folder, this was an obsessive back to front, and front to back. Checking for something, missing something, looking for something. Front to back, back to front. Where the fuck is it!

"There…" Ed whispered, papers flying. "There isn't anything in here!" Front to back, back to front. "His name is not on the roster! He doesn't have a file! There is no mission detail!"

Objectively, Ed wasn't the keenest and most observant person out there, and Roy had to believe that. With a sharp tone to grab Ed's attention, but still a compassionate one, he said, "Ed, slow down and look carefully. It could be disguised."

"I am looking carefully!" Ed did not sound as if careful was a part of anything he was doing. "I am motherfucking telling you, its motherfucking not here!" Roy brought a hand to his temples and tried to think. It had to be in the man's office. They might be unethical, and may be corrupt, but there was always a paper trail. General Keshow did not fear anyone breaking into his office, and if they did break in, he certainly didn't fear his mission details being found. Those above him weren't being kept in the dark, they were in on the plan. What was there to hide really? You could put your order to kill in the file cabinet, keep it unlocked, and that was fine and dandy.

"I want you to check the roster again," Roy said, keeping a level headed tone. Ed sounded like a tea kettle tossing itself about a stove top to keep from whistling.

The sound of something being slammed down to mumbled curses, and something else being yanked up could be heard before a few papers crinkled. Roy could envision Ed fisting whatever he was holding so it would be fit for nothing but a gerbil cage when he was done with it.

"Okay!" Ed's voice was strained. "I'm looking at the roster again!" This was obedience. In a time of panic when Ed found the idea of looking at the roster stupid, and time-wasting, he was doing so on blind faith this might be a good idea he didn't understand because: ROY SAID SO.

"Carefully, and slowly, look through the names. We have enough time to look at the names," Roy coached. He could hear Ed's metal finger dragging down the list. "We need to be certain it's not on there." Ed was silent while he read.

"It's not here," Ed said quickly. He had reached the bottom and Roy heard the roster be tossed aside. "He's not on the roster, I told you that!" Roy was nodding to his empty office and phone as if Ed were in front of him. As if Ed could see his calm action and calm demeanor, and grow calmer because of it. "They took him off the roster somehow! They fucking buried him already! They think I'm going to put him in the ground! They think I'm going to lay him flat! That's how sure they are!" Ed sounded more frightened he was contemplating that option, than insulted. "How could they have done that?" Then there was fear. Fear we could erase an entire person just by taking their name off a page. "So fast."

And they were fast weren't they. Fast and judicious when they wanted to be, and forgetful and confused when they wanted to be.

"You can't just remove someone's name and think they'll disappear along with it," Ed whispered. "People must know him. His Unit…" Ed gave a heavy breath into the phone, and it sounded like a gust of heavy wind. "…would know him…his…family…would."

"If he has been removed from the roster they are preparing for a military crime," Roy said confidently. "Edward, you need to understand they are laying the foundation for you." Ed strangled a choked squeaking noise that sounded ridiculously like the tea kettle strangling itself. "I know it's of no comfort, but this does mean they are preparing to aid and support you."

"This is not a valiant mission!" Ed turned his mouth into the phone with repulsed disgust the small twinge of respect he thought he just heard in Roy's voice was actually there. "You loyal boot-licking dog, this is murder, and there is nothing honorable about murder."

So says the soon-to-be murderer to the murderer.

"I think you should leave his office."

"But I don't have the mission detail!" Ed cried, flabbergasted. Roy was silent, Ed was breathing in lung dropping scoffs as if this were premature abandonment of a good idea. "I didn't find anything yet!"

"That's not true," Roy said. "You found exactly what there is to find." Ed's line went silent and Roy looked to his office clock. It was nearly three, and in four hours Ed needed to catch a train. "Go home to your brother." He gave pause for Ed to speak, and when nothing came, he disconnected.

In the moonlit night Ed walked back to his dorm. Windy, the lack of overcast had dropped the temperature, and nose and ears pink and crisp with cold, Ed stepped into the apartment and found it darker than Central's streets.

Outside the lampposts stood like lined soldiers, but inside there was only the breath of the moon slipping in through the windows. Alphonse had somehow already managed to set down an interior welcome mat, and standing on it, Ed stared at the expanded square footage and two bedroom doors.

Yes, two; because you can't keep your dirty hands to yourself.

Bundled in the narrow twin bed of the second room Alphonse listened to Ed's boots enter the apartment and stop. Hoped the welcome mat would catch all of whatever Ed brought in with him, and waited.

Damp and raw with disinfecting chemicals, the apartment smelled like an empty swimming pool. The stench was awful, but opening the windows made things unbearably frigid, and Alphonse had resigned to wedging small pieces of tissue into his noise. Embraced the fact his home smelled like the drain of a Clean Room, and reminded himself it was because his brother loved him.

His brother took his boots off, because his brother loved him. His brother walked softly through the apartment at a slow depressed speed and didn't shut the bathroom door behind himself, because his brother put him first.

Lying awake, and feeling strong at a comfortable ninety-eight degrees Alphonse listened to Ed brush his teeth, take a piss, and wash his hands and face, before entering his own bedroom. It was possible that Ed was so tired he was wandering to his bed so he could collapse face first, on top of the covers, and act as a corpse until morning. Or, as it seemed to be, Ed instead was changing quickly into clean pajamas before drifting to Alphonse's doorway as if the presence of the wall between their rooms puzzled him.

Alphonse smiled in the dark. He could hear what Ed was doing, and understood it. Barely any movement, slow even breathing: Sadness. Had the advantage of years trapped behind a viewfinder to the sensation of pressing his ear up against a wall. His senses were strong, stronger than his brothers, and although he didn't like to admit it, he worried his heart was as well.

Cheerfully Alphonse gave a peaceful sleepy sigh, and asked, "Long day, Nii-san?"

Ed didn't move, as Alphonse had anticipated, because Ed had been sure Alphonse was sleeping. "You don't want a shower?" Alphonse added. This was a guilty request, because things were cleaner with showers.

Ed approached the side of his bed, and Alphonse remained still. He didn't need to roll over and face his brother to understand things. Slower breathing, longer breaths: Worry. "Oh, I see," Alphonse said playfully. "It was a super long day than."

Ed grabbed the comforter with graceless aggression, yanked it up, and plopped down into the open space before covering himself. "Oh, I see," Alphonse said again, smiling towards his bedroom wall with Ed snuggling backward so their spines aligned. "You must have something bothering you with a day like that."

Ed elbowed his pillow as if it offended him. Jerking it up alongside Alphonse's and laid his head down. "Is it very important?" Alphonse asked, with genuine curiosity. Ed pulled the blankets to his shoulders. "It is, huh. Is it something you can tell me about?" Alphonse listened carefully. Slow exhale, long pause, slow inhale: Guilt and Dread. "Maybe you should tell the Colonel," Alphonse said, becoming worried.

That afternoon the Major had dropped by, and Alphonse was surprised anyone really knew where their new apartment was.

Major Armstrong brought them a bag of bagels. Tried to compliment the place when there was no easy way to do so, and chatted briefly. He was happy Ed's appeal went well, and encouraged them to call if they needed anything. Alphonse found it endearing, was appreciative, and not worried, until Armstrong paused in the doorway when exiting. Abruptly, and then hesitating with uncertainty he'd glanced back, hesitated again, and departed after the words, "Your brother loves you very much."

And Alphonse felt he was handed a draft notice for bad times to come. If it was one thing they had managed to screw up royally, it was love. Alphonse had to acknowledge that almost every event born of love's intensity within their life, brought about a strong destructive ramification.

He hadn't been able to manage a smile after Armstrong's words. He had stared, thoughts liquefying, anxiety rising. What was Ed doing that now meant his love was more apparent? That Elric love was somehow again on the table like a spice they kept thinking could be used, but needed to be left alone.

"Nii-san," Alphonse whispered. "Do you think the military would mind that we're sharing a bed like this?" Alphonse was curious as to where this question might take them. He was curious as to what else was on the table. Somehow it was big enough for the Major to know about, but terrible enough to keep a secret.

Dryly, and with a sense of exhaustion, Ed muttered, "I don't care what the military thinks."

"Oh, I see." Alphonse maintained his smile. Closing his eyes he felt the weight of Ed's body tipping the mattress behind his own. "You smell like the outdoors." He changed the subject.

"I walked home."

"You were working very late. Past office hours." So where were you?

"Not past office hours." I'm being vague on purpose. "I think Mustang was still there." Mustang was still there. Ed took a deep breath. "Alphonse," Ed changed his tone, and it changed the room. Even breathing, comfortable demeanor: Critical Thinking. "How warm are you right now?"

"Ninety-eight degrees."

Alphonse felt Ed's silence come like the slow closing of a door. The gradual decent of a curtain on a stage. So, another battle lost was it? Take a bow, you ignorant ass. "You were hypothermic?" Ed asked.

"I was hypothermic."

"And you're now improving?"

"I am now improving."

Ed's weight shifted uncomfortably. "I have a meeting tomorrow, early." Ed moved to a new topic, and Alphonse opened his eyes with perplexed curiosity. "It will last all day, and perhaps all night."

This was a lie, and Alphonse wasn't certain if Ed could tell that he detected it. Did Ed think he was lying well enough to fool them both? Or was he carrying out the motions so he didn't have to explain where he was later.

"I don't want you to worry, Al."

Alphonse remembered Major Armstrong standing in their apartment doorway, and in his memory Armstrong now repeated, I don't want you to worry.

"It's really not a big deal," Ed said, tone flat and unrevealing. The Major repeated these words flawlessly in Alphonse's mind. "You'll barely miss me." And I won't bring up how some days ago I had to be restrained so you could leave to Hawkeye's, and some days ago you were too weak to travel outdoors, and just yesterday you kicked me out for not acknowledging your equations when your equations were right. As always? Younger brother.

"Oh, good," Alphonse said flawlessly. "I'm glad you told me, or else I might have worried and not known where you were." Are you freaking serious.

The mattress shifted as Ed rolled onto his stomach. Across the bare bedroom floor was a faint white outline of the window as it took in the moonlight. To the right, a box of shadowed clumps needing to be put away. They didn't own enough furniture for two rooms, and the military moved them so quickly they weren't furnished with more than beds. It made cleaning the place easy, but it left a sad home.

Staring at the wall thinking of the mouthful of lies he was pretending to swallow, Alphonse felt Ed's slow anxiety-ridden breathing lowering Ed downward as if he were sleeping on the edge of a well, and Ed was in the bucket sinking into a dark black hole. "Nii-san," just like every time before in which he could, Alphonse grabbed the well's lever and cranked that little bucket back upward, "today I learned something new about you." Ed was silent, but he was awake. "I learned…" And how did you really say these types of things. "…that you like girl's… chests, more than their…butts."

Ed was unresponsive before a growing vibration took his chest and he turned his face into his pillow and began a low happy laugh, before croaking out, "What?" Alphonse said nothing and Ed managed a few more laughs before asking, "Their boobs? Are you asking if I like boobs?"

"I'm not asking," Alphonse said. "I'm saying today I learned that you do."

"Well, of course I do," Ed muttered, smile evident in his voice and buried half in his pillow. "What's not to like, I mean…" and then silence, before, "Wait, what the heck do you mean you learned this today? I wasn't even home."

"I found your pornographic imagery."

Ed cocked his elbow back, and Alphonse felt a fast scolding jab to the right of his spine, before Ed said, "You're saying it wrong, Alphonse." Gee-whiz, do I have to teach you everything? "It's called porn. That's it, that's how you say it. And it's only one magazine, and it was a gift, and it's not really porn because it's not all that pornographic, it's more suggestive." Alphonse began giggling and Ed glared at the floor. "Don't lie, when you found it you probably turned every page, drooling."

Still laughing. "Where did you get it?"

"That's classified." Alphonse pulled the blanket up to his mouth and covered a burst of gleeful exhales. "Where did you put it?" Ed asked flatly. It had been uprooted from beneath his other mattress, tossed into a box, carried in, and dumped on the floor. When your goal was Streptococcus, Bacillus, and all bacteria execution, one old and well-loved crumpled magazine of a few tits was the least of your concerns. "Planning on keeping it?" Ed teased.

"I put it away!" Alphonse cried, yanking the blanket down from his mouth. "I didn't want guests to see it, it's so terribly rude, and you left it right out in the open, Nii-san."

Ed gave a shrug, and Alphonse felt the mattress move under the force of Ed's automail shoulder. "It's my place," Ed said, with good natured defensiveness.

"Mine too," Alphonse said, feeling the optimism and peacefulness of a smile nearly identical to the one growing up Ed's face blooming on his own. "It is our apartment, Nii-san." Yes, it was. "And…we're still not listening to what everyone else thinks, and we're sleeping in the same bed again."

"Shut up."

"When the military would be so mad, and Roy probably told you not to."

"He never gave me any orders for all of this."

"Because he worried it was true?"

Ed fell silent and it hurt there was a bit of weight to that question. That for a moment, the mighty Colonel, the strong and fearless Colonel, was confused and unsure about something so character driven. "No," Ed said softly. Roy had lapsed, or perhaps the correct word was waivered under what looked like medical evidence, but he had never abandoned his post on the side lines. Was as determined as always, and putting this together as always. Was on the other end of the phone…as always. No matter how this all worked out, Roy would be there, and in an odd and frightening way, Ed felt good to know that blood on his hands would not change anything. It will all be okay, said the murderer to the murderer.

"Then why, Nii-san?"

"Because he's old, cryptic even, and set in his ways like all old fogies," Ed teased. "He's big on the honor thing, and he's too big a man to dishonor me like that."

9MM combat pistols were mass manufactured standard soldier issued weapons. Semi-automatic, with short recoil and a reversible magazine to fit any shooter, the parts were fully interchangeable, and the weapon was hard chromed and barrel bore to prevent corrosion and wear. Fully assembled and loaded it was a meager forty-one ounces. An amount so inconsequential for a weapon, Roy held one unnoticed in his uniform pocket, ammunition finger tracing the barrel in an absent back-and-forth for over twenty minutes before he considered freeing it.

At zero five hundred that morning, Ed had slipped out of bed and staggered his way to the bathroom. He showered with his forehead leaning into the wall. Brushed his teeth with his eyes closed. Stared at his flaccid penis after taking a piss and considered trying to rub one out just to feel better about the day, but the outlook for erections, just like everything else, was bleak.

Central's train station was Amestris's largest and grandest. Draw bridge to their most advanced and cosmopolitan urban concertation. With the sun just contemplating the horizon Ed entered the station as he was ordered. In slow confident steps he strolled the length of the tracks, hands in his pockets, hood up and draped about his face. His ticket was in his pocket, no other possessions were packed.

Inside the massive station dome birds nested in the high beams. Crafted with alchemy, the arching frame was elegant and powerful. Arriving trains became dwarfed, while those departing fired into the rolling green hills of the Amestrian country side beneath a stroking expansion of sky.

In the early hours the platforms were near empty. The train, not yet present for boarding, and standing motionless before the platform edge and open tracks, staring at his feet, Ed lifted his gaze and looked toward the brilliant arching mouth of the station when a shadow suddenly kicked back.

Standing at the tip of the departure platform, staring out at the country side, was a tall single figure, and Ed relished a quiet smile when even at such a distance, he recognized the frame.

"Do you know," Roy didn't wait for Ed to arrive to speak. "I haven't even eaten yet?"

"But look at this, you managed to dress yourself." The breeze on the lip outside the docking platform was kind, and Ed left the long black carpet of Roy's shadow and stopped at his side. "All fancy too." Roy was dressed for work. Uniform crisp. "You could have worn you pajama pants and slippers."

Roy sniffed with humor. Warm fronts were coming up from the South East with spring and the noise of the station fell to the expansive wind of the county side.

"You didn't have to see me off," Ed said softly, feeling foolish. They both knew it was appreciated.

"I'm not seeing you off."

Ed glanced at Roy. His eyes felt fat in the early morning hours. Hair limp in its damp state. "What," Ed asked, clueless, "you mean like, cause you're not actually looking at me?" He gestured to the glimmering crest of sun owning Roy's gaze.

This comment made Roy laugh softly, and he looked down at his youngest subordinate and remembered when Ed was younger still, and could run about below the train windows and scare Hawkeye into thinking he hadn't yet arrived. "What did you tell your brother?"

"That I have a meeting."

"Who with?"

"I didn't say."

"He didn't ask?"

Ed gave a slow shake of his head and moved his eyes back out to the world. The tracks ran until they became thin slivers of darkness in the earth. "No, he knew I was lying, but he didn't ask what I was particularly lying about."

"I almost liked him better in the armor," Roy teased, beginning a guilty chuckle. This wasn't exactly an exaggeration.

"That's not funny, Roy." The clock on the docking platform was a large white faced moon. Minute hand crawling to the nearest hour and far too close already. "I have a hotel room they booked for me, but I'm not going to use it. It's at the Corner Inn, the room is for three nights." Roy didn't say anything. "I'm not booking one so I am going to be creative and stay under the radar. I don't trust anyone." And why should we.

Roy pulled his left hand from his pocket and extended a small bit of note paper. With his right he continued stroking the barrel of his 9MM.

Ed took the note and read the small handwritten list with a look of confusion. Ranging from basic beer to common and cheap liquor, there were seven listed types, and all of them familiar. "What are you, an alcoholic?" Ed stared at the list and felt the familiar looming intelligence of his commanding officer sweep over him from his childhood. "Is this your grocery list?" From a time when his pocket watch was heavy for his younger body, and Mustang was somehow so good at anticipating his predictable actions when he though they were spontaneous.

Roy gave another humored snort, but his eyes didn't leave the scenery. "Someone needs to educate you on Top Shelf brands, Fullmetal." Roy looked over, expression amused. "When you get back, we'll add a decent bottle to that list. My treat."

"Oh ho," Ed teased, pocketing the list quickly, and uncomfortably. "Now I know things are serious." His gaze felt too heavy to lift, and Ed stared at his feet. From behind them, his entering train screamed a long friendly whistle, and Ed felt his stomach drop. As soon as he was onboard there was no turning back. There was only this mission. And Alphonse. So why was it so hard to choose?

"I didn't come here to give you some sappy send off," Roy said, abruptly abandoning the countryside and turning to face Ed. The chug of the barreling locomotive was roaring, and the smoke was puffing upward into the dome where it was meant to collect in gray rain clouds. "I brought you something, and it will dampen the mood, but you need to take it."

Wind came streaming into the platform, and Ed's jacket picked up about his thighs and flattened to him like a sail. Roy's bangs blew back against his forehead, but his gaze was unfaltering.

Behind Ed, the mammoth body of his docked train came to rest, steaming. It's gleaming metal and wind-smoothed body an unstoppable force propelling him toward a fate he wasn't sure he could accept. Had committed, firmly, to granting himself every possible minute and opportunity of deliberation to be certain that what he decided to do, could be done. That Alphonse was worth it, and he understood, truly understood, that his protests would not be received as heroic, but irrelevant. The mission reassigned. The target taken out. Him, forgotten. Rotting and hungry in a military prison. As the train pulled away he would rush on, fully committed, or he would not, and with fear driven piss down his thigh he would return to the General with resolve. Until the very last moment he could decide.

"It doesn't have to be personal," Roy said, and his voice was just audible over the idling train. What few passengers were boarding stepped on quickly, and the whistle screamed.

Ed stepped closer to its smoking body and took hold of a support rail leading in, feeling uncertain.

A second train pulled into the station, breaks squealing, and announced itself with a brass bell. Roy took this opportunity to pull his gun from his pocket. In the white gloves it looked like a stain, and Ed was offended as it came towards him. Roy was doing more than offering it, and he came forward, grabbed the side of Ed's red coat, and stuffed it into the boy's pocket.

"You understand," Roy said softly, leading to Ed's ear, bangs flapping in the wind. "Why you want to use a bullet." Because he was a soldier. The soldier he never thought he would be, the soldier Mustang was so certain he could stop him from becoming.

"Now remember!" Roy called, pressing Ed onto the train, black strands blowing about his fierce eyes, and rigid expression. "Don't…" and then the train screamed, and the Colonel's mouth kept moving, and what he said was lost below the high pitched squealing, the chug of the steel wheels, and burning of the coals.

What he said was nothing but a few soundless mouth movements, and Ed nodded fiercely, with full commitment. He would listen to the Colonel. He would listen. He would do as he was told if from no other mouth than this mouth.

"Okay!" Ed called back. "I'll remember!"

Wow….what can I really say.

An unprecedented and unexpected break in my posting – apologies, apologies, apologies, to everyone! Although I wasn't expecting to drop off the planet on this chapter, I hope you were glad to see it and enjoyed, since it's…well, let's face it, what I was required to post since it was the next chapter! – Really, I'm just so glad you guys weren't left hanging anywhere cruel! Again, I'm so sorry for this never-before MIA. There is no reason to think it will ever happen again.

Please feel free to leave a review sans any mention of this story/chapter and rightfully complain. -_^

Chapter 14: Ducks In A Row, will be posted August 11, 2017.

I will be there. Promise.

Short Explanatory Rant Feel free to skip as it will discuss nothing about this story.
For those of you who would like an explanation for all, be prepared, this rant is honest.

It all started with the long, oh my god so long, birth of my closest, absolute closest friend's first son, (he's healthy and so adorable), and then life was suddenly too chaotic to organize immediately. It just gets away from you! My job continues to be so wildly demanding, and I've been traveling for work, and simultaneously am now writing a Soul Eater piece titled, The Moon and The Fish, which I'm very excited about. (I know, right? Soul Eater of all things, good grief. Netflix anime is like poison! If I get home too late and sleepy, and the next thing I know I'm on the couch, like: why not, we'll watch this, its right here, who cares, and on goes, anything!) So without boring you with any granular details, which are complicated and plenty, this is a high altitude summary, which most likely makes my absence seem entirely unjustified and pathetic – but it is what happened.

To those of you who sent worried messages, I sincerely apologize to you. I wasn't managing my inbox during this time, and I feel guilty, honored, and grateful, anyone thought to worry about my welfare. With it perhaps sounding even less excusable I disappeared this way, I am safe, sound, and healthy. Thank you for the very kind words and wishes.

To make it up to those very kind souls I will post one of my absolute favorite FMA One Shots, titled, Pay A Person With Kindness, following this story in November 2017. I sincerely love this piece and encourage anyone who has liked any of my FMA stories to read it. As we near November I will reveal the exact launch date on my profile.

Again – apologies to all for the absence – great to be back!