NOTE: This chapter has been revised as of 29/09/09

-13-

They kept silent throughout the drive, their thoughts to themselves, their eyes avoiding each other's. Roy made his own dinner, much to Edward's surprise, before settling at the table and immersing himself in reading the sales reports from the office. Edward avoided the kitchen and kept himself in the empty living room by reading a thick book. After a few hours, Edward heard Roy emerge from the kitchen and head upstairs, and he managed to catch a quiet murmur of goodnight from the man.

The blonde remained on the couch and in the dark, the book now entirely forgotten. He was bedridden with guilt and shame and he occasionally cursed himself for being selfish and ignorant. He cursed himself again for having these emotions!

Despite knowing how angry, hurt and upset Mustang was with him, Edward's own emotions botheredhim even more. Why couldn't he stop feeling so damned ashamed? Why couldn't he bring himself upstairs and beg for the stupid bastard's forgiveness so he couldn't feel this bad anymore??

He stood up and turned towards the stairs – and the sight reminded him of the vision of a disappointed Mustang sauntering up those steps. Instantly, he froze in his tracks, feeling the wave of guilt come flowing back to him. He didn't want to face the man. No, he was just afraid of facing him – he didn't want to see those angry dark eyes on him, accusing him, framing him, shaming him. Edward held himself back, not sure what to do. A part of him needed to go upstairs and confront Mustang but yet he was afraid to. The other part urged him to stay down here so their distances stayed apart. But he felt that he didn't want that either … oh god … what the hell was he supposed to do!

He covered his face with his hands, feeling frustrated at the struggles with his emotions. Suddenly he wanted to get out of the house. He didn't want to remain downstairs or upstairs. He didn't want to remain inside. He rushed to the front door, grabbing his red coat and flinging it on. In a second, he was out of the apartment building and onto the open street.

OoOoO

Roy Mustang couldn't sleep. He had been awake for the past hour after turning off the kitchen lights and climbing up the stairs to go to bed. He had been lying under the covers with his eyes fixed on the ceiling, his thoughts circling repeatedly in his head. He didn't understand why he was so bothered about Edward. The persocom had indeed made him angry because of the stupid thing he did. And he was upset that Edward had done something behind his back. He wondered if he should explain to the persocom how he was feeling. After all, Edward was a persocom and wouldn't understand emotions unless explained.

Still, he marvelled at his ridiculous idea of trying to make the persocom understand how hurtful and disappointed he was. Why though? Why did he want to attempt so? Was it to hope that Edward would show compassion towards him? Or perhaps just gain some reaction to this? Had Roy not fully grasped the idea that Ed was a damn persocom?!

He thought he had heard the sound of the front door opening and closing. A second later, there was another sound of a door opening and closing. Roy blinked, realising that the first door had sounded from downstairs.

Edward...?

Edward!

He bolted out of bed and practically flew down the stairs, accidentally stumbling over a few steps. He found the living room and kitchen empty and he was suddenly aware that Edward's red coat, which previously hung from the coat hanger, was nowhere in sight.

A raw, sudden rush of panic hit him in the chest and he snatched up his own coat and boots, pulling them on and ran out the door and onto the empty street, cursing under his breath.

Why on earth did Edward leave? What crazy idea made him do this! Why? Why? WHY??!!

He kicked the base of the streetlamp hard, not really helping him with his problem and just earning him a bruise. Roy tried to clear his thoughts, tried not to panic, tried not to let the feeling of fear grip him. Edward shouldn't have gone far. The persocom could've gone to the city centre or the Library or …

His heart leapt up his throat when he saw a glimpse of blonde hair somewhere beyond the trees and barred gates that surrounded Central's Park. Heart pounding in his chest, he jogged into the still open park whose pathway was lit with small lamps (it was around eleven at night), his eyes locked on the figure sitting alone on a bench. As their distance closed, his pace slowed and he was able to distinguish the expression on Edward's face.

He paused, feeling his anger and panic die away. Edward was quiet, unmoving, his head down and his eyes fixed at the ring on his left finger. He looked utterly lost and miserable.

Roy was suddenly aware of how cold it was when a sudden gust of cold air rustled through him, startling his dark locks. He watched at the way Edward's blonde bangs fluttered about his cheeks before he silently sat himself down next to the blonde, feeling the warmth radiating from the persocom's body.

They sat still for a moment, not looking at each other but aware of the other's presence. Finally Roy spoke in a low voice, "You could've at least told me you were going out."

"I wanted some fresh air," the other replied without looking. "I didn't want to wake you up."

"I couldn't asleep anyway. And shouldn't you be recharging? I'm sure you're tired from all that hassle today."

Edward didn't answer to that. There was no need to. They fell into another pause. And then Roy spoke:

"I thought you ran away."

This time, Edward lifted his head in surprise and Roy took it as a sign to continue.

"I thought you just left, you know? And I found myself scared about it. I panicked and for a second, I hated you for leaving me like this. Then I hated myself for making you leave."

Edward's eyes widened, surprised that Mustang was really telling him this. A new sort of guilt came to him and he forced himself to respond to the confession, his voice quiet and apologetic:

"I ran out of the house…" he began. "Because I was afraid of facing you."

It was Roy's turn to be surprised. He turned his face to look at Edward.

The blonde let out a small chuckle, "I didn't know why. I wanted to apologize but I couldn't bring myself to see you. I don't know what your reaction would be. But at the same time, hesitating … hesitating just made it worse."

Edward's eyes met Roy's directly for the first time on that long night. It was reassuring and accepting at the same time. Their gazes lingered, expectant, as if they waited for the first one to speak. But there was no need for words. Their troubled wishes had been granted: Edward was definitely notleaving and Roy had accepted the sincere apology.

It was only when a small speck of white fluttered down from the sky and settled onto Edward's nose that made them break their eye contact. Roy and Edward glanced up at the same time to meet the sight of more snowflakes falling from the dark grey skies above them.

"It's snowing," Roy stated as he watched Edward's eyes shine with amazement and delight before the blonde held up his hands, metal and skinned, in order to let the snowflakes settle and melt on his palms. The persocom slowly closed his fingers over them and smiled.

"Mustang? I'd like you to help me with my investigation."

Roy smiled in return, feeling warm despite the numbness of his fingers. He rested his hand on Edward's shoulder and joined him in watching the snow flutter down around their bench in the quiet, serene park.

OoOoO

Despite his own paperwork, Roy decided that he needed help from Hughes concerning Edward's investigation. He and Edward were back on their normal routine – Edward complaining again about his lack of activities just staying at home and Roy having to put up with his annoying bickering early in the morning. Outside, the snow had build up to two inches, covering Central in a shimmering sheet of white.

Now Roy found himself in the company's Research Department, sitting on the sofa outside Hughes' office (because the man hadn't arrived yet) and before him was a desk where Hughes' new secretary sat. Roy had never seen her around before and she looked quite peculiar. With short, mousy auburn hair and green eyes hidden behind thick framed glasses, she looked jittery and nervous. The name plate sitting on her desk told him her name was "Scieszka".

Roy tapped his foot impatiently and glanced at his watch. He had come to work extra early today so he could catch Hughes and he was due back to his office at half past.

Hughes' secretary picked up a pile of papers and stood up to deliver them into Hughes' office. As she returned with another pile, she tripped, letting out a squeak, and fell onto the floor, sending papers scattering about and leaving her glasses askew from her nose.

Roy got up and asked if she was alright.

"Ah … I-I'm fine, thank you sir. I usually trip sometimes because I'm very clumsy," she chattered, fixing her glasses straight and proceeding to gather up the papers before moaning, "Oh no! They used to be in order! Now I have to sort them all out again!"

Roy blinked at her before offering to help. "Have you started work recently?" he small-talked politely.

"Oh yes, sir!" she piped up with excitement before her bright features crumbled, "I got fired before because I wasn't doing my job properly. You see, I used to work at the National Library organising references and records for the supercomputers. But I've always loved being in the Library's reading room. Being too long in there caused them to fire me. I needed the money to send to my mother, who is ill. So I decided to be a secretary and Mr. Hughes kindly hired me for it."

"Oh …" Roy uttered, surprised at the unexpected extended speech she had given him. He wasn't keen on having someone reveal that much about their lives on their first meeting. She was certainly a funny girl to be working here of all places. "So, you seem to have an interest in books if you loved the Library's reading room–"

"Of course!" she nodded with new excitement in her eyes. "Even though I've only worked there for two years, I've already read a quarter of the books in the reading room! All three hundred and eleven on the east wing! I wanted to continue but I've got my own books to read at home. I keep buying new ones all the time and it's hard to organize them. I have about five hundred and twenty-three books now and they won't fit my shelves so I had to put them around the house – although it's quite small so there's not much space to walk around–"

Just in time, Hughes strolled into the department with Elicia on his shoulder and saving Roy from listening to the rest of Scieszka's endless rattling. Seriously, who reads a quarter of the Library's books in two years? Who buys books that filled up their house?

"Oh hi Roy! Scieszka!"

"Good morning! Good morning! Good morning!" Elicia squealed, bowing cutely.

"Mr. Hughes! Elicia!" Scieszka jumped to her feet and dropping her papers onto the floor again. "G-good morning, sir!"

"So," Hughes averted his attention on his best friend. "What brings you here in the morning? It's rare of you to come and see me like this."

"I'd like a favour, Maes," Roy answered and the other man grinned.

"Well why didn't you say so? Come into my office!"

Hughes' office was slightly smarter than Roy's. A sofa and coffee table at one side, a large desk stood in front of a bookcase and a desk computer. At the other side of the room was a whiteboard with a graph scribbled on it in red marker pen, a few filling cabinets and a water tank. What was so distinguishable about this office were the photographs.

There were printed photographs of his family posted everywhere – on the coffee table and the desk, there were photographs in picture frames; on the walls were posters of the family together on holiday and on picnics; there was even an Elicia sticker stuck on the desk computer.

Indeed. The office sure did scream 'Hughes' alright.

"Like them? They're just adorable, aren't they? I've just printed the new digital pictures from the birthday party and they came out so great. I'm thinking of putting them here so I can gaze at how cute Elicia looked back there. You'd love that, won't you, Elicia?" he tousled his persocom's hair.

Roy sighed, sitting himself on the couch and Hughes finally let him speak.

"It's Edward," the dark-haired man said, crossing his arms. "He wants to find out who made him." From that, Roy explained what Edward had done, trying to hack into Military files for details on a persocom and searching for the advanced artificial emotions software program. Hughes looked surprised that Edward was able to do all this on his own and at the same time interested that Roy wanted to help him.

"So you want me to lend you guys a helping hand?" Hughes smiled, recognizing the determined look on Roy's face about this matter. "That's great! Of course I'll help! I'll keep an eye out on things. What do you want me to find out?"

Roy almost chuckled, "If it's possible to access Military persocom files from the last Civil War."

"Ah," Hughes rubbed his chin. "I'm sorry to say... You know as well as I do that Military files are off limits to us."

"Yeah but," Roy sighed. "If there was just a confirmation that a persocom with a 'free-will' program existed in the War …"

He knew it was going to be difficult. He thanked Hughes afterwards when he realised he had to go back to his office before Hawkeye would tell him off. Just as he passed Scieszka, he suddenly remembered something.

"Scieszka," he swiftly turned and the secretary startled from her work and out of her seat. When she picked herself up, she was blushing madly, "Y-yes, sir?"

Roy paused for a moment before speaking, "You said you organize references for the supercomputers when you still worked at the National Library, right? Did you also organize Military files?"

"U-um, yes sir, I was in charge of their past records and all but they really weren't quite interesting as –"

"Did you organize Military files on Amestris' past civil wars? Like the last one?"

"Yes sir, and –"

"Then I wonder if you could confirm something for me."

"Anything, sir. I have a photographic memory that I'm not sure if I should be proud of or not. Since reading is all that I do, I could remember many things and all … although I get teased for it. It's not as if –"

"Alright Scieszka," Roy reassured, not wanting to hear the very long, irrelevant answers. "Do you know of a persocom used in the War that had 'free will'?"

"Free will?" her green eyes widened behind her glasses. "A persocom with free will? In the War? Let me see … " she tapped her chin with a finger as her face screwed up in concentration. Roy's lips tightened, not sure if he was going to get an answer.

"I remember!" she suddenly piped up with excitement. "I remember a report stating that this persocom used in the War began to stop following orders. The files were extremely confidential though and protected. There was also a file confirming that that persocom was invented by a person with the initials 'TJM', although I don't know what they stand for."

He felt new confidence in having obtained the valuable information. "Do you remember anything else in that file?"

Scieszka looked thoughtful again before shaking her head, "I'm afraid not. The files tagged with those initials seem extremely important and private because they'd been heavily encrypted with a security code by Professor Gilleroy Creator."

"Professor Gilleroy Creator? The guy who makes those top security software programs? But he's not part of the Military …" Roy found it quite strange actually. Gilleroy Creator was known to be a very private person. He didn't seem like the sort of guy to get involved with encrypting Military files with heavy security.

He realised that it was all the information that he needed for now. He gratefully thanked the flustered Scieszka and returned to the office, only to meet the annoyed Riza Hawkeye with a fresh new pile of paperwork and Black Hayate, ready at her heels.

OoOoO

"The initials were 'TJM'."

"What?"

Roy blinked when he saw the alert expression forming on Edward's face when he returned home to inform the blonde of his exploits.

"Ed, what is it?"

Edward looked up at him, his eyes looking dangerously serious and determined. "I need you to come with me."

They left the house again and Roy followed Edward into the snow covered park. He struggled to catch up with the impatient persocom and the next thing he knew, he was standing in front of the black marbled memorial ring.

Edward pointed at one of the slabs, "See? 'TJM' stands for Timothy J. Marcoh who was a Military doctor and a computer expert. Who would've thought it was easy enough to figure that out?"

Roy was bewildered at this. Edward was right … who would've thought …

"So this Marcoh guy created the persocom with a 'free-will' program. Could it be possible that he made you?" Roy mused out loud.

"It could be. Hey, do you think I was the persocom in that war? I mean I have 'free will', right? And you said so before that you got me from a black market."

Roy looked at Edward who was excited and yet looked disbelieved at the same time. He admitted he enjoyed this actually. But one thing bothered him … why would Marcoh protect his persocom files so heavily? If he worked for the Military, his work would be used for their purposes and not be locked up like this.

"Too bad Marcoh's already dead, huh?" Roy sighed, looking up at the carving on the marble slab. "Then he could answer our questions…"

Edward suddenly tugged on his sleeve, his eyes were wide and he was grinning, "I know who we could ask instead."

"Really, Edward? Now who might that be?"

"Prisoner number 7906," the blonde announced triumphantly. "Zolf J. Kimblee."

OoOoO

The Central Prison was located at the far end of the city. It was a large square area consisting of many blocks and surrounded by high walls. Everywhere they turned, security guards strolled around the area with rifles poised in their arms. Even Edward felt the uneasiness in the air.

They were in the main building, waiting on the other side of the glass where they were allowed to speak to the prisoners through intercom. He and Edward had settled themselves in a pair of seats and watched as two prisoner guards dragged a grey uniformed clad Kimblee onto the seat facing them. Kimblee had grown a stubble and his loose dark hair curtained half his face. His amber eyes narrowed maliciously at Roy and when they switched to Edward, they filled with a dull hatred.

"Evening," Roy said, not sure how he should start. "I'm sure you remember us, Mr. Kimblee–"

"Why shouldn't I?" the man answered in a sarcastic tone. "After you dragged me back here, of course I remember you both."

"We'd like you to answer a few questions," Edward started, taking on a calm and stern approach that mirrored Roy's when the man was interviewed by Harrison at the Library. "It's about the Civil War ten years ago."

A slow, sick grin snaked up Kimblee's lips while the prisoner tipped his head back as if trying to recall the memories from the War. He chuckled lowly, "Yes, that. Was one of the best times of my life. The explosions, the shooting, the fighting – I was in charge of the bombing, y'know? Blowing up those enemies into pieces was the highlight of my days. So, what about it?"

"Do you know of a man named Timothy J. Marcoh?"

"Tim Marcoh, eh?" Kimblee nodded, examining his fingernails. "He was the softest of the lot. He didn't like fighting much. Don't know why he signed up for the Military anyway … he didn't particularly like me and all."

"He made a persocom that was used in the War, right?"

At once, Kimblee's face that was previously cool and careless became dark and angry. His amber eyes focused on Ed's and the persocom shrank back at the hatred contained in those eyes. Roy decided to take over the questions.

"What do you know about this persocom, Mr. Kimblee?"

"Know?" Kimblee laughed coldly with no hint of amusement in his voice. "I know a lot about that piece of trash. He was made into a soldier, like us. The Generals saw him as perfect because he could do all these things. He was in our unit as well and we went on undercover missions to reduce our enemies. He was one noisy sonuvabitch, always questioning about things – why are we at war? Why are we killing others? What is the point of all this? And we keep tellin' him it's because we have orders and we had to obey.

"And what exactly does he say to that? What's the point of having free will when all we do is obey pointless orders? He was like Marcoh – didn't approve of him slaying others, didn't like it when I blow up things. He said it hurts him inside, it made him feel guilty to think that what he was created for was to destroy. So finally, he got up and went against us, went against orders. He had enough of this, of us, of himself – I remembered he confronted Marcoh and asked him why he was given emotions and free will while all we did with ours was abuse them..."

"Wait, he had emotions?" Roy echoed his words in alarm. Beside him, Edward's eyes had widened too. A stray thought rolled across his mind as he glanced at the blonde: The persocom...could it be...?

"I nearly got killed because of him. We were ambushed one time and the enemy was about to pull a trigger on me. I ordered that damn persocom to stop the enemy, to shoot and kill him but he just hesitated. I had to fight my way out afterwards – yelled at him because he nearly let me die. He said he hesitated because he knew when he pulled the trigger, he was going to see bloodshed. And he didn't like it at all. Stupid, stupid shit …"

Amber eyes were narrowed into slits and his upper lip was lifted into a snarl. He continued in a low voice, "Heshouldn't have been made at all. If being human is too much to handle, if feeling hurt all the time is too much, then he's just better off being dead. Eventually he did. He left us and rumours say that he destroyed himself. I was furious at this. I still had a damn score to settle with that guy. But he just left! That coward!"

Kimblee's face darkened even more when he finally spoke in a chillingly cold hiss, "I should've killed him when I could … that bastard, Scar."

end chapter

Notes:

I could get used to this. Oh dear – Scar and Kimblee as old pals? Marcoh created Scar? What sort of crazy ideas am I thinking!

I finished writing this in one night actually. The first part of this chapter – another RoyEd moment - originally wasn't in here when I planned this chappie up but I decided I wanted to continue the angst. They both sorta hurt each other in a way (more of Ed hurting Roy's feelings than the other way around) but you get the point. You could notice that both of them was scared about something referring to each other but it turned out okay in the end. I just had to put that snowing scene in! I remembered watching the second FMA ending and the snowflakes scene was stuck in my head all day. I loved this part!

Aanyway: -

New people: Scieszka, Marcoh, Scar.

Old stuff from previous chappies being used here: Marcoh's memorial and Kimblee. Of course I introduced them earlier for this! Notice how the technique seems familiar - come on, people! They didn't introduce us Lior in the first episode for nothing! It wasn't as if they didn't reintroduced Shou Tucker and Barry the Chopper in later episodes!

I also loved describing Hughes' office! I could just picture all those family photographs plastered everywhere! Bless him!

I'd love to hear your comments on this chapter! 'Till next update!