A/N: At this rate, I'm going to wind up employing every loophole in the book to keep this fic within the confines of the challenge. This time it was a combination of internet troubles (how does uni, home and the local library all lose their internet for a week at the same time?!) and exams. I've got more in a month, but I must get back to writing more regularly. Uni's even crazier without it.

Initially, this was the end of the second arc – but then Roy stumbled over the skeleton in the closet and things snowballed. But we're on the last leg of this arc nonetheless, and then another timeskip and into the main year of the story. Probably a good time to rewatch FMA too.

Flame and Fullmetal
Chapter 25 – Ordinary Days

They were all relieved to be back at Eastern Command. They'd escaped another full-blown war, another massacre, and things moved on like the Creta border hadn't come close to being nuked. Murmurs of it becoming the new Ishbal rose up, then died when the Crichtons and the rebel fraction succeeded in straightening out the government. The pile of bodies that were burned or buried – they were forgotten, numbers on a page and nothing more.

Roy went through the papers. Lots of letters and he's not sure why they're doing this. Filling in names of the dead so they can be sent to the families who'll never see said loved ones again. 'Could be lots of reasons,' Fullmetal shrugged, when asked. 'My personal favourite is that it reminds us of our own mortality, or own imperfections – that we're not Gods and we'll never be.'

'Oh?' There was an unnatural bitterness in those words. And a warning to not ask more. He heeded it, for now. He knew Fullmetal preferred to talk about things in his own way and time. 'And your worst?'

'We're dogs of the military and they're just tightening the leash,' Fullmetal snarked. Now there's a slight smirk on his face, but equally bitter. 'Be thankful you're not playing courier.'

'You're not either.' But Roy wasn't entirely sure about that. It was unlikely. Commanding officers tending to have more things to do and Fullmetal hadn't touched his research all week – which was an impressive accomplishment. He'd also been going home at reasonable times, not drinking as much coffee – being normal, all things considered. Not skiving off on paperwork, but not making the extra effort to see it all done early, either.

And yet he'd still wander in, sleep pulling his eyes like a teenager who'd stayed up late playing around with their friends – or studying, or researching – of course. Roy shook his head. Fullmetal was probably doing his research at home, wherever his home was.

'So what am I doing?' he asked, 'if not playing courier? And who is playing courier?'

'No-one from out department.' He didn't answer who. Maybe he didn't know, or didn't care. 'And you've got evaluations coming up, so you're officially on a study break to do something about that.'

'Evaluations?' Roy repeated, confused.

'Didn't I explain this before?'

'…no, you didn't.'

.

Evaluations turned out to be a yearly assessment, basically making sure the State's alchemists still deserved to be State Alchemists. A fashion show for the alchemists, as Fullmetal had succinctly put it. Research or some sort of presentation.

Which left Roy scrambling through all his research notes, wondering what could be suitably impressive to a council that had the audacity to be disappointed when the war with Creta had been resolved without too much bloodshed, and yet wouldn't result in him winding up showing himself off as the next Crimson Alchemist. Not that he wanted to be anywhere near that guy.

Okay, that's probably an overdramatisation. But a year under Fullmetal's command and, particularly, their time in Creta, had shown how much more fulfilling it was to take the bloodless approach. But there was still the question of his research, and he wished Fullmetal had thought to mention this before so he'd have had more time…

More time where? he wondered to himself. It was always missions, chasing criminals who liked to sully the good name of alchemy or, most recently, dancing in a war. Not a whole lot of time to entertain little side-projects, and most of those projects were things Fullmetal had sent him down anyway. Practical things, like alternatives to his gloves, ways to dodge his weakness to water, ways to use other forms of alchemy along with it… But nothing earth-shattering that would prove to the board why he should continue to be employed as a State Alchemist. And it wasn't like the war had showed off his alchemy skills to get him out of it either.

He sighed. Maybe he'd come up with an idea another day. At least he wasn't likely to be sent off on an assignment with his evaluation coming up.

Which reminded him…

.

'When is your assessment?'

Fullmetal waved his hand at a stack of papers, and Roy looked over, almost missing the scowl that danced across the other's face. 'I dug my own grave with it,' he elaborated, seeing the confusion as Roy looked at the detail on biological alchemy. 'The military sees something they can use, and they'll drain the resources dry without a care of what it can mean.'

He sounded bitter, Roy reflected. Bitter like when he'd talked about the homunculi. 'I suppose that's a warning for me, as well,' he sighed. 'Don't dangle a bite of carrot or they'll want the whole thing.'

'Makes it tough to decide what to do about the evaluation, huh.' He sounded sympathetic. Probably was, considering he couldn't take that route himself. 'Lot of things you can do,' he continued. 'Show off your control with that pair of new and improved gloves, show off a few combinations, try not to make anything that'll come out too explosive…'

'Put on a circus show.' Roy snorted and shook his head. 'This hardly sounds evaluation-worthy.'

'Doesn't have to be a research paper,' Fullmetal shrugged. 'There are quite a few sparring matches. Grand's one of the most popular ones.' He grinned a little and looked up. 'There's an idea. Flame against the Iron Blood Alchemist. Think you can handle it?'

'Brigadier General Grand?' Roy checked, before shaking his head. 'Are you crazy?' He already knew the answer, of course. But only his seventeen year old commander would actually ask something like that.

And the boy – still a year away from adulthood – seemed to pout, too. 'Pity,' he remarked. 'Would've been interesting.'

'We might have been collecting the Major in a body bag,' Havoc laughed. 'Why not Major Armstrong?'

'Why not?' Fullmetal agreed. 'Of course, it's your evaluation.'

Which had escaped from his control, apparently, but a spar seemed doable. 'So I just need to show off my fighting skills, mostly alchemy and in a creative and combat-friendly manner?'

'Feel free to use combinations with your opponent too,' said Fullmetal. 'If they think you work well together, they might send you out together on missions too. Unlikely, since you're on my team, but…' He shrugged.

'We've been vetoing some of those,' Havoc reminded.

'Semantics,' the boy shrugged roughly.

Roy blinked. 'You've been…filtering my mission orders?'

'Of course,' Fullmetal snapped, before Havoc could say anything. He stuck a pen in his mouth instead. 'I won't have my men being strung around like they're disposable pieces any more than they have to.'

'Of course, you're free to choose,' Havoc interjected, as though Roy was insulted – and he didn't really know. Was he? He needed to think about that one. And a few other things too. 'This was just easier in the short term. Show you the world on our terms, and with the border war you've pretty much seen it all.'

'I…see.' Or he would, once things slowed down a bit. 'I'll need a bit of time to think on things.' Or a lot of time. 'I'll let you know what I decide with the evaluations.'

.

Madame Christmas' bar was always a good place to think…and get some motherly advice from the woman that was as close as his mother to him. Not that he really needed some advice. Just a nice drink and some quiet – the sort of quiet where everyone's talking around him but not to him, and his aunt knew when to leave him be like that.

And so he mulled over things. The more he thought about it, the more reasonable a sparring match with Major Armstrong sounded. It would be a far cry from sparring Fullmetal, but since he was yet to come close to beating his short commander, he might have better luck with someone of the opposite build. Or learn a few things, anyway. And he really didn't have any research he wanted to put forward.

Which led to the next thing. What was so interesting about biological alchemy that the higher-ups more or less forced Fullmetal into handing them his research? From what he'd gathered, he'd gotten caught doing something or other and was now stuck. Gotten caught researching. Alchemy. And that mess with the homunculi earlier on. What had Fullmetal told him then? Something about human transmutation, and not getting too close to God –

Maybe it was the alcohol that made it all click into place with a rather crazy solution.

.

'Uhh…Lieutenant Colonel –'

'Did you just call me "Lieutenant Colonel?"' Fullmetal all but growled.

That only made Roy flounder more. In rights, he shouldn't have been floundering in the first place, but it couldn't be helped. His drunken theory was stubbornly persisting and he'd rather get it off his chest.

But Fullmetal was very sensitive to certain topics, and he was sure this was one of them.

'Just spit it out.' Fullmetal was still scowling at him.

Deep breath, Roy. He took one, and it did steady him. 'Are you researching human transmutation?' he asked, then in belated surprise noted his words hadn't slurred together in their hurry.

Fullmetal stared at him, his bright gold eyes rapidly darkening. Not anger though, as he'd expected. A deep, dark sadness he couldn't even pretend to understand.

He understood when the other's hands moved. The flesh one clasped the automail shoulder. The other clasped the automail knee. Two limbs lost in an accident. Lost in foolishness, Fullmetal had once said.

Fullmetal smiled, a smile more full of bitterness than he'd seen before on him. 'The ultimate taboo,' he said quietly. 'I did it. Twice'.