A/N: I read this chapter and edited it so many times that I don't feel like doing the final edit...

DISCLAIMER: Oops. When was the last time I put one of these up? FullMetal Alchemist; Ingredients: Hiromu Arakawa, Aniplex, BONES, Square Enix. Each consists of natural directors, musicians, voice actors/actresses, editors, producers, animators, designers, engineers, etc. Note: FullMetal Alchemist was conceived in a factory where no artificial ingredients (as in me) exist. Artificial flavors CEASE TO EXIST.

Chapter 36

CodeWord Operations Don't Always Have To Do With Secrecy or the Powers-That-Be

Roy Mustang wandered through the hallways of Central Headquarters wanting just to go into his office and... sleep. He didn't feel like doing paperwork to be honest and all he wanted to do was sleep. If it was possible, roy would much rather just walk into his FOQ and just... sleep. He spent all of four hours at that meeting and an extra hour working in Ishbal for establishing more specific guidelines for the rebuildment.

Mustang couldn't sleep on the train either. After what happened on his way to Ishbal, how could he? Corsair and himself were in separate compartments on the way back and no later than twenty-minutes after the shoot-out, all the wounded were evacuated, leaving Mustang's entourage six persons short. Some soldiers were ordered beforehand to take the place of the to-be-awarded Purple Heart military policeman.

Mustang took a more secret and direct route to his office to avoid the rear echelons and the soldiers whom would be found standing at attention, especially when Mustang just had to walk and forge a path toward his office. He soon approached his office, walked psat the sitting room, and entered his office. He walked some ten meters to his desk, sat down in the most expensive leather office seat Central City had to offer, and literally fell face first into his paperwork just so he could use it as a makeshift pillow.

4 Days Later; 1547; Central HQ; Command

Riza Hawkeye stepped into Mustang's office for the tenth time that day. One of her earlier visits, she had knocked under the usual strit protocal rule. Under military conditions, it was needless to say she had to knock, in spite of the fact that she earned more medals, awards, and certificates than the majority of those her pay grade. But after all, she was just a lieutenant and regualer communications between low class officers and Commander-inchieves as of a day to day basis was practically one hundred million to one. It would take a strong bond for an upper echelon to consider a company grade officer.

Having knocked earlier in that week, upon hearing of his arrival from MP Cpl. Jacoby Whitcomb four days earliers, Mustang had not answered immediately, half-way worrying the el-tee. But using the patience she gained through her experienced in the LID , she waited, she knocked, waited , and knocked once more. Mustang by then answered gruffly with a "Come in", which followed a half-intimate lecture on knocking when it was obvious she did not have to.

Riza took the advice of the CINC and abided by his strong suggestions and walked in without even a brief knock. She found him asleep on his desk. His right cheek matted to his desk since his face was directed to the left wall- the I LOVE ME! wall (the wall of personal awards)- away from the sunlight. His hair, damp with sweat, stuck to his forehead and only a few strands hung loosely.

Hawkeye sighed and strut over to the man's desk. Somehow finding an open spot on the oak table, she slammed her fist down, sounding off, "Eighth time, sir!"

The struck Mustang like lightning and he bolted upright in his seat, stammering, "Huh?"s and "Wha?"s. He wiped his brow and ruffled his hair back. It dropped back over his eyes. "Oh, Riza."

"Sir," she started.

"Roy," he corrected. "First name basis when we're alone."

"Working environment."

"Fuery's on vid patrol. He knows to block the stream so no one could hack my office."

"That's not what I'm concerned about, Roy." Roy furrowed his brow as she continued. "I'm concerned about you. You and your condition and your well-being."

"Don't worry about it, Riza. I'm fine. There's nothing to worry about. I'm just a little... fatigued is all it is." Roy yawned. Perfect timing, Mustang.

Riza sighed. "So long as you don't kill yourself, all right?"

"Why would I kill myself when I have you to do that?"

"Because you know I'd never really do that."

"Yeah. You make it so dangerously close that the millimeter between the bullet and my head is what makes the dissimilarity between your promises and threats."

"You're trying to sound complicating."

" 'Try' is the keyword, isn't it?"

"Always has been."

"Ouch, Sniper."

"Take it like a man."

"I'll take it like a CINC."

Riza sighed as she handed Roy a bottle of water, which she retrieved from downstairs. "You know I'm not here to act as your flirt toy, right?"

Flirt toy, Roy scoffed in his head. "You're here for business."

"What's going on with the-"

"We finally have a codename," said Mustang. "Calling it TABLEAU. Raven came up with it."

"So what's going on with TABLEAU?"

"As I know, Cafferty is up fourteen points by government standards of the last." Riza gave a small look of displeasment. "But I follow second to his with an eight point range. As of the media's and public's decisions, it's still unknown whether or not we're going to release TABLEAU to the public.

"The public might go better or worse in anyone's case," he continued. "As Edward said those long years ago, 'there would be no justification in the eyes of the public' or something like that. The way I appeared to have committed treason." Damn it; I hate that word. "I killed a leader. And there is nothing in satisfaction for that."

Riza stopped him as she stared with deep seriousness in his eyes. "If there was not a thing that came out for discovering Bradley, then what is with the office?"

Roy shrugged. "Okay, so I happened to come across a promotion for actually doing away with Bradley- a huge promotion. But that's probably as far as the powers-that-be will see it. I murdered a leader, despite the fact that he was a war hungry tyrant of a dicatator. This promotion they gave me eighteen months ago is their way of saying 'thanks for killing the idiot who decided to scar your life and ours with Ishbal'. I have nothing more to say to that."

Mustang rolled his chair away from his desk and skidded over to the adjoining left wall. There was a safe hidden there and it was blatantly obvious to any burglar, but nevertheless it was still a safe. He undid the code without hesistation (that was the easiest way to unlock combinations, to not hesitate, Mustang thought) and pulled a few file folders in there.

It read TABLEAU on the tab in big, black, block, bold letters. There were four folders, three (one each) for the possible candidates and one for the briefings. He tossed them on the desk. There were other folders- not just the four. "Speaking of TABLEAU, I need someone to write up it's progress."

"Consider it done, sir."

"Roy."

"Sir."

"Whatever, Riza." Roy waved his hand. "I don't want you working on my stuff from now on, all right?" Hawkeye looked alarmed by Mustang's statement. "I've put too much on you and I've never gotten anything but you're love in return."

Riza smiled fondly at him. "I'll do it anyways."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"Riza."

"Sir."

"Roy."

"Sir."

"Dammit!" yelled Roy. "You're good. Anyhow, I'll have more information on TABLEAU this upcoming week when I have to go to this weeks' worth of meetings. From what I've been briefed on, it's already been revealed to the surrounding countries and they're willing to work on it with us once the treaty that's being established is finally set up."

"What treaty?"

"The Treaty of... Hell, they didn't tell me the name. I think it's going by WINDPIPE- codename anyways. The feds are working on it with Drachma, Creta, and Xing. It's intended to inculcate peace on all sides of the nations through and through. The countries seem to lack numbers and arms in their borders and we're willing to work with them and exchange our forces and arms for their peace. At first, the 10th Division- it's a new one under Major General Harpert's command will be sent out there to ensure the peace in the country for Drachma, while the 28th and the 208th are sent otu to either Creta or Xing- it's still undecided though.

"All countries will support with their own military or paramilitary involvement and ensure the peace as well. All religious leaders not thrown aside: each country's parliaments is more than likely having to discuss with their religious leaders- the Curians, Kafers, Huberans, Marhks, Purlians- all of them, all the religions are discussing this. My meeting tonight will be the debrief on what each Amestrian representative has and the apparent opinion."

"Should I really be knowing this?"

"Of course, Riza. Having doubts?"

"No, sir. It's just that... I don't believe that I'm qualified in all the tests and surveys for knowing this. Lest you forget, I'm only a first lieutenant, light infantry, currently working here at Headquarters rather than at Camp Pensington because you moved my division here."- purposely, she failed to add.

"Guilty as charged. But don't ever denounce yourself to just a first lieutenant, Riza."

"If you feel so strongly about it, why don't you just give me a promotion," she said with light humor.

"You've been an el-tee for ten years... I'll consider it."

"I was joking, sir."

Not that I can ever tell, Roy didn't mention as he smiled sensitively. "My briefing's at twenty-oh. If all goes well, I'll have to send out telegrams to Harpet at Fort Richards', Parkerson at Fort Osbon's, and Weston at Halvaty."

"Wouldn't having our troops inside lines give the pretense of a hostile, terrorist environment rather than having the initiative of having our soldiers there for the sake of peace?"

Mustang tugged on his collar after setting his half empty bottle on the desk. "Probably. I was going to bring that up at the conference. It is a little high on something like 'keeping the peace'." Mustang bunny-eared his fingers. "I'll try to get an answer, but there's no guarantees that we're pulling our to-be deployed troops into a supposedly non-hostile territory after the finalization of WINDPIPE."

"What about ALMANAC?" She meant Ishbal.

"ALMANAC ONE"- that was it's rebuilding- "is progressing at a positive rate. Randell, the man in charge of ALMANAC ONE, has a division of construction workers from maintenance working on the capital and another expeditionary unit is en route as we speak. They've all past through the security paperwork to be able to go into ALMANAC ONE and they're going to come out saying nothing. It's supposed to take at least five years on the capital and a possible fifty years on the rest of the region. Their family's been notified and have also gone through security procedures.

"A unit of State Alchemists are going in to speed up the process. It might cut the budget in half and even better, cut the time in half too." Mustang smirked at himself. "Armstrong's among them. I'm having his Executive Officer take over for his regiment- some guy named Goodsen or other."

"What about the furlough?"

"Everyone's getting their break. Some might be lucky enough to have it during the three-week leave like everyone else. The rest of them will be dispatched some other time." Considerate about everyone else and their fair share of fun, are we?

"ALMANAC TWO"- the treaty with Ishbal- "is, as far as I know, also radiating off a positive reaction. 'Master', as he is so commonly called, is working with the capital district, while others who have assumed the role of leader for whatever clan they represent." Needless to say, there were only a handful of Ishbalans that have lived from the annihilation that happened about a decade ago. "We fully support in their return to society. The Halocaust of the Ishbalans is something that one could never forgive, but since the movement after Bradley's reign, charts show that the Ishbalan population has increased dramatically over the last three years, so it is safe to assume that they will make a successful comeback into the region. The treaty is still being worked up by the Congress."

Roy closed the file folder marked ALMANAC. He grabbed his other folders marked WINDPIPE and TABLEAU and stalked over to the vault. Returning, he plumped down in his chair and swallowed the last of his plastic water bottle. He crumpled it and tossed it in the trash bin a meter from his desk.

"Tired, sir?" Hawkeye remarked. Mustang ignored the protocol.

"I just want to sleep. Thank God that the furlough is less than two weeks away now." Mustang turned his head toward his Executive Officer. "You ready for it?"

If you're expecting me to accept you as pervert, then no, I'm not ready. "Depends," was her answer.

"I always depends," Mustang sneered. "I know you've been striving for the twenty-four hour day to get cut in half, so by now, we'd be just about on the furlough." He leaned back in his chair. Hawkeye saluted, signaling her time to depart.

"I'll see you later, Riza. You're dismissed."

"Thank you, sir."

"Love ya, babe." Hawkeye stopped in her tracks. Her eyes wandered to the right so she could peer to the right corner, then continued walking, as if she did not hear anything.

Mustang laughed at himself, then sighed.

1629; Central City; Elric Barracks

"General Shit-head, my ass. Shit-head is better than a shit-head like him deserves," Ed ranted, stretching his black coat on. It was going to be his first day back to HQ ever since the big "wall to wall counseling". His automail had been replaced, breaking the record he had kept it in shape for just less than a few months.

"Brother..." started Al.

"Shut up and let's go." Ed pocketed his watch and grabbed his keys. "Winry, keep watch of the place. You're not going out till six-thirty, right?"

"Yeah," was the Rockbell's reply.

"You never know when a fire could break out. Damn CINC."

The Elrics arrived at HQ without any disturbances. Ed parted to the Central HQ Library, which was just as big as the city's library, claiming that he had to do some research about a non-national alchemist and his doing. He had to scout out fifty miles east of Central City to set the goof straight. His trip was planned ten days before the vacation.

Al, meanwhile, was abandoned and decided to check up on the usual bunch of men who worked primarily for Mustang.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Alphonse apologized, bumping into a male officer. He appeared to have come from some jogging- a ten mile jog actually- and sweated rapidly. He breathed heavy. Coming up behind him was a platoon of other men, sweating.

Zunis shook his head. "I wasn't watching where I was going." Zunis looked down. It was the first time he got an actual look at this kid. "Hey, kid, how old are you?"

"Sixteen."

"What the hell're ya doin' on soldier soil? Kids shouldn't be running around this place."

"No, no." Elric waved his hands. "I have authorization. I'm a potential state alchemist. I come here on a regular basis with my older brother, the FullMetal Alchemist."

Zunis wiped some sweat off his forehead. "Sorry, kid. My bad. So, what, you got some sort of an internship?"

"Er, yes, sir. You could call it that."

"Hmph. Then where's the FullMetal runt?"

"My brother's doing some research in the library. I normally just observe activity, acting as one of those low-pro kids who gain information. Sometimes I report to Marshal Mustang."

"Marshal Mustang?"

"Uh-huh."

"I know he takes people under his wing, a lot, but you're still a kid. Then again, FullMetal was twelve when he got taken under Mustang's command- and Mustang was a... colonel, I believe."

"Yes, sir."

" 'Scuse me, kid. I have to work with my company. We're doing PT right now."

"Physical training?"

"Yup. They're all grads, but it's how I work. What's your name?"

"Alphonse Elric, sir. Al works fine."

"Well, let me tell you something Al Elric- if you think you're cut out for an officer, plain truth is that you probably aren't. Run some few good miles, due a few sprints, beat your face with push-ups, hike for a freak amount of time with some weights, and maybe you'll cut out. But don't forget, kid, officers are officers and we gotsta act like 'em, Y'dig?"

"Sir, yes, sir," Al sounded off.

"Don't get me wrong, kiddo. I'm doing you a favor by warning you ahead of time of officer life. Some other alchemists went through a big crap of hell when they first came to our rotsie program after their finalization as State Alchemists."

"My brother never went through an ROTC program."

"That's 'cause your brother has automail. I shouldn't know this, but I do. When Mustang was still oh-and-six, he did a little something something with the programs and the higher ups and all that, making some bluff about the automail and how you can't put too much strain on that."

"But-"

"Kid, I used to work at the Personnel Bureau and Investigations. I was one of the best interrogators and I'm so mixed up in what I do, I don't know anymore for sure, so don't tell me I don't know this. I'm not supposed to know, but I do. By the way, don't tell anyone."

"You have my word, sir."

Zunis raised an eyebrow. "I like your verbal attitude." But kissing ass won't get you bull. "Keep it up."

"Yes, sir."

"I gotta go dish out on my crew- they're all enlisted folks. One of my el-tees got hit with a bullet in yesterday's armed robbery. Another one is doing some official business for Mr. Chief. The third one is working with our Executive Officer who's subbing for our CO. The fourth one is on a mission with the CO. Anywho, that was a pitiful jog my company just took."

Al saluted, causing the captain to give him a double take, followed a by a smug grin. Once Alphonse was sure he could drop his arm, he did and went over to the building that towered over them all. Surprisingly, there were more guards and MPs stationed one all sides of the building than ever before.

Al saw that sometime between the brothers' departing and the chat with Captain Zunis, Ed had found his way to the big building.

"Let me see your pass," the MP said.

"What pass?" Ed replied.

"You can't get in here without a pass, kiddo."

"I'm not a kid."

"Uh-huh. Right. No pass. No entry."

"What is this? A strip club?!" Ed yelled. "I have a right to go in there." Ed pointed at the building. "I'm the FullMetal Alchemist!"

"Yeah, and there's RedShot, WhiteWater, and LithiumCloud." The MP pointed to a trio of alchemists just behind the the Elrics.

"Hey, FullMetal..." started one of them. "My bad, I meant, hey, HalfMetal."

"What did you say?!" Ed yelled. "Why don't you crawl back under the rock you came out of, PaleWater?" WhiteWater was a very pale-skinned person. If you think Mustang's pale, take a look at this guy. He's paler than a piece of computer paper.

"Gee, I'd love to, but I sold it to the little earthworms that are about your size, if not larger, I mean."

"Piss off!"

"On you!" RedShot retorted.

Ed gave a death glare that was harsh enough to cause the toughest guys to blink. The trio of alchemists in turn squinted back and turned to leave. "Bastards," he muttered under his breath. He turned back to the MP. "Let me in, now."

"No, sir. You have no authorization."

Al approached his older brother at the time and simultaneously, so did Captain Zunis.

"Captain Zunis," said the MP. "You are ten minutes late for your briefing with Lieutenant Colonel Rutger."

"Sorry, 'bout that. PT ran late. All my el-tees are either busy or wounded." Zunis turned to look at the younger behind him. "FullMetal and Alphonse," he exclaimed.

"Do... I know you?" Ed said, confused.

"Captain Kelvin Zunis," he introduced. "You probably don't know me."

"Right... I don't know you. Sorry, though."

"What're you kids both doing standing around here for?"

"Trying to gain admittance. I gotta talk to Mustang." As much as I don't want to.

Zunis waved to the MP. "These two are all right."

"But the security forms and-"

"Screw security. They already have clearance." Zunis, Al saw, was no longer dressed in his PT clothing. The blue shirt that had been drenched in sweat was replaced with the average royal blue jacket and the button-down tee under that. His slacks were alse replaced with the pants with the average cape. His ends were tucked in.

Zunis pulled out some papers and handed them to the MP. "You should find these acceptable." The MP had another senior policeman over his shoulder in less than ten seconds to help with the visual checking. There wasn't time to get a more senior man on the duty, so they accepted the papers due to pressure and the fact that it was signed by Commander-in-Chief Marshal, General Roy Mustang.

"You're good to go. But, you know, sir, that I'll have to verify these."

"I know, I know." Zunis walked past the guards. "You alchemists coming or what?"

"Yes, sir," Al replied eagerly.

Al and Ed walked behind Zunis. Ed cleared his throat. "How did you-?"

"Mustang gave 'em to me. Ever since that big breach on the train, security doubled around here. Everyone who's normally in this part of HQ got some sort of ticket for their admittance. Mustang figured that in case you were ever around or wanted to report to him or other, you had to get a green card, too. He just handed the papers to me today, saying that if I see you, I ought to give these to you."

What big breach? On what train? Ed wondered.

"So that means Mustang is in today?" Al asked, hopefully.

"Yeah. But I think he's got another meeting." Zunis checked his pocket watch- standard GI issue, not State Alchemist issued. "On average, he has meetings five out of seven days each week."

"Are you supposed to know that, Cap'n?" Ed asked.

"No... Don't tell anyone." Zunis stopped and turned up the stairway. "I'm going this way. I gotta report in to my battalion-O. I'll see you boys later."

Ed nodded as he continued to walk towards the adjacent angle of the staircase Zunis was climbing. "Do you know him, Al?"

"I met him about ten- fifteen minutes ago."

"Hm. Figures."

1649; Central HQ Infirmary

"How's it going, Ishbal?" Mustang said, closing the door behind him. Hawkeye was standing outside of the hospital room.

Graham sat up suddenly and grit his teeth, trying to force the pain he felt down his throat. He coughed instead. "Like bullshit. Excuse the profanity, sir. I've felt better. Worst I've felt my life, though."

Mustang frowned as he took a seat next to the bed on one of those cheap chairs. "Easy now, Ishbal." Graham had earned himself a nick-name, being the only Ishbalan soldier in Central City. Of course, that was only known to those who knew Graham was an Ishbalan. "I don't want you reopening your wound."

"Thank you, sir."

"So. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really. But I will, sir, if you want me to."

"Do you know that man who... stabbed you?"

"No, sir. I've never seen him and I haven't even come in contact with him, sir."

Mustang nodded. That's right. It was a surprise, jump-down-from-the-roof attack.

"I'm sorry, sir," Graham admitted. "I was part of your escort and acted as your bodyguard. I failed you, sir. I put you in danger."

"You didn't know. You couldn'tve done anything. But that's all right. We have him in jail, awaiting for his trial. You saved my neck."

"Yeah," smiled Graham after a three second period of silence. "This wound came with pride and honor."

"You're damn right it did. How many people can say they nearly died trying to save my neck?"

"I don't know. Hawkeye must be one of them."

Both men chuckled. "Do you know when you're gonna be released?"

"I wish I did. It can't be less than a month, sir." Graham coughed once more. He grunted as he shifted in position. "I only hope though. I can't do much good for your entourage duty during the furlough. I was told you were gonna have some fun."

"Plenty. I wish you could come, Graham. I really do. You've done a lot for me."

"Think nothing of it, sir. It's my duty."

"No." Roy bit his lip. "You don't understand. I massacred your people. Getting more than acquainted to someone of that race is a big relief. It makes me feel like I've been forgiven."

"Sir," started Graham. "I don't know what to tell you, to be honest. Don't take this personally, but I hate this country for wiping out my race. But at the same time I love it because you've given me and my country a second chance."

Outside of the room, there was suddenly a crowd of voices. Both men turned their heads in the direction of the door as the noise increased. It was as if there was a sudden breach in security and a stampede of buffalo decided to run through. Graham and Mustang exchange glances before the latter stood and peeked his head out the door. The noise was unbearably loud.

"Lieu-!"

"General!" said Hawkeye. "Major Kinsey Wade is back from Ishbal!" she yelled, over the roar of the crowd. "I'm sorry about the noise level, sir, but Wade is being suffocated with all the other doctors urging ahead of themselves saying they got priorities."

"Wade..." Mustang's head twisted around so fast that Hawkeye was sure he almost broke it by doing so just to take a look at Graham. He turned back. "Riza, get Medic Wade in here. My orders."

"Yes, sir."

1701; Central HQ: Command

"I'm sorry, Ed," Roy said, when he saw the Elric brothers standing in his apparent domain after returning from the infirmary three buildings down the road.

"General..."

"Save it, Elric," Mustang said. "I'm not good at apologizing. But I mean it when I say that I'm sorry. I lost my temper and I should have kept that in check. Once my temper's loose, not that many people can control it, because I sure as hell can't. When I lose my temper, I always use strategy and tactics to get that person back, rather than attacking with rage, but I don't know what happened. I'm sorry, Ed."

"I'm the one who should be sorry, sir," said Ed. "I... never met to bring up... that."

"Forget about it. Now, don't tell me that you guys just came here because you felt like apologizing. Apologies aren't my thing."

Ed raised his hands. "I finished my report on that asshole who was secretly studying human alchemy."

"What did you tell him?"

"I gave the jerk a punch with my right, but I never told him the effects of the human transmutation. People can blackmail you with that kind of thing, especially, if you're in the military. I let him off with a warning, rather than have him arrested."

"Way to go. You should report that to Armstrong. Be quick about it. He's being deployed back to the east before the furlough."

"Yeah. About that..."

"About... what? Armstrong?"

"The leave."

Oh shit.

"Al told me that you were going out east."

Mustang turned and gave Alphonse a glare that read 'You told him?!' Al, who was currently standing behind Ed, shook his head anxiously. Mustang settled and turned back to look at Ed. "What about the leave, Elric?"

Ed raised an eyebrow at Mustang's tone. You seemed pissed. Acting like you're not even doing the leave. "I got a telegram. It says you're short on personnel for the leave."

"That news was sent out two days ago. If you're thinking of volunteering, sorry to say so, but I have others who plugged up the spots."

"Oh." So much for Winry's idea for making it up to him thought Ed.

"You have any plans for the leave, Ed?"

Ed and Al exchanged glances. "Not really."

"You're welcome to come... Act as an extra to the entourage if you guys want," Mustang said nonchalantly. He felt guilty to as how Ed was doing all the apologizing. It made him feel... not good.

"We can?!" Al exclaimed, more excited in Roy's offer than Edward, for one reason or arnother.

Mustang put a hand on his chin. "Of course I gotta consult the el-tee first, but..."

"Wait, what?"

"Hawkeye's the chief of my escort," was the initial reply.

"But... why... ? Why are you...?"

"My way of... apologizing to you, kid." Even if I don't want to. What am I supposed to do?

Ed threw Mustang a sly look before give a slow nod. He turned on his heel and exited, muttering, "Right," and walking out. "That's all I was there for anyways."

Al and Mustang were left alone in the office suite, both staring at the door like green slime was oozing out of it. They stole glances at one another before Mustang remarked, "That wasn't your brother."

"Alien," Al uttered. "He's never that... forgiving."

"You're telling the guy who he caused his ex to break up with," Roy replied nonchalantly.

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Forget it, Al."

"You didn't inform the first lieutenant about the... thing."

"Right."

"You will tell her, right?"

"Of course," Mustang grinned without hesitating. He checked his pocket watch. "I'm about to be somewhere. Do you think you could meet up with your brother or something else?"

"Yes, sir." Al saluted to Mustang, who then saluted back, and exited. Mustang sighed, for indeed, he had lied to Al yet again. He wasted several minutes by staring at his paperwork just to doubly make sure Al had enough time to escape the grounds. After those said minutes, Mustang leapt from his desk and exited the suite and the building altogether.

He made his way to Building Two where Easy Company was busy doing PT. He scowered the sight- the men were all jogging in place and on command of the lieutenant, everyone dropped down into the push-up position. One enlisted man- a PFC- saw the CINC, immediately pulled up into a salute, and stared forward. Others repeated, the lieutenant one of the last to notice since his back was facing the Chief.

Mustang waved at them and said, "Don't mind me. Just passing by."

Several salutes, exchanged glances and words later, Mustang made it to his desitnation. He knocked and entered. Apparently, no one had heard the knock since the bustle in the room was unbearingly loud. Loud discussions, debates, arguments, presentation, et cetera and et cetera were being given, in spite of the fact that everyone in the room was more 'point-and-shoot' than 'paper-pusher' or 'paper-presenter'.

A low junior O saw Mustang, dropped his papers and threw his right arm upwards so the tip of one of his right hand fingers brushed his eyebrow. Mustang shook his head at him and put a finger to his lips, the universal sign of 'keep quiet'. In this case, it meant 'you never saw me'. Puzzled, the second lieutenant complied with his orders as Mustang took of his jacket, tossed it to the two-el-tee, and crept along the crowd of infantry officers. Perfect, he thought as he saw her with his back turned to him.

He rised to his full height just a few inches feet behind her, where she was conviently having a chat with a captain or other. The tanned captain gave a second glance at the man behind her, but Mustang shushed him. The captain raised an eyebrow that miraculously escaped the eyes of the hawk as the Chief whispered into the sharpshooter's ear.

"Yo."

Hawkeye, startled, whipped out her pistol and aimed it in Mustang's face, who amazingly expected this to happen and had stood his ground.

"I'm pretty sure that it's against some sort of rule to point a weapon at one's own presiding officer."

Zunis was chuckling loudly at the reddened look on Hawkeye's face. "Cap'n," started Mustang as Hawkeye holstered the weapon. "D'you mind if I steal her for a second? I gotta give her a reprimand for pointing her Beretta at me."

"If it's for a reprimand, go right ahead, sir." It wasn't uncommon to see the Commander-In-Chief in their building, acting aloof.

Both men smiled at one another as Mustang motioned for Hawkeye to follow him.

"What's this about?" Riza asked after exiting the room and walkling the bustling corridors of Building Two. They were currently on the fifth floor as of now, where Riza's 'office' was (given lieutenants had offices, cuz, duh, infantry). Earlier, Mustang had found Fuery, once again covered and tripping on wires laced around his neck and pockets.

"B-511," he muttered to him. "Five minutes tops."

Fuery nodded, understanding. More work for the preoccupied First Sergeant. Fuery first had to drop the wires off and then run down to Building 7- Electrical Communications- 3rd Floor, Room 354, find a way to get the dudes on duty watching the camera-TVs to leave, hack the thing, and block room 511 of Building 2 slash B.

Mustang sat on the edge of her desk once they arrived there. In reality, it was a whole bunch of other desks in the room, where a whole bunch of first lieutenants from her regiment conducted most of their adjutant things. There was one first el-tee doing some bookwork.

"Reiben," Hawkeye said. "Do you think you can abandon the work right quick? It's an emergency."

"Someone die?" The man known as Reiben assumed sardonically, not lifting his head from the notes he scribbed down.

"No."

"War break out?"

"Nay."

"Mustang appointed as the Fuhrer?"

"Actually, I don't like the word 'Fuhrer'. I much prefer something un-tyrant-like. I prefer 'President' or something less dictator-y or more somber and represent-y-like," Roy replied.

"That's real nice, Sniper," Reiben replied, emotionless.

"Either he's an idiot not noticing the voice change, or he's absorbed in his work," Mustang whispered. He coughed loudly afterwards.

"Need a cough drop, Hawkeye?"

Roy rolled his eyes. "Heads up, Reiben. Chief Mustang's coming this way."

Reiben stood up and at attention, ready and expecting the general to walk through the doors of the room at any moment. Much to the opposite, Reiben stared at Mustang straight in the eyes. He stumbled, feeling threatened by the upper echelon's presence. "G-G-G-General Mustang, sir!"

"At ease, soldier. Why don't you do as the first lieutenant says and hold off on that bookwork. Skidaddle. We have some business to get down to." Pancon didn't question the Chief and nodded politely before wrapping his right foot behind the left and expertly turning about face. He marched to the door. Hawkeye shook her head at her compeer's idocy while Mustang laughed softly, repositioning himself to his former state of sitting on the corner of Riza's desk.

"Is this anything about... ALMANAC, WINDPIPE, or TABLEAU?"

Mustang shook his head. "Far from it. Think a few weeks into the future and what do you get?"

"Sir, I don't like to assume without using any sorts of knowledge or information. It's a bad habit to get when-"

"Think with an educated guess to a few weeks in the future, Riza. C'mon, don't get all ruly on me."

Hawkeye sighed, having no choice but to play with her beau's game. "I see the leave coming up."

"Correct," said Mustang, clapping his hands. "And who do you see?" he smirked at her.

Riza smirked back and said, "This has more to do with us than the world, hm?" Mustang gave another broad smile. "All right, all right. I see... you, me-"

"And a whole bunch of bastards," the male interrupted.

"Say that again?"

"My entourage."

"I thought we already filled that paperwork out. Myself acting as the chief guard alone should-"

"It didn't look to well to the other figureheads, so I have to grab a whole bunch of others."

Riza didn't look pleased. Except Havoc, it was just going to be her and Roy and... nothing. They'd be away from the chaos of the city, away from the meetings, away from the stress, and just spend some time together without worrying who knows what.

"How many people?"

"At least eight."

"Like... like the number eight?"

(A/N: -points at Riza's last line- Riza just had a blonde moment...)

"I'm pissed off, too, Riza. But I can't help it."

"Who are they?"

"Your cap'n is one of them. He's going to be one of the plainclothesed deputies. To enhance the feel, he's bringing his wife and kids along."

"Cap'n Zunis?"

"Uh-huh. Breda's recovering from that bullet graze, so it doesn't appear that he'll be coming... Uh, Lansen is prob'ly coming. Fuery... Falman. It might be possible for Armstrong-"

"Not Armstrong!"

"I'm trying to get him reassigned to the east during the leave, but me and Personnel Affairs is losing the battle. Whitcomb is definitely coming from the MP Corps, and if Wade says 'okay', then Graham should be coming, too. With Graham coming and Armstrong, too, that's be eight. But..."

"But what?"

"Do you remember this?" Mustang tossed Riza a manilla folder. It only took her all of half a second to understand where the Chief was going.

"Roy," she said.

"Al wanted to do it so badly and he found out about the trip and I just... I couldn't say no. I don't know why, Riza. But if you say no, then I'll tell Al that it's off." Riza had a seldom pained expression on her face. "I'm sorry, Riza. I know you just wanted the two of us with the exception of Havoc. And maybe a little company for the extra entourage, and I did too, but you know how the security for use top-notch people are nowdays. And... I need your consent."

Riza sighed. "I... just can't seem to say no either, Roy."

Roy kissed the top of her forehead. "Thanks, babe." He forgot rule 29- no pet names. "So you're... with it?"

"I guess I don't have much of an option, do I?"

"I'll ignore that and take it as a yes. Al was very curious about whether or not you were going to be in on this." Mustang turned his head to stare out the window. He was about to turn back towards Riza, but he went and did a double take at the window. "Oh," he muttered.

"Something wrong?"

"Uh... Yeah," he replied. He had to get down there quick-like. "Um, well, you know what Riza, I've gotta get to a meeting and I can't afford to be late, like last time. So, uh, yeah, I'll call you tonight," he grabbed his coat from the chair (which he had retrieved from the junior O before exiting Junior Officers Infantry Operations room) and waved. "I love you." He dashed out the door, sloppily throwing his jacket on before Riza could respond back.

"I love you too, Roy."

1724; Central HQ

Those punks down there think they can jump some businessman in an alley right in front of me and mug him, too? I don't think so. The bastards. Good thing, I saw it, too. So, I was just coming back from doing some investigations for Chief and I turn a corner and what the hell do I see but a bunch of punkass kids grabbing a man in his forties holding a briefcase into an alley, rather roughly if I could add.

And I'm a soldier. An officer. I was undercover in my civvies and all, but I'm military. I run into the alley after them and the punk in the middle has a blade to the guy's throat while another one is demanding money. I accidentally stepped on a piece of glass, announcing my presence, so whatever. "What the hell are you kids doing?!" I yelled.

And then one of them goes up to me and has the nerves to say, "None of your business, fag. Give me your cigarettes." I had a cigarette in my mouth and my cigarette box was halfway out of my breast pocket.

"Nothing gets by you, huh, punk?"

"Bastard!" he whipped out a BB Gun. Puh-leez. I think he thought he would threaten me by it, but I'm no fool. I know my weapons and beyond that, I'm wearing a kevlar vest underneath my shirt. He lunged at me, but I darted against him and went for the guy holding the dagger to the businessman's throat. I pucnhed him right in the gut, then pricked his wrist; he writhed in pain, dropping the knife.I think I popped a vein on the kid's wrist. Oops.

I dropped back and did one of Riza's leg sweeps on the BB Gun kid. He dropped the gun and I scooped it up. I tucked it in my inside pocket. I blocked the only entrance slash exit. "Listen you punk ugly kids. I don't want to hurt you, but I can if I want to. I have that kind of authority."

"What are you? A cop?"

"Better than that, punk. Listen, I'm a decent man all right, and I don't want to hurt no one, especially kids like you." The kids looked alarmed by this. "And I know Chief Mustang personally. You kids must be smart enough to know who he is, right?"

"Yeah. That self-righteous moron acting like some peacey, loving figurehead." The taller kid spit on the ground and sneered. "I spit on him just like I did to the dirt I'm standing on. Dun really make no difference to me."

I lunged at the kid and pinned him to the wall. My hand covered his whole front face and I rocked his cheap head against the brick wall behind him, banging it back and forth. Blood spurted out from it. "You little fucker! You don't call General Mustang that! You understand!?" I slammed his head against the brick wall once more. "No one talks to him like that and I sure as hell won't allow anyone to talk about him like that, you get that, you little bastard?! Especially when I'm around!" I threw his bleeding skull to the ground, with his body following limply.

That little punk just pissed me off, but I saw he was crying. I felt a pang of guilt stab me, but I ignored it. The other kid, the one I didn't assault and had stood by, nodded to me, saying he understood. The other kid- well, I underestimated him. He got up, trying not to scream at the bloody wound I gave him and they started to leave, but I halted them for I still blocked their path.

"Hey! Wait! I didn't say you could go yet. And I can get both your asses in prison for your idiocy. If I were you, I'd go sign into some rehabilitation clinic and quit this fuck up of robbing people who do some decent good in this world. Now, I'm lettin' you kids off with a warning." I flicked my cigarette butt into the asphalt and stomped on it. I turned to the side, allowing the to-be second chancers their escape. "Leave, now!"

"Yessuh."

"What the hell!" Havoc yelled. He had been reminiscing of his dramatic, action-filled day on city patrol as he walked toward the Infantry Offices. But someone grabbed him by the back of his collar and pulled him into one of HQ's secluded alleys.

"It's me, Havoc," said Mustang. "Stop being such a weiner."

"Sorry, sir. You caught me off guard."

"Right. Listen... there's something wrong with... the plan."

"You mean... with Betty East?"

"Didn't you go out with her a few months ago? Some Betty East or other?" Mustang twrled his finger, trying to twist his memory.

"No, that was Benny West, sir. And Benny West is an old buddy from rotsie." Havoc had finally corrected himself from incorrectly saying Basic Training rather than the ROTC/ rotsie he came from. "Not the point, though."

"Then what... or who is 'Betty East'?"

"Another term for BITE."

"Exactly what is that?"

"Short for BETROTHAL-IN-THE-EAST."

"Havoc, you gave it a codename? And you gave the codename a codename...? And you gave that a codename, too?"

"Yes, Chief."

"Why?"

"I thought it would be appropriate. But what's the problem? I heard it had something to do with entourage, but I already got that taken care of, remember?"

"It's bigger than that, Jean."

"Whatcha mean?"

"Elric."

"FullMetal? What... oh, shit. Don't tell me he found out about you and Riza."

"Worse. He's coming on the trip."

"Shit! How'd he get in?"

"I told Al he could come, but for that to happen, Ed has to come, too. I couldn't say no."

"This is marriage we're talking about, Chief, and you can't so no to a stubborn kid whe everything is in jeopardy here?" Havoc exaggerated.

"How could I? Knowing Riza, she was probably thinking that I skipped a block here. I can actually forgive Edward of all people. For all I know, she was probably waiting for me to do something like this my entire goddamn life. That reason she sparked you... the phony one where she said that she... broke up with me... because I was so competitive over some little kid... well, who knows? Maybe some of it is true? The more I mend up or live up to her peeves, the higher the chance she'll even say yes. Maybe she was glad Elric was coming."

"Did you see the look on her face?"

Mustang bit his lip. "Yeah. She... didn't... take it well."

"Does that sound like she's happy to you?"

"No."

"But you want her to be happy?"

"More than anything."

"Then take back what you said to FullMetal, Chief!"

"I can't. Maybe something good will come out of this."

"Like what?"

"Hughes knows, but he's not going to tell me."

"So... what? I have to alter all the plans?"

"Keep 'em the same. Just tweak up and reinforce the defense for Saturday two so you can make doubly sure that Elric isn't going places. And if the word gets out between me and Riza and FullMetal finds out, do your best to shut him up and cut him down. And if he finds out about Saturday two, keep him bound and gagged. Those are just vague plans until we actually get out there."

"Yes, sir. Will that be all, sir?"

"Yes."

"Aye, aye, then." Havoc saluted. "Wait, Chief, don't you have a meeting to hit at the House?"

Mustang stole a glance at his pocket watch. "Yeah. You're right. If I'm going to stand a chance, I better get the hell out of here now."

"You do that, sir. I'll work on Betty East."

Mustang nodded just as an MP patrol car zoomed in. Perfect timing, thought Mustang. He hopped into the backseat and Havoc saw him mouth the words 'Step on it' to the driver. Just as they exited the gates, Mustang had a sudden realization hit him. How did Havoc know he had a meeting?

A/N: Thanksgiving break!!! Woooooooooo! All right. I don't really have much to say, except that this con I wanted to go to in December got, like, cancelled. Roar! Travis Willingham was gona be there!!! Roar! ROAR!

Lion. I'm a lion today.

Okay, well, yeah.

TRL/TLFTR: Cheeseycraziness, Bar-ohki, Kurissyma san Tybalt (lazy to login, huh?), MoonStarDutchess, Winglessfairy25, C.A.M.E.O.1 and Only, oceana, and soni.

Dude, happy Thanksgiving... Oh wait. NO WAY!! No one told me... Well, I should've known...WOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOO!! Four-hundred mark! That's a big number. I think it has to do with the number of chapters. Duh. But, I swear I did this like eight chapters ago, but, yeah. Once again, you all prove to be super awesome people with super awesome ideas and ways to encourage those of us to improve our fics via constructive criticism or lengthy reviews on how awesome one's fic may be. Even those of you who put in n00b reviews, as a fellow fic writer would call them. Appreciate it all. Feedback is the drive for us writers- novelists, shortstorists, factuals, fanfic-ists- feedback is our motivation and hearing the stuff we want to hear is our catalyst in updating and our way of keeping on. Point is, not everyone who tells a story out there is able to thank their people- sure privately they do it, but how many authors out there like Tom Clancy and J.K. Rowling actually get up in front of a podium and say, "Thank you- all of you for reading and loving my Jack Ryan series or Harry Potter chronicles."? Not a lot- at least not in public, anyways, but I speak for other writers out there when I say, "Thanks."

With that written monologue, I'm probably an amazing speech making kid, but, hey, if I ever got up in front of a podium, intending to say something like that, I'll get braindead. The only smart part about my speech in my vocab and I only use that when I write, needless to say.

Yeah. Happy Thanksgiving guys.