"What the hell?" Prentiss asks, bewildered.
Dave doesn't blame her. Their walking dead man has been… not silent , but definitely not cooperative . He'd only asked a couple of questions before shutting down hard. Something about him pings Dave's radar as military, but that's not surprising seeing as Hugh Maes had been military. But he'd been young military—where it should have still been new and obvious and he should nearly squeak when he walks. This guy has the military in his very being, ground in, simply part of his bearing the way longtime vets have it.
Rather like Mustang, actually.
And speaking of Mustang, his crying has quieted, but he's still clinging to Hughes like he'll vanish if Mustang lets go.
"I died, didn't I?"
How is it possible that their walking dead man doesn't know the woman who has his picture on her desk, but he knows Ed's significant other? The looks Mustang had spun through, from shock to murderous rage , concerned him.
"I'd like to know what he thought he was going to do with his hand?" Reid asks, keeping his voice low and an eye on Mustang and Hughes. Hughes is watching them back, but most of his attention is on Mustang. "Did he think he was going to snap at us or something?"
"Seaver, was he wearing that glove when you picked him up?" Prentiss asks.
Seaver shakes her head. "No, ma'am. I have to assume he had it with him, but you didn't say anything about him being under arrest, so I didn't search him or anything."
"Hughes definitely acted like it was dangerous," Prentiss says, grim. "But he didn't try to dodge or run…"
"Like he knew it wouldn't help," Reid finishes the observation.
"I think it's time to intrude on this reunion," Dave says, crossing the room.
Hughes says something to Mustang, too low to catch, and Mustang straightens, rubbing his eyes. Though he still looks pale and his eyes are bloodshot from crying, he pulls himself together admirably.
"Agents," he greets, voice still a little rough.
"Mr. Mustang," Dave says. "I see you know our Mr. Hughes here."
Mustang takes a deep, shaky breath and says, "I do."
"I'm sure you understand with three FBI agents missing, we have a lot of questions," Prentiss steps in.
Mustang's brow furrows, and he finally manages to pull his eyes away from Hughes. He takes the three of them in, seeming to realize for the first time that Ed isn't with them. "Missing?" he asks.
"Yes, you partner among them," Prentiss says, her tone conveying just how unimpressed she is with his observation skills at the moment.
"Partner?" Hughes asks, a somewhat delighted tone in his voice.
"You didn't tell me what happened to Edward," Mustang says. His bare hand goes to his right wrist as if it's some kind of touchstone. "You just said you needed me to come. I assumed he's fine."
"Edward?" Hughes blurts. "They asked me about Edward, but he's not your partner, is he? Or he's your partner, like… work partner?"
Dave is agitated, worried about his team, and a little eager to throw fuel on the metaphorical fire to see what information it gives them, because Hughes seemed familiar with Ed, but had clammed up after confirming that. "Mr. Mustang isn't an FBI agent. He is Agent Elric's romantic partner."
Mustang winces and Hughes stares in complete incomprehension for a moment before his expression hardens.
" Edward , Roy?" he asks, and there's a cold undertone in his voice that tells them all exactly how much he does not approve .
"You were dead," Mustang says defensively.
"So you seduce your subordinate?"
What the fuck? Dave thinks.
Prentiss is not as restrained. "What the hell are you talking about?" she demands.
"Agent Elric was recruited to the FBI straight out of college. In what capacity could he have been Mr. Mustang's subordinate?" Reid asks.
Hughes glares at Mustang disapprovingly while Mustang glares back defiantly.
No one speaks.
" Gentlemen ," Prentiss prompts in that tone that says it is not a request.
"I don't know enough about what's going on to explain," Hughes says, low and even, the kind of tone that says he's gritting his teeth so he doesn't lose his temper. "So, Roy, why don't you explain to us all?"
It occurs to Dave that Mustang is still not acting nervous about Ed. Then again, he'd all but laughed at Dave a few months back when Ed had been kidnapped by an unsub, so maybe this was a similar insouciance?
He looks at Mustang and Hughes having a silent conversation and disregards the theory. This is different. At that time, Mustang had been bemused, assured. It was simple faith in Ed's ability to get himself out of a situation. This time it seems more… grounded. As if he's somehow sure that Ed is fine in a way that is from more than simple faith in his partner's ability.
Mustang finally huffs. "What did you see, when you first woke up?" he asks Hughes. "And we'll go from there."
"Edward," Hughes says immediately. "Or I thought it was—but his eyes were wrong. They were brown."
"It was him," Mustang says, impatient. "I'll explain later."
Hughes looks skeptical but continues. "It was an all-white room? With huge doors. I only saw him for a couple of moments, but now that I think about it, he was older and looked horrified…" he trails off.
Dave doesn't blame him. Mustang looks like he can't decide if he's going to pass out or throw up. He lifts his gloved hand, still cradling the wrist. On the back of the glove is some strange circle, stitched in blood-red thread. He vaguely remembers that Mustang has a scar on the back of that hand—one that is shaped like a circle. Seems an unlikely coincidence.
Hughes jumps up and pushes Mustang into the chair he'd been sitting in. "Sit down before you fall down," he says, still obviously concerned for his friend no matter how much he disapproves.
"That's it?" he asks, voice shaky. "That's all you saw?"
"That's all I remember," Hughes confirms.
"Of course… you're alive, so there must have been…"
"Must have been what?" Prentiss demands.
Hughes leans against the desk, arms folded, but his expression is solemn. "Human transmutation, right?" he asks.
Mustang nods.
"Human transmutation?" Prentiss asks, but it comes together for Dave.
"That's the term for trying to resurrect someone, isn't it?" he asks.
Mustang grimaces. "Among other things, but yes," he says. He's regaining his color, but he's still paler than Dave likes.
"All right," Prentiss says, at the end of her patience. "I have three missing agents, a dead unsub, at least seven victims, and both of you seem to have answers. So start talking before we start arresting for obstruction of justice."
Hughes and Mustang exchange another silent conversation, and Prentiss is visibly working not to lose her temper.
Hughes breaks the ice. "Do you want to see the array?" he asks.
Mustang closes his eyes. "No," he says. "But I need to."
"Ed called the circle an array too," Dave says.
"I'd like to talk to the unsub too, but you said he's dead?" Mustang looks at Prentiss, ignoring Dave's comment.
"Tucker Maes died of blood loss after losing his left arm, right leg, eyes, tongue, and ears ," Prentiss says coldly.
"Tucker?" Mustang asks, something between suspicion and disbelief.
Hughes winces. "We tried to save him, but…"
Rather than looking surprised or upset at the information, Mustang becomes thoughtful, eyes staring into space as he links his fingers together in front of him. "A leg, an arm, eyes, tongue, and ears…"
"Left arm and right leg," Hughes points out, raising an eyebrow, as if that's somehow significant. Dave realizes that they mirror Ed's prosthetics and feels vaguely sick.
Running a hand over his face, Mustang sighs. "This is Ed's area of expertise, not mine."
"Elric has experience in resurrecting people?" Prentiss asks flatly.
"No," Mustang says. "If it weren't for Maes sitting here, I'd tell you with absolute certainty that the dead cannot be brought back. Ed has experience in…" he trails and runs his hand over his face again. "It's going to sound insane."
"I have fifteen missing bodies and a walking dead man, Mr. Mustang," Prentiss says. "I'm willing to entertain even insane explanations at the moment."
That gets Mustang's attention. "Fifteen missing bodies?" he asks. "You said seven victims, not fifteen missing bodies."
"Twelve senior citizens and my agents. When we got to the scene where Mr. Hughes was with our dead unsub, all of the victims had vanished and all that was left was the clothing they were wearing."
"Did you find clothing for the missing agents?" Mustang asks with the kind of look and tone that expects answers.
"We didn't," Reid says. "Just for the missing victims, along with some jewelry and even a pacemaker."
Mustang's eyes close in regret. "Your victims are almost certainly dead. The agents… are probably not."
"How can you be sure?" Seaver asks.
"Yeah, Roy. How can you be sure?" Hughes wonders, sounding curious but not confrontational.
"Ed is alive. As far as I can tell, he's not in any physical distress. If he's alive and you didn't find his clothing, there's a good chance your other agents are also alive if you didn't find theirs."
Hughes frowns. "How do you know?"
With another put-upon sigh, Mustang pulls up his right sleeve and bares his wrist. Tattooed there is a circle, one much more intricate and detailed than the one on the back of his glove. It reminds Dave more of the circles in this case. "I know because our souls are linked. I can sense him."
There's a beat of silence before Prentiss says, "Please tell me you're joking," with a half smile on her face, but it's more disbelief than amusement.
" Roy ," Hughes says, tone thick with disappointment.
"Don't take that tone with me!" Mustang defends. "This was 100% Edward's idea. The array was his design!"
"And you agreed to it?"
"Maes," Mustang says with the look of someone who is past tired of this conversation, "Have I ever, ever been able to make Edward do a damned thing he wasn't damned well willing to do? Ever ?"
Hughes looks grumpy but doesn't protest.
"Have you ever known me to be able to keep him from doing something he felt was important, no matter how stupid or reckless or dangerous?"
Hughes looks grumpier but still doesn't say anything.
"Do you really think I could have seduced him if he weren't entirely onboard with it?"
"You were still his commanding officer."
"Commanding officer?" Reid interrupts, and Dave sees the light bulb go off on Reid's face. "Ed was a child soldier? Is that how he lost his arm and leg? But wait—I don't think he would have been involved in anything in the US, as outside of the last World War, the US military has never really dabbled in accepting underage recruits. And even then, it was more of a need-based case where the record-keeping was relatively easy to forge and they needed bodies anyway."
Mustang shoots a glare at Hughes that reads look what you've done now as clear as day, and Hughes winces in reply.
Reid is continuing about the likelihood of the US running an underground program, but Dave is staring at Mustang, and it… fits . Damn it , it makes sense . Ed's insider knowledge of militaries in general, how military-minded people think, the way soldiers react. Everything that Dave had attributed to growing up with a military family isn't secondhand experience, it's direct experience. But it's not traditional US military because he doesn't know the nuances and rivalries between the branches. Dave always attributed that gap to it being secondhand knowledge, but could be firsthand if he simply wasn't involved in the typical operations because he was a child soldier .
He feels like an idiot for not seeing it sooner. Ed's hypervigilance, the way he keeps distance from people, his deep disdain and distrust of organized military, second only to his hatred of organized religion, in hindsight they make perfect sense if you know he was active military.
Whatever program they were involved in was so off the books that both Ed and Mustang have been wiped from existence before getting out of it. No wonder Penelope can't find anything on them.
Judging by the looks on Mustang's and Hughes's faces, they've tuned Reid out. Dave feels like they're still missing something.
"What military program were you with, exactly?" he asks into the lull where Reid dries up. He includes them both because it's clear that whatever it is, they were both involved.
They exchange another look, then Hughes straightens and salutes perfectly. "Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes of the Amestris State Army."
"You're a brigadier general now. They promoted you two ranks posthumously," Mustang informs, though there's affection in it.
"Whoo…" Hughes says with a grin. "So I outrank you now."
Mustang returns it, fiercer. "Brigadier General Roy Mustang of the Amestris State Army."
"You're generals ," Prentiss says, looking between them, disbelieving. Dave is in her court because Mustang is maybe forty, and they know what he's been doing for the last almost nine years, which would have made him a general at thirty . Dave doesn't buy it either.
"Amestris?" Reid says with that unique tone he has when someone has said something that is fundamentally in error as though it's true. "There's no country in the world called that. Is that some kind of organizational name or code? And what was Ed? A major?" He makes the suggestion with obvious sarcasm.
Mustang shakes his head. "Second lieutenant," he says.
"Bullshit," Dave says, entirely involuntary. Ed couldn't have been more than seventeen. Second lieutenant was what officers straight out of school ended up. Given the way Hughes's eyes narrow and the frown that pulls at his mouth, Mustang is lying.
The unhappy microexpressions are swiftly covered with exaggerated surprise. "Edward got promoted?" he asks. Mustang gives a small incline of his head. It isn't a nod, and something significant passes between them. "I wouldn't have expected him to stay in long enough…" he trails, then tilts his head thoughtfully to the side. "I guess he stayed for you?"
"He transferred to report up through Olivier's command when we began dating," Mustang explains.
"General Armstrong? And Edward . That seems an explosive combination," Hughes comments, and this time, it seems he's honestly amused.
Mustang's features soften in affection. "Restoring Alphonse went a long way to calming Ed. Besides, he has a very healthy respect for women in authority."
Hughes grins happily. "He did it then? He restored them both?"
"Alphonse, yes, but not himself."
That makes Hughes's face fall a bit. "That's a damn shame."
Mustang shrugs. "Ed is at peace with it. Or he was."
"Hold on here," Prentiss snaps. "Let me make sure I'm following this correctly. You're all three members of a completely made-up military organization, Elric is a second lieutenant , you have a magical circle on your wrist that ties your souls together, and that's how you know he's okay? And what do you mean he 'restored' his brother?"
"It's not magic ," Mustang says with derision. "It's alchemy . It's a science ."
Hughes snorts. "You know you sound just like Edward when you say that, right?"
"Nine years, Maes," Mustang says, longsuffering. "That's bound to happen."
Hughes looks thoughtful. "We aren't done with that conversation," he says, but he doesn't sound angry or upset about it anymore.
"Alchemy?" Reid asks. "Are you talking about the speculative philosophy that aimed to achieve transmutation of base metals into gold, the cure for all disease, and a means of immortality?"
Mustang looks pained. "That is your understanding of it, yes." He steeples his fingers and rests them against his chin.
"And what's your understanding of it?" Prentiss demands.
Hughes raises his hands in that universal don't look at me gesture. "I am not the alchemist here."
"Which implies that you are," Dave says.
Mustang looks up at him through lidded eyes, assessing. Dave had assumed that Mustang was intelligent—that, at least, is something he believes is a requirement to attract Ed's attention—but he didn't expect him to be shrewd .
After a long moment, Mustang begins, voice taking on a didactic tone. "Alchemy is the science of understanding, deconstructing, and reconstructing. But you can't make something out of nothing. You're quite familiar with the Law of Conservation of Mass, I assume?"
Reid automatically provides the explanation. "The Law of Conservation of Mass states that mass in an isolated system is neither created nor destroyed by chemical reactions or physical transformations. According to the law, the mass of the products of a chemical reaction must be equal to the mass of the reactants."
Dave appreciates the refresher, but, "And what does that have to do with your 'alchemy'?" He doesn't make the finger quotes around alchemy , but he's sure Mustang heard them.
Mustang lowers his hands, then separates them, reaching out deliberately. "Alchemy is the science of understanding that this pencil holder—" He touches the rim of the ordinary black wire pencil holder. "—is a carbon and chromium alloy coated by a polyurethane resin powder coating—polyethylene terephthalate, if you want to use the common chemical name for it." A blue, lightning-like spark arcs over Mustang's hand and into the pencil holder. Mustang continues to speak through the flashing, calm, like this is expected, compelling even through the distraction. "Deconstructing it down to its components, then reconstructing it into something else." When the flare fades, instead of a pencil holder, there is an elaborate rearing black wire horse, still with all the pens and pencils inside its stomach, though Dave can't see how you'd get them out.
Hughes whistles and picks up the horse. "When did you get so good at fine detail like this? And without…" He glances up at Mustang thoughtfully. "You didn't…" Mustang shoots him a look, and he changes course before he continues, "I expect this kind of detail from Edward."
" Edward can do this kind of thing?" Dave asks, a little awed.
Hughes snorts. "This kind of thing was probably child's play to Edward and Alphonse—"
"Yes, well," Mustang smoothly interrupts. "They are geniuses, the likes of which you only see once every few hundred years. But to come back to your point, Agent Prentiss. Edward was indeed an officer. We were all members of our country's military, and that country is called Amestris. We have found no equivalent for it in your records. Ed and I came here nearly nine years ago because Ed was dealing with a rogue alchemist. As far as we have been able to determine, Ed was caught up in the transmutation and pulled through to this world. We believe that our soul link—" He lifts his wrist to show the circle again. "—pulled me through as well."
"Are you trying to tell us that you're from another world ?" Dave asks, trying to make sense of what he just heard.
"That is exactly what I'm telling you," Mustang says, lacing his fingers back together. "And that "—he nods to the horse—"is your proof."