(Yet another Author's Note: Just as a small warning, this chapter contains a small amount of German. I will be the first to admit that I don't know German, so please feel free to correct me on it. I know throwing random languages can bother some people, but I'm trying to make it so if you can't get it from contextyou didn't need to know it anyway and it's just there to be semi-mysterious. (Yeah, there's longer stuff in later chapters, but that's in French, which I am much more competant in. And you still don't have to understand it). Oh, and I'm back home for break now, so that either means this will get updated much more often, or much less often... it all depends on my work schedule. I'm also working on re-editing the entire thing, so after it's all been posted (I still don't have a proper ending, ahhh!), I think I'm going to replace all the chapters with their better, edited versions. This really doesn't make a difference now though... I think I'm just rambling. Thanks for reading!)

Hohenhime landed hard in an alley between buildings. It was always hard to readjust after travelling through the gate. Any visit into the gate inevitably led to him finding himself someplace, and quite usually some-when, he didn't want to be. This was by far one of the worst. It looked to be where he'd started out this morning, but the streets were empty, the air was different. Everyone's attention was someplace else, it seemed. He had a vague feeling of when he might be. It was something he'd been shown as he went through the gate the very first time. No one here was buying anything on the streets anymore. The markets had all moved elsewhere. The city seemed to be preparing for something. It was chilly, but there was no snow in the air or on the ground, and the sun was going down. It grew darker quickly as Hohenhime walked down the street, and people slowly began to gather outside along the roads. They seemed to be expecting something, but it was hard to tell in the dark. Hohenhime figured he had nothing to lose, and approached the first person that passed close by.

"Traurig; Welches Jahr ist es?" One natural perk of the gate was the information it was willing to throw at you as you went through, if you were prepared to take it. The immediate assimilation of language was a little hard to take if you thought about it too much. It was weird for another language to suddenly come so naturally. Hohenhime imagined most people would just disregard the change and assume they were still speaking their native language. The mind always found ways to cope. He'd only noticed the change in language after they'd contacted the gate the first time. Someone had interrupted the people that had come through to them, yelling at them in a strange language he knew that neither of them knew. They'd responded anyway.

The man he'd approached turned to face Hohenhime and gave him a strange look. He was, for a second, conscious that he still spoke with an accent. Though he knew it inside and out, the language was still awkward for his tongue. Some things were impossible to avoid. He hoped that his English accent wouldn't get him into too much trouble here. He knew there were times in history when it would, and he hoped this wasn't one of them, even though at the back of his mind he knew it was. The man gave him a suspicious look, but Hohenhime discounted it as more a result of the strangeness of his question than his own suspicious presence.

"Neunzehn dreißig acht."

Hohenhime nodded. Here again. He'd have to be especially careful with his accent, then. Or if he was lucky, he could find his former associates from the Thule Society. He knew that, by this point, they would have risen to rather powerful positions, and could make an exception for him, if need be.

"Danke," he smiled at the man and continued in the direction he hoped the university was still in. He sighed. This was crazy. Something big was about to happen if the time between the worlds was fluctuating this much.

Alphonse fell backwards into a familiar chair. It toppled over as he stood up again, frantically looking around the room.

"Winry! Where's Havoc? How long have I been gone?"

Winry blinked. It seemed like she hadn't moved at all from where she'd been before. Rose had left the room with the baby – or at least Al hoped that that was the case – and a few sandwiches still sat on the floor. Pinako glanced over at Winry, then back at Al again. The two of them had gotten used to unusual alchemical accidents in their home, but no one had ever disappeared before.

"Havoc didn't come back, did he?" Al picked the chair up off the floor and sat down in it. "The baby is okay, isn't it?"

"Yes, the baby's fine," Pinako said in an attempt to reassure Al on at least one of his questions.

"That gate… was what you were looking for, wasn't it?" Winry asked, surprising Al with her understanding.

"You saw it too?"

"Only for a second before you and Havoc disappeared into it."

"Oh…" Al looked down at the tablecloth, idly playing with it to keep his hands busy. "We're going to have to do something to explain Havoc's disappearance." He sighed. "I hope father was right about there being a third world. I don't want to think about him being trapped in that gate…"

"Father… Hohenhime? You saw Hohenhime?" Pinako stared over the table at him incredulously.

"Yes…" Al continued playing with the tablecloth, halfway to losing himself in his thoughts yet again and before Pinako could ask anything else, Winry interrupted.

"I suppose we'll have to call Central. Hawkeye would know what to do, right?" She stood and walked towards the phone, and Al took the cue to follow.

----

After the coup, Hawkeye had been promoted to Lt. Colonel and was on her way farther up the ranks if rumours in Central were to be believed. Her shooting and tactical expertise had come to the forefront after the Colonel's disappearance. She, like many of the other military officers that had formerly been under his command, preferred to believe that he had disappeared rather than died. He was too stubborn to just stop living after finally reaching his goal. The casket they'd buried had been empty, so it was an easy denial to keep up. The body hadn't been found – oddly only his clothes had remained, sitting in a pool of blood. It had stumped the investigators for quite some time, until they simply wrote it off as a strange alchemical accident.

Rumours in Central also said that, though she was quickly on the rise through the ranks, Hawkeye would never take a rank higher than Colonel out of respect for Roy Mustang. Rumours were rumours, though. There were also some that said that she had nearly killed herself after his death, but that was a matter for her own heart, and not for the masses to judge. Since his disappearance, she had inherited almost all of Mustang's subordinates. It was still too early on for them to begin complaining about her iron-handed insistence on conformity to policy, though it was sure to start soon. She insisted that everything be perfect. There were some things in her nature that would not change, no matter what the rank. Sitting behind the desk that was formerly covered in piles of unsigned papers, she ran the office like a caring tyrant (if it was ever possible for there to be such a person). It was unusual for no one to be napping at that particular desk in Central, but now it was likely that laziness would never been seen again in its occupant.

Hawkeye sighed and looked across the office, empty for now while most people were on their lunch breaks. Often at times like this her mind would wander back to the Colonel and what he was doing, despite what the logical part of her brain told her. He'd gotten what he desired in Central – the reform of the military and the government, though he'd never be able to become Fuhrer even if he had been there now. It was almost better for him that he'd escaped. There was nothing here for him anymore. The pursuit of power after the coup was trivial. It was for rich or bored men with nothing else to challenge them. She hoped he'd found a new just cause to fight for wherever he was. She was considering taking a small break herself and going to the shooting range when the phone rang. Shaking herself out of her reverie, she leaned over and picked up the phone.

"Lt. Colonel, a call for you from a civilian line. One Alphonse Elric."

"Go ahead and put him through."

There was a brief rustle and some static on the line as the girl at the switchboard connected the call. It wasn't often that anyone called Hawkeye at work for anything other than business, and she sensed that Al wasn't making a social call.

"Hello Alphonse, what can I do for you?"

The boy on the other end of the line coughed shyly before he started. Hawkeye had an odd premonition of imminent doom, but brushed it aside. Alphonse was a nice boy; he couldn't have done anything that horrible. And anyway, Havoc was supposed to be there this afternoon sorting out the issues about his research funds. The call was probably about that. Maybe they had found a solution.

"Umm… I'm afraid I've got a bit of a problem. Does it still make a difference if the line is secure or not? You might not…"

"Oh, is it about that, Al? You know your brother and I never… well, I'd better call you back from another line. Just a moment, I'll call you back later." Hawkeye couldn't help smiling at herself. It was the sort of trick Mustang always used to pull with insecure calls. She straightened the things on her desk then went outside to use the phone booth a few blocks down. She didn't leave a note, assuming that no one would be back from lunch early enough to notice she'd been gone.

Inside the phone booth, she picked up the receiver and asked the operator for the number of the Rockbell's house in Rizembool. They connected her, and Al picked up again after barely one ring.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry Lt. Colonel Hawkeye. I don't know how it happened!"

There was a sinking feeling in the pit of Hawkeye's stomach. She was going to have to cover something up. What had he done? Turned Havoc into a chimera? She shivered. The boy was practically panicking on the other end.

"What happened, Al? Al, breathe." The boy on the other end paused a moment, apparently obeying her suggestion, then continued quickly, talking so fast that it was barely possible for Hawkeye to understand him.

"It was an accident. I was cleaning up after the baby, and it turns out it belonged to Dante and it summoned the gate and Havoc and I… we got pulled in. It snapped us over to some sort of alternate world where Ed ended up after he disappeared, but there was this explosion and I was sent back here and Havoc disappeared and I'm afraid of who might have been in the explosion and…" Hawkeye cut him off before he could stray further from what had happened to her subordinate.

"You lost Havoc in a… gate?"

"I know it sounds crazy, but you're going to have to believe me. It's where alchemical power comes from in this world… I can't explain it all now, but please trust me. I don't know what we're going to tell people."

Hawkeye took a breath and went over all the possibilities she could think of. She'd have to come up with a good reason for Havoc to take an extended leave of absence from work in Central. At least he wasn't a chimera…

"It's okay Al, I'll think of something. Is there anything you can do to get him back?"

"I'm going to work on it." He took a breath, seeming to calm down a little. "The accident actually showed me a lot of what I wanted to know about the gate. I think if I keep researching it I can find a way through to get him back. And my brother too, if he's still alright. Maybe even…" Hawkeye cut him off at the thought.

"How long do you think it will take you?"

"Months? A year? I'm not sure. It depends on how much progress I can make in the research. This is still stuff that no one has done before."

A sudden thought struck Hawkeye. She nodded to herself.

"I've got an idea Alphonse. It might not be the best for you, but it might actually help out in the long run. I'm going to say that Havoc has taken a sudden interest in your work himself and stayed to help you research in whatever way he can. Of course, in that case the military will also insist on sending you an actual alchemist to help you research as well."

Al considered this; an extra capable hand at research would be useful, though there weren't many alchemists in Central anymore. It didn't leave many promising options as to who his new research partner would be, but having anyone around would probably be useful. He thanked Hawkeye profusely and hung up. He wondered how she would ever justify any interest Havoc might take in alchemy, but decided that it was best left up to her to worry about. Al had plenty of other things weighing on his mind. Al returned the phone to its spot on the table and smiled at Winry, letting her know that he'd be fine now, then went back into his study.

----

Lieutenant Colonel Hawkeye placed the phone back in its cradle and turned to leave the phone booth. Instinctively she checked for anyone who may have been listening in. Her sudden rise through the ranks had embittered a lot of the same people Roy had angered in his rise to the top, and she wouldn't put them past pulling the same tricks on her. If they found out she'd lost Havoc in some kind of accident caused by a boy that wasn't even supposed to be funded by the State… she pushed the thought out of her mind. Worrying about that sort of thing would do her no good. Satisfied that no one was around, she walked back to her office. A clock on the wall of a nearby store told her that it was later than she'd thought it was. The men would be back in the office by now. She sighed, and prepared herself for whatever prank they'd decided to pull. It had been so much simpler when she could just ignore their planning and act annoyed when they harassed the Colonel, but now that she was the brunt of their jokes it wasn't as easy to turn the other cheek. She pushed the door to the office open and looked around. Nothing looked seriously out of place. None of the desks or chairs were upside down. Nothing was duct taped to the ceiling, nothing was on fire. Good. But Breda sat at Hawkeye's desk, both feet up on the table.

"You know," he said as she walked in, directing the comment more at her than Farman and Fury, who sat at the long table down the centre of the room, "I think Lt. Colonel Hawkeye's gotten a little big-headed since the BFP. She thinks she can take longer for lunch than the rest of us."

"BFP?"

Breda tried to look innocent, and it was Fury who answered.

"Big.. umm.. friendly promotion."

"Fantastic," offered Farman. Hawkeye ignored the glossed-over adjective and walked over to her desk.

"You're just jealous that Havoc and I got promoted farther than you. What did you fill the drawers with this time?"

Breda swung his feet down from the desk. "You know that's Major Havoc's job. Hey, where is Major Havoc, anyway?"

"Major Havoc's mom keeps calling here asking where he is," Farman added.

"He's taking an extended leave in Rizembool."

"Well, someone else can tell his mom that, then" Breda shrugged.

"Why?"

"She doesn't speak English! I don't even think what she speaks is a language." Breda continued in an atrocious high-pitched imitation of Havoc's mother's accent. "Ou est mon Jean? Ou? Ou?! 'E 'azn't called me!"

Hawkeye winced. She'd forgotten that she'd have to invent a story to tell Havoc's family as well. Mustang had really had it easier when it came to cover-ups. All he'd ever had to do was make up a story about how Ed had lost his arm. That was peanuts compared to explaining the disappearance of an entire officer.

"By the way, when is the new guy coming in?" Farman asked.

Hawkeye shrugged. "I don't know, today or tomorrow."

"I hear he thinks he's a ninja," Breda remarked sarcastically. "Then again, Major Havoc thought he was a ninja too."

"Breda, enough. Sergeant Gekkou does not think he's a ninja. Please try to be nice?"

"Hey," Breda sighed, giving up on playing against Hawkeye. She was no fun to argue with. "It's just a game we play. Hey Farman! Denny Broche: pirate or ninja?"

"Hmm, pirate."

"See?"

"Will you just give it a rest?"

"Wait, why is Havoc on extended leave?" Fury asked, steering the conversation back to what had bothered him about Hawkeye's excuse. "There's nothing for him to do in Rizembool."

Hawkeye sighed again. "Because he got a little more… involved with Al's research than he meant to."

"Did Al turn him into a chimera or something?"

"Well, no. He just kind of… lost him."

"Lost him?"

Farman stared wide-eyed at Hawkeye. Breda and Fury stared at Farman, then Breda turned to Fury.

"Well, looks like I win the bet. Havoc owes me twenty bucks. His eyes don't shoot lasers when he opens them."

Hawkeye hid her face in her hands as Farman got up and chased Breda out of her chair. He was usually laid-back, but for some reason the speculation on his eyes irked him. She sat down in the now vacated spot at her desk and started working out how she could get things sorted out in Rizembool. The only available alchemist in Central right now was Armstrong, and she wasn't sure how much help he would actually be to Alphonse. There was no question of him being willing though, and she was sure Al would find some sort of use for him. What mattered was the way it looked, anyway. She picked up the phone on her desk and called her secretary – it was still weird to have someone that would tell her to do her paperwork if she ever put it off – and asked her to call Armstrong and have him come to the office. He appeared, sparkles first, about ten minutes later. Hawkeye managed to get the other three to sit at the table as she paced the room and explained the plan. They finally had something a new mission in Central.