Each individual chapter will have a different rating, different pairings, different spoilers, and a different setting and timeline. Multiple people were involved in writing this fic, I do not claim to have written anything other than my own characters. I do however claim to have come up with the plot, story idea, and organizing it all. The others who write characters in this fic are well aware that I am posting it, and contribute willingly. This fic is an ongoing project with an unknown number of parts, with alternate storyline as of the fifth laboratory incident. Enjoy!
Cat in Dog's Clothing
Rating: PG
Pairings: None.
Disclaimer: I don't own FMA.
Spoilers: None really.
Setting: Park in Central City.
Timeline: In between the second and third negotiation sessions.
The sun shone down warm over his head and shoulders. He stood on the pebbled walkway, staring off at the pond that sparkled in the middle of the park.
Roy was tired. He was tired of working. He was tired of being strong.
He closed his eyes. Why was he here? He found that he couldn't remember.
The park bench was warm under his hands, the green paint soaking up the sunlight. He leaned his head back against the bench. Roy couldn't remember sitting down.
He watched the trees move with the wind and thought of nothing.
There was the tap...tap... of boots, as a seemingly normal, teenage boy walked up beside the dog of the military.
One emerald eye peered up, following the Colonel's line of sight, the other hidden behind stray blood red bangs. Hands shoved casually in the pockets of blue military issue pants, a cigarette sticking out of the corner of his mouth, the boy inquired in a tone that plainly showed his lack of a care for respecting the ranks, perhaps a bit familiar of a certain, recently deceased, pipsqueak of an alchemist.
"Whatcha lookin' at?"
It seemed that the Colonel didn't hear him for one long second. Then Roy blinked, eyes refocusing on the slender form in front of him.
"Nothing," he said dully, not moving. He could see from his position, after all.
The boy took a seat next to the man on the bench, crossing his legs comfortably with utter disregard to the fact that he was in the presence of a 'higher ranking officer'. Perhaps it would've reminded the man of a red coat and long blonde hair, and a loud and destructively short fuse.
"Got a light?"
Perhaps the man would've been reminded of all the times he'd let his dignity slip and given a quick snap for a certain blonde addict.
He closed his eyes again. Nothing to see here. "No," Roy replied bluntly.
"Don't believe I've introduced myself, Colonel Mustang," the boy flashed a fanged grin for a split second while Roy's eyes were closed.
"Major Fawkes, sir. Ashton Fawkes. Better known as the Predator Alchemist." The boy didn't bother to stick out his hand, as he knew it wouldn't have been taken even if he had.
"Colonel Roy Mustang," Roy said, and fell silent again.
The birds were chirping. Pleasant. He idly clenched one hand into a fist.
"Oh, but I knew that already, sir...your reputation precedes you, Flame..."
Emerald eye noted satisfactorily the tightening of a hand into a fist, and the boy continued his game.
"So tell me, Colonel, what brings you here this sickeningly lovely afternoon?"
"What brings me is my business," Roy said, eyes still closed. His fist tightened. "Seeing as I outrank you, Major." That last mocking sentence was hardly within standard protocol, but Roy couldn't bring himself to care.
"I'm sure you're aware that you've many enemies in these parts, Colonel..."
The boy absently traced something on his left palm and touched his fingertips to the cigarette clenched between his teeth, a tiny spark lighting the end as he took in a deep breath, slowly blowing out the smoke.
"What you're not aware of, however, is the true state of negotiations across the Ishbar border..." He stretched a bit languidly, almost too graceful to be a human trait, really. "Sure, you get your letters from the Second Lieutenant every so often...but he is after all just there as a guard...Intelligence hasn't told you a thing, have they?"
"You are stunningly inaccurate," Roy murmured.
The sun was pleasant on his face. He wondered what he would do for dinner tonight. Perhaps go to that little hole-in-the-wall noodle shop... Chat with that happy blonde kid and his ponytailed teacher some more. Pretend like his life wasn't falling down around him.
"Or perhaps you're the one who's inaccurate...you just don't know it..."
The boy looked up at the sky, taking another drag off the cigarette.
"You should watch over those close to you better, Colonel...you're going to end up losing more than just Edward Elric."
Roy stilled. He said, carefully, "And what would you know about that?"
He watched the leaves fall.
"I know a lot more than your intelligence knows...are you even aware of the reason they sent a diplomat with an entire platoon to guard him into Ishbar?"
The boy's voice didn't waver, his feint still flawless.
"Whether I am aware of certain operations or not is immaterial," Roy said, throat dry. He swallowed; there were no water fountains about. "If it is not my position to know, then I will not. Simple."
"Surprising...I would've thought you were smarter than that, Colonel..."
The mysterious boy grinned, not showing his teeth.
"I would've thought that you would already know about the successors of the Homunculus...about the high risk involved with negotiating terms with an Abomination created by humans...but then again...they can't tell the difference anyway..."
He exhaled smoke, flicking the cigarette off to the side. "Negotiations will take far longer than expected...do you really think that they will give in to your demands? The Ishbarites are already poised negatively with you military dogs..."
Getting to his feet, the young boy shoved his hands in his pockets again, starting to walk off. "Let's just say that Scar is going to be the least of your problems, Colonel Mustang...soon...very...very soon..." Without another word, before Roy could even look up, the boy had disappeared from sight.
Roy sat for a long time, watching the trees, the grass, people walking in the distance. He watched the spray of the fountain fall into the water, endlessly flinging itself up just to succumb to gravity again.
Roy Mustang was tired. So tired.
"Liar," he whispered to himself, hoping it was true.
Please review, constructive criticism and questions appreciated, flames will be deflected back at you by Roy. n.n;
