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Chapter 25: Half Past Midnight

The soldiers on guard duty at HQ normally spent it in shifts of two hours each, making circuits that crossed another's path every forty minutes, each encounter with a different guard, each guard acknowledging the other with a sign and countersign, before the original pair met again at the change of shifts. However, when the Fuhrer was in residence, or failing that, the Fuhrer-elect, the number of guards was increased to enable shifts to be changed every hour, on the hour, with the circuits taken being tightened up to allow the guards to cross paths every half-hour instead. On the one hand, it helped to increase security, since in theory, intruders had a few minutes less to go about their merry way. On the other hand, more people moving around meant more moving parts, more likely near crossings in corridors – and more opportunities for a guard to slip away unseen. A certain anonymity in numbers, and who could tell identity from a grey uniformed shoulder or back disappearing round a corner or down a hallway?

A cricket chirped again, once, twice, loud in the heavy stillness that seemed to have fallen over Central. The warrant officer with the colourless eyes pursed his lips and mimicked the cry back to listening ears, although the muffled sounds of his boots thumping down the carpeted corridor betrayed no change in his by-the-book marching gait. He rounded a corner and acknowledged the guardsman who crossed the hall towards him. Sign and countersign were exchanged, a friendly brisk nod to the fresh-faced young corporal, and the lanky warrant officer moved on. His back remained straight and his posture impeccable until he rounded the next corner and nodded once to the soldier who emerged from the shadows. Again, a sign and countersign were flashed, but this time something slipped between palms, and then the other slipped silently back into the shadows as the warrant officer turned down a corridor leading away from his circuit and towards his target. Although his pale face and hooded eyes betrayed no outward signs of emotion, inside he was wriggling with sick fear and an odd anticipation which quickened his steps.

He checked his pocket-watch, more from jitters than an actual need to know the time, because it was seared into his mind. Half-past midnight. The corporal wouldn't expect to see him again until one o'clock, by which time the deed would be done. From his current position, it would take him ten minutes to slip past the guards standing in between him and his objective, owing to the circuitous route he would take to evade the many men patrolling the building tonight. Then ten minutes to do the deed, allowing for any difficulties with access to the target, and another ten to slip back to his post for the change of shifts. He was confident that he would succeed in his assignment - General Hakuro himself had impressed upon him the importance of his actions tonight, and his heart swelled at the confidence the General had placed in his abilities. Still, he found himself glancing at his watch again, squeezing it tighter than he had to, until he could feel the metal etching on the watch-case cut into his hand. Just breathe, he told himself firmly and with a touch of impatience, it's like any other assignment. However, he realized to his annoyance that his palms were sweaty, and as he wiped them impatiently on his pant legs in a complete breach of uniform regulations, he decided that, in this case, some degree of nervousness was excusable as long as it did not imperil the mission.

It wasn't everyday that a mere warrant officer was entrusted with the necessary assassination of a State Alchemist, decorated war hero and Fuhrer-to-be after all.


A pair of shadows stole down the darkened hallway, carefully avoiding the guard marching stiffly down the centre of the corridor. Eyes staring firmly forward under the visor of his cap, the earnest looking corporal failed to notice the cloaked figure hiding in the shadow of a doorway or the larger figure concealing himself behind a towering suit of armour, and the two heaved silent sighs of relief as his footsteps died away. "When this is all over, remind me to rewrite the policies and procedures for guard duty," muttered the shorter of the duo, pushing back his hood as he peered out of the doorway. "Some job he's doing. A herd of cattle could come through here and he wouldn't notice."

"If he were doing a good job, we would have been discovered," pointed out the other in hushed tones as he stepped out gingerly from behind the armour display. "Although…why exactly are we sneaking around? We're officers, we have a right to be walking about even after lights-out. Shouldn't we be alerting the guards and getting to the General as quickly as possible?"

Edward Elric shrugged. "Because I don't know that my suspicions are wholly founded as yet, Al. Wouldn't want to cause unnecessary panic now, would we?" His eyes glinted in the faint light from a skylight above, faintly amused. "Maybe one of the men has a pet cricket from home. Not sure why you'd keep an insect as a pet though."

Alphonse Elric rolled his eyes, his lips quirking momentarily despite the seriousness of the situation. He suspected that Ed was enjoying this cloak-and-dagger stuff rather more than he was willing to admit. "Please brother, spare me the humility. You've never been anything less than certain about your instincts."

"Cynic," Ed replied amiably. "Fine, then because if I'm right, there's a very strong likelihood that at least some of the guards are in on the plot, and we wouldn't want to alert them prematurely. Whose unit traditionally provides the security detail anyway?"

"That would be…let me think…General Hakuro," Al frowned. "And he would have much to gain from removing General Mustang."

The tight smile he got in reply was feral. "Ah, that siren song – pride, power and glory. I haven't seen Hakuro since…well, since my exams, I think. Or maybe Lior. Wasn't he already a Major General then?" Al nodded soberly. "Must stick in the old man's craw then, having to watch Mustang rise so rapidly through the ranks to become his equal – and now to have him elevated to Fuhrer…he's got to know his days are numbered; he was too close to Bradley and Mustang's not stupid. Oh hang on, the idiot was careless enough to put himself in a vulnerable position like this. Lazy bastard."

"He's been very busy, brother," Al demurred meekly, but with a distinct note of accusation in his voice. "And he's been a little distracted of late. He worries about his people, you know – some more than others." Ed glanced away guiltily, and Al decided that his arrow had found its desired target. "Come on, we should hurry, his rooms are this way, aren't they? Hey - can you teleport us there?"

"I could," Ed admitted. "But I don't think…oh, crap," and he yanked Al back into the darkness of the doorway as footsteps were heard in the distance. They paused, and then moved on again, their stride determined and purposeful. Before the brothers could unfreeze from their cover however, a stealthy figure padded past them. Al could feel his brother's arm trembling as he pressed the younger man back against the hard wooden door. They waited, barely breathing, until the quiet footpads had died away.

Ed stepped out into the hallway, face grim. "That was probably one of them passing along the weapon to be used – that was not a scheduled hand-off." His teasing mood seemed to have evaporated in an instant. "It'll take the other one about ten minutes to get to Roy's rooms, assuming he tries to avoid crossing any of the other guards' paths. You're right, we need to move quickly."

"Why didn't you take them out then?" asked Al worriedly, though a small part of his mind noted with satisfaction the general's sudden change of status from "idiot" to "Roy". His brother grimaced.

"I'd like nothing better, but I don't know if they have any other rendezvous planned – don't want to tip our hand too early. We should split up." Al could feel his brother's breath tickle his ear. "I'll go after Mustang, get him someplace safe, probably Hughes's until we can check out Mustang's own house and make sure there aren't any unpleasant surprises waiting there. You need to find Major Hawkeye or Colonel Armstrong and some backup – we need to take all the guards into custody ASAP because there have to be at least a couple of them in on it, and we don't want to give them sufficient warning to flee – or to warn Hakuro, for that matter. And send a trusted detail over to Hughes's to watch the place so I can leave – I want to be here for the interrogations."

"I am not letting you do this on your own!" hissed Al as quietly as possible as he hunched over to hear his brother better. "Someone has to keep an eye on you. What if there are more than just a couple of them? What if something happens to you before you reach the General? What would I tell Winry then?"

Both brothers winced simultaneously at the thought of what Winry Rockbell Elric would do to them if either one got hurt. Then Ed rolled his eyes huffily. "I'm not going to fight them, Al, just get Mustang away from here. You're wasting time!" He could sense his brother taking a breath to continue arguing, and clapped a hand firmly over Al's mouth before any sound could be made. "Look, if it's an assassination, I doubt it's going to be done by committee. One, at most two men. Okay? Trust me, I've dealt with this sort of thing before. Anyway, I'll just teleport us out of harm's way, no big deal. Or I'll transmute the first couple into armchairs and bar the doors…kidding!" he added lamely at his brother's look of horror. "Just trying to lighten up the situation."

Al moaned softly as he rubbed at his forehead. "It's too late in the night for bad jokes, brother. And you're better at them when you're not trying so hard."

"Never too early in the morning though," Ed offered, "after all, it's half-past midnight now." His smile was glittering and his eyes hard, and Al suddenly remembered wondering what sort of life gave you eyes like those, and realized his subconscious had come up with an answer. Lieutenant Colonel Edward Elric was starting to bear a startling resemblance to another young Lieutenant Colonel with dark hair who had visited the sleepy town of Risembool on a stormy night eight years ago. Apart from not being a smirking show-off and superior know-it-all of course, he instinctively added with a brother's defensiveness; the General was particularly talented in that regard.

And then Ed…smirked.

"Go on, Major Elric. I'd start by calling the Green Lion restaurant; I think Havoc was taking Hawkeye there for dinner tonight. He can be so predictable." And with that, he stepped backwards, touched two fingers to his brow in a mock salute and disappeared, with only the faintest rush of air on Al's cheeks as molecules rushed forward to fill the vacuum left by his passing.

Yep. Definite resemblance there. Al sighed as he headed in the direction of their offices to use the phones. He'd call the Green Lion first, and then Armstrong's house. Oh well - at least he didn't have to worry about Ed becoming a notorious womanizer - with his looks, that could have devastating repercussions. Although he had no idea how he was going to explain the reason for that to Winry.


"Half-past midnight," said Riza Hawkeye lightly to her date. "Shouldn't we have turned into pumpkins by now?" They were the last couple left in the restaurant, having lingered over their after-dinner coffees as they chatted of sailing ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings, as the poem would have it. Most of the other tables had been cleared, and a bent old janitor shuffled around the room upending the chairs onto the tables. Their waiter blinked sleepily from the corner of the bar, too polite to shoo them out. They were an attractive couple, after all, the determined looking blonde woman and her lanky escort; by their bearing, definitely military, and given that they'd just won a war, he thought they deserved a little consideration. Plus they had tipped him very well when he had brought the cheque over earlier.

Jean Havoc smiled lazily as he leaned back in his chair, dirty blonde fringe falling into his eyes. "That only happens if the princess isn't supposed to be at the ball."

"So I'm not a princess?" Riza asked with mock asperity. "In case you hadn't noticed, Captain, I still outrank you, so I'd watch what I was saying if I were you."

"And we're out of uniform, so that doesn't count," was the mild rejoinder. "You're definitely a princess though. A queen, in my eyes. But you're supposed to be right here with me, and I'm not letting you go, Cinderella," laughed Jean. "Took me long enough to find you, after all." He watched admiringly as a faint flush stained her cheeks. Her hair tumbled loose about her shoulders, and he thought he'd never seen a prettier sight. "Our ball is going to last forever."

Riza shook her head affectionately even as the pragmatic side of her asserted itself. "Nothing in life lasts forever, Jean. We're soldiers, we should know that."

"Oh Riza…for one moment, forget the military," sighed the man as he reached across the table and took her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. "I know, I know, it's a part of who you are, and I love you for it. But just for a little while, let's pretend there isn't anyone else that matters but us. Okay?"

She hesitated, uncertain if she could make such a leap. Her sense of self clung protectively to the hard-won military exterior that had defined her for so long, had provided protection, and strength, and a purpose. And then she met his eyes, kind and gentle and hopeful and reassuring, offering warmth and love and acceptance, and she did what any soldier worth her salt would do. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders, tossed her hair back, leaned forward, and kissed him chastely. Her eyes were bright as she pulled away, as were his as he stood and moved to pull her chair out for her to rise. He offered her his arm, and she took it, and as one they turned towards the door, the knowing smile of their waiter following them as he leaned over the counter to answer the phone ringing behind the bar.

"Wait, who is this? What was the name again…State Alchemist? Oh! Excuse me, sir? Ma'am?" The couple turned in surprise. "I'm sorry to trouble you, but is one of you Major Hawkeye?" The woman stepped forward, the soft animation that had lit her face but seconds ago fading abruptly as her unusual reddish-brown eyes sharpened in keen attention, and the waiter found himself feeling sorry for the man who watched her go with an expression of wry affection in which resignation and resentment were mingled.

"I am. What is it?"

"I beg your pardon, Major, but I have a State Alchemist, a Major Elric on the phone for you, ma'am. He says it's very urgent." Riza's brows arched in surprise as she reached for the receiver, frowning. The waiter stepped away discreetly to give her some privacy, sidling over to the man waiting patiently by the door. "Sir? Are you in the military too?"

Havoc looked down at the shorter man in surprise. "Yes. Why?"

"I was just wondering…" hedged the waiter nervously. "Major Elric – is that the famous Fullmetal Alchemist?"

"No, but close. His brother, the Earth Moving Alchemist."

"Oh." Havoc could see that the waiter desperately wanted to say something else, so he waited. "Do you know the Fullmetal Alchemist then?"

"Sure, he's sorta like my boss, why?" Havoc watched in amusement as the man knotted his fingers together nervously, a dawning hope in his eyes.

"Might I ask you for a favour? Would it be possible…do you think I could have his autograph?" The man shifted nervously from foot to foot. "I'm…my whole family…we're great admirers of him, you see."

Oh, the boss would get a kick out of this one. If he didn't blow up the restaurant first. And then all such thoughts were driven from his mind as Riza slammed the phone down and pivoted sharply on her heel. "Captain Havoc. We've got to go. Now."


A convulsive shiver and Roy Mustang was suddenly awake, his consciousness rousing itself from a restless sleep, although he couldn't have explained why if he tried. Old habits of a life spent en garde, he supposed, of a life spent navigating serpentine labyrinths of deceit and treachery and the attendant need to watch his back and those of the men – and women – who followed him. The small clock on the mantelpiece chimed the half hour softly as he lay there unmoving, nerves quivering and alert as his senses reached out into the darkness beyond his eyelids trying to figure out why his instincts were jarringly on edge. And then he heard it again. The barest rustle of cloth, so soft that it might have been mistaken for one of the normal small sounds of the night, except that he knew with a certainty that it was not. Someone else was in his room, and given that there had been no announcement of the person's presence, he thought he was quite justified in assuming the worst. People generally didn't creep into his rooms at half-past midnight with benevolent intentions, and no, that love struck girl who had crept into his bunk when he was a wet-behind-the-ears newly minted Major didn't count, because as pretty as she had been, jumping his bones could hardly have been construed as a benign act. Or a sane one, for that matter. Although it had done wonders to cement his fast-growing reputation.

He had fallen asleep curled up on his side; still feigning sleep, he rolled over onto his back, allowing his breath to deepen and relax as he settled into his new position, which had the advantage of leaving both his arms free. The hardened soldier in him cursed himself mentally for not having lighter or gloves immediately to hand; he would have to do this the old-fashioned way then, and he had to be getting old, because he could swear that his hands were already aching in anticipation of the blows they would have to strike, quick, hard, designed to instantly incapacitate or at the very least, disarm. Mental note to self, he thought ruefully, remind Hawkeye to make time in his diary regularly for physical rehabilitation and training if she hadn't already. Nearly silent footsteps neared his bed, and he tensed ever so slightly, suppressing the urge to leap up and confront the intruder, the lighter he had carelessly left in his pocket pressing painfully against his thigh as he willed his body to an alert stillness. The footsteps stopped. And then a wryly amused whisper came floating through the darkness.

"You know, while it is of immense gratification that you're finally starting to get it through your thick skull that you need to be careful whenever I'm not around to save your sorry ass…that really doesn't apply in this situation given that I'm standing right here."