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Chapter 26: Changes
Roy sat up so suddenly that he narrowly missed cracking his head on the upper bunk and his healing ribs creaked in protest. His hair fell messily into his eyes and he ran his fingers back through it impatiently, leaving it tousled still as he scrubbed the sleep from his eyes, blinking to try and clear his vision as his eyes adjusted to the shadowy dimness of the room, lit only by the ambient light seeping in from the city outside. He must have forgotten to close the blinds before crashing in exhaustion. "What the hell are you doing sneaking around my rooms at this time of the night, Fullmetal?" Fuelled by a lack of sleep and the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, his voice was rough, lacking its usual velvet timbre, its nap ruffled up the wrong way, and yet somehow incredibly sexy for all that, and the fleeting thought crossed Ed's mind that in some ways he actually preferred seeing the man this way, caught off-guard and unmasked and human, and a sudden desire to just wrap his arms around the man and curl up against his warmth made itself known before the cooler half of his personality grabbed and quashed it with ruthless efficiency. Time for that later.
"Keep your voice down, won't you?" the blonde alchemist muttered as he moved swiftly to the man's bedside. He slipped a hand under Roy's arm, urging the man to rise. "Hurry up, we don't have much time. And don't think I'm not keeping track. This makes four you owe me – I'm going to have to start collecting soon at this rate."
"What are you talking about, and why…." The Fuhrer-elect found himself being yanked swiftly to his feet, and he resisted irritably, swaying with fatigue as he tried to wrest possession of his arm back. "Fullmetal, I demand…" he trailed off, realizing that his subordinate was in a mood, as Havoc was wont to say, and that there was only one way to get his attention. Fortunately, it was a method Roy Mustang had had much practice – and success with.
"Edward…if all you wanted was my…attentions…you could simply have asked. I haven't meant to overlook your needs, but getting…involved…with my work has always been one of my shortcomings." It wasn't so much what was said as how, and Roy put all his years of experience into the effort, drawing out the syllables of the younger man's name, savouring them on his tongue, utilizing the husky qualities of a sleep-roughed voice to purr over the words, carefully inserting pregnant pauses for effect and applying the very lightest of stresses on the sibilant that transformed the indication of notice from singular to plural, from matter-of-fact to something far more…suggestive. The younger man froze, and Roy smirked inwardly, counting down mentally in his head. So. Not one of his wittier efforts, but not bad given the ungodly hour. Three…two…one….
"Who the hell are you calling so short that he'd have to jump up to poke an ant in the eye to get its attention?" Ed went purple in the face from embarrassment, annoyance and the need to suppress the volume of his tirade, so that his voice came out in a cross between a guttural croak and a strangled hiss. The widening smirk that crept across Roy's face wasn't helping either. "Bastard. I swear, if I weren't bound by this damned contract, I'd…" he swallowed hard and turned away.
"You'd…?" Roy raised a mocking brow, tilting his head to one side as he stifled a yawn behind his hand, making it look as though he were momentarily caught in contemplative thought, and Ed bit his lip as he wondered irritably how the man could look so portrait-ready despite having been hauled out of bed unceremoniously but seconds ago. He glanced over at the clock on the mantelpiece and frowned. He'd already wasted five minutes arguing with Al and now with the person he was supposed to be rescuing – he had to be losing his touch.
"Never you mind. Now get up, bastard, I'm not kidding. I've got to get you away from here now." Roy blinked, puzzled at the tension in Ed's voice. He trusted the younger man implicitly, but it could be incredibly frustrating dealing with a mind that was racing on without leaving directions while expecting you to follow, and he ignored the voice in his head that pointed out that Ed had probably learnt that annoying trait from him. The younger man's eyes flickered over the rumpled uniform shirt and pants that Roy was still wearing, but there was nothing indecorous about the look, only an impersonal calculation. "And strip while you're at it; if he sees your uniform lying about, he'll assume you just left your room to use the john, which will give us a few more minutes since he'll probably lie in wait here for you to return. Oh for crying out loud, you can keep your undershirt and boxers on!" he snapped at the look of disbelief on Roy's face. "Don't flatter yourself, I'm not going to jump you."
"You did once," Roy pointed out, carefully keeping his tone light as he moved to obey, though he couldn't keep his lips from twitching. "And who, exactly, is he?"
Ed shrugged, apparently having decided that the dignified thing to do would be to overlook Roy's last statement, although the hard glare he shot his way warned Roy not to push it – at least, not yet. "Don't know yet since I don't know the roster. Some lackey of Hakuro's with a background in covert ops, or he wouldn't be entrusted with the task."
"Of what, exactly?" The adrenaline in his system was starting to dissipate, and Roy could feel the beginnings of a tension headache throbbing behind his eyes as he threw on the spare set of civvies he kept on base. Emergency or not, he was not appearing in public in his underwear – the Fuhrer-elect had to have some shred of dignity. "Outraging my modesty?" He knew his sluggish, half-asleep mind was not making some easy, obvious connection, and it infuriated him no end. Hakuro…covert ops…oh. Oh. He knew he'd overlooked something last night, what with having to put up with Maes well-intended intervention and Ed's odd behaviour.
The blonde alchemist let out a quiet snort of amusement. "Please, given your reputation with the ladies, I doubt you have any modesty left to outrage. You really are terrible without coffee – I hope Hughes has some. Assassinating you, of course. Now come on," and before Roy could protest, could say that he was certainly not going to run, he was the Flame Alchemist, damn it – he stepped forward, took the taller man by the shoulders and reached.
When the door finally opened silently, the barest of slits, to reveal a pale-eyed warrant officer, the room was quite empty, a carelessly discarded uniform strewn on the floor as if the wearer had stripped it off and tossed it aside on the way to bed, its buttons and medals winking as they caught the faint light that fanned in through the crack.
Havoc drove like a madman through the largely deserted streets and did his best to keep his mind off the backseat where Hawkeye was wriggling into her uniform. They had made a hasty stop at her apartment, with the Major refusing to even take the time to change, instead snatching at neatly hanging items in her closet and racing back out to the car, boots in the other hand. Havoc had taken the opportunity while waiting for her to strip out of his own civvies and change into the spare uniform he kept in the small boot of his car – you didn't work for Mustang without being prepared to move on a moment's notice.
"Make a left up ahead, we've got to pick up Colonel Armstrong," Hawkeye mumbled around a mouthful of hairpins, her fingers flying over her hair as she twisted it up into its usual sleek lines, an operation which Havoc watched with some regret as he glanced up at the rear-view mirror. Her eyes met his briefly, but there was no hint of embarrassment for her dishevelled state in them as she swiped at her face with a handful of tissues, taking off most of her makeup, only a grim look of concern. Modesty was among the first things to go when you were a woman fighting for your place in a man's world, and Riza Hawkeye was an exceptional soldier by any standards. Only someone who knew her well could have seen the tension in her face, the strain reflected in the lines of her throat as she berated herself for leaving her CO in danger.
"It's not your fault, Riza." Her head jerked up from its bowed position over her lap where she had been furiously loading their sidearms, anger and fear making her clumsy. Jean's eyes were serious in the mirror. "It's never going to be any different. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, and Roy chose this path for himself. The boss will get to him in time – he'd die before he let anything happen to the General, you know that." He fought down the acrid lick of jealousy that rose up in his throat like bile as he watched the woman he loved fret over another man. It was only the worry of a good subordinate for her CO's safety, a CO that he followed and respected as well. He was being silly…right?
"So would I," she finally choked out. "How could I have been so careless? To overlook the fact that Hakuro controls the guards at Central…my god, if Al hadn't been unable to sleep – if Ed hadn't realized what was happening…." Not for the first time, she admitted to herself that much as the past four years had hurt everyone who cared about the older Elric brother, the skills he had returned with had proven invaluable. She didn't think they would be inaugurating the new Fuhrer next week if not for Auric turning up when he had, and she was glad that the Gatekeeper's personality was still present in the restored Fullmetal Alchemist.
"I'm as much to blame," her companion said tersely as he ignored a stop sign and took a corner at high speed, tires squealing. He could see the Armstrong manse up ahead and a hulking figure waiting for them at the gate. So Alphonse had managed to get the Colonel, that was good. The younger Elric demonstrated a real flair for logistics, remaining cool under pressure. At this moment, he was supposed to be rousing units loyal to Mustang, including Havoc's own company, and the Captain had no doubt that Al would have all the pieces in place to move immediately once they arrived. "I'm in charge of security, remember?"
"We were all careless," she sighed bitterly. "So happy to be back from the front, to be so close to our goal, to have Edward back…stupid, stupid, stupid, that's how wars are lost." Her hand grabbed a handful of rough blue wool uniform, knuckles whitening. "If anything happens to the General, I'll never forgive myself, Jean. And I swear I'll kill Hakuro."
Jean slammed on the brakes, bringing the car to a screeching halt before Colonel Armstrong and leaning over to open the door for the large man who wedged himself swiftly into the tiny passenger seat with surprising grace. Instead of pulling away immediately however, Jean twisted himself around to regard the slight woman in the back seat. "With all due respect, Major," and he noted with satisfaction the stiffening effect this appeared to have on Hawkeye's spine, "this war ain't over until it's over. So we haven't lost anything yet. You've got to have more faith in the Flame and the Fullmetal. When you pick a good horse, you ride it to the end. And I'll bet a whole year's pay that we see the inauguration of Fuhrer Mustang next week." And with that, he threw the car into gear and floored the gas, eyes firmly forward.
Armstrong looked from one set face to the other. His moustache quivered. And Riza knew what was about to happen. Pink sparkles seemed to light the interior of Havoc's small car as she opened her mouth to protest faintly, "No, really, Colonel, it's…."
"Ah, Captain Havoc, what a stirring speech! I never thought you such the poet! While colloquial, it was worthy of the Armstrongs on the eve of battle – indeed, an Armstrong at the Battle of Homsberg in 1812…."
"Captain," the Major ground out underneath the Colonel's hearty reminiscences, "drive faster." The brown eyes that flicked up to meet hers in the rear-view mirror held and mirrored the hint of laughter in her eyes. And she could see them widen momentarily as they read the thanks in her eyes – and saw the affection that lurked beneath.
"…perhaps General Mustang might even permit me to compose a poem to commemorate his inauguration. After all, the Armstrongs have traditionally played a prominent role at such events…."
The lights were already on in the Hughes household when the Fuhrer-elect and the Fullmetal Alchemist simply appeared in the middle of the living room, Ed noted approvingly. Al must have had the foresight to call Maes and brief him on the situation. Just as Alp would have.
"Roy! You all right?" Maes sprung up from the writing table he had been seated at.
"Just dandy," his friend drawled sarcastically. "If you don't count being worked to the bone, missing dinner and then being woken up in the middle of the night by an irascible blonde. And oh, did I mention another assassination attempt?" Roy knew he sounded peevish, but this was Maes and it was all true and what was the point of almost being Fuhrer if he couldn't indulge in a temper tantrum every once in a while? And where the hell was the coffee in this place?
Maes coughed discreetly, lips twitching despite the circumstances. "The first two sound terrible, I agree…but shouldn't you be used to the third given your, uh, proclivities?" A dark look was shot his way and he shrugged. "What, you've always preferred blondes."
"This is way too much information," interjected said irascible blonde irascibly. "Could we please get off the subject of Roy's – I mean, the bastard General's bed partners and back on the topic of assassination attempts and what to do about them?"
"Jealous, Fullmetal?" was the snide comment from said bastard General as he seated himself gracefully on the nearest armchair. "Given your lack of experience, I mean."
"You wish, old man," Ed shot back. For some reason, the banter was starting to make him feel better, the awkwardness he had been feeling around Roy slowly dissipating and the hard knot in his stomach unravelling ever so slowly. The familiarity of it all, he supposed. "Just bored with all this talk of blondes – I prefer redheads myself, they're fiery." Actually, dark-haired, dark-eyed and smirking was closer to the truth, but he savoured the moment as Roy's eyes narrowed and bored into his. He'd always found Roy's eyes fascinating, such a dark shade of blue that they looked black most of the time, except if you looked really, really closely in the right light. Then they were a deep blue, like the ocean at night, with sparks of gleaming phosphorescence when the man got really riled up. Like right about now.
Roy opened his mouth to say something truly awful, but caught himself in time as Gracia Hughes made a smiling, gracious entrance, as unruffled as if they had been attending a dinner party over which she was presiding, instead of fleeing assassins. "Roy, so good to see you again, even if it isn't under the best of circumstances."
"Gracia. You're looking lovely, as always." All of Roy's ingrained chivalry automatically came to his rescue and kicked him into rising. "Forgive the intrusion at this ungodly hour, but Fullmetal thought this was the most secure place on short notice." Gracia turned, her eyes filling with tears as Ed stood up a little straighter, smiling uncomfortably. For a moment, no one said anything, then Gracia suddenly rushed forward and threw her arms around Ed.
"Oh…Edward…how you've grown!" Ed hesitated a moment, then wrapped his arms around her motherly figure. She felt comforting, and he let his head drop a little, relaxing in her embrace and breathing in her warm, flowery scent that had always reminded him of his own mother. "When we thought you were dead…Alicia was inconsolable…she'll be so happy to see you!"
He nodded into her shoulder. "I can't wait to see her in person either," and he glared over Gracia's shoulder at Maes as he stressed the words. The big man looked worried as he whipped the photo album back behind his back, perhaps remembering the Gatekeeper's facility with knives, specifically the throwing of them. "But right now we kind of have…things…to discuss."
As befitting a long-time military wife, Gracia seemed to understand almost instinctively. She let go of Ed and stepped back, putting a bright smile on her face. "Of course you do. I'll leave you men to it then. I also have a pot of coffee on in the kitchen, if you don't mind talking back there – it's warmer than it is here too." She turned to leave, dropping a kiss on her husband's cheek, then suddenly turned at the door. "Be careful…all of you. Ed, take care of Roy. He needs someone to look out for him, now more than ever." And she sailed out serenely, having thrown a match into the gunpowder keg.
"Maes, what have you been telling your wife?" Roy gritted out between clenched teeth as he reached into his pocket for his lighter. He was the bloody Flame Alchemist and he could take care of himself, and the fact that Ed had saved him numerous times over the past few weeks and that he rather enjoyed knowing that Ed was looking out for him was neither here nor there, thank you very much.
"Why do I have to look after the deadbeat?" Ed spluttered simultaneously in indignation. The fact that he would have anyway because he owed the man multiple times over for looking out for Al and him as kids and helping him on his quest for the stone, and because he lov…liked the man was not the point, not the point, he chanted mentally to himself.
Maes Hughes took a deep breath and levelled accusing fingers at the two pissed-off State Alchemists in his living room. "Roy. You do need looking after. You may be one of the most politically astute, conniving bastards it has ever been my privilege to know, but as an officer, you should know it's your right and your duty to delegate certain responsibilities. Like your personal safety. You're a bigger target than ever, especially during this transition period before your hold on power is consolidated, and you need to be able to take your mind off watching your back so that you can keep it on the big picture, things like rebuilding the nation and taking Amestris to peace and prosperity. You're no longer just 'Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist,' – you're going to be 'Roy Mustang, Fuhrer,' and that's a whole other kettle of fish." He nodded meaningfully at the dawning realization in his friend's face as the reality of what they were about to take on sank in. Amidst all the chaos of doing, Roy hadn't really had the chance to come to terms with what becoming Fuhrer would entail. Heavy indeed was the head that wore the crown.
And as for the Fullmetal Alchemist…"As for you, Ed, you're already committed to it – yes, you are," he said firmly as the blonde opened his mouth to object, "because your sense of responsibility won't allow you anything less, and because it's an order from a superior officer, Lieutenant Colonel Elric…not to mention that issue of honouring Auric's contract."
"No wonder the Guild always avoided getting mixed up with the military," muttered Ed, "you're a bunch of power-mad martinets." His lips quirked in a resigned smile, the bout of reflexive petulant resistance gone as abruptly as it had come on. "Fine, when you put it that way."
"Too right," said Maes cheerfully. He looked over at Roy, whose eyes had gone from stunned to hooded and his face expressionless in the manner that generally meant he was about to do something incredibly self-sacrificing, or stupid, or possibly both. Uh-oh.
"Gatekeeper." Ed's head snapped around with a jerk. "What are the conditions for our contract to be dissolved?"
"Conclusion, or my release at your pleasure, or my death," Ed responded warily.
Roy nodded, as if that had been the answer he was expecting. "Then I release you from our contract, Gatekeeper."
Ed whirled on him, eyes blazing. "You can't do that!" For some reason, he felt as though the ground under his feet had suddenly fallen away from him and he was lost, spinning into a maelstrom without a tether, lost, falling…and cold, so cold.
"I can, and I have," his ex-client shrugged nonchalantly, heading towards the kitchen. "Now, who wants coffee?" Maes gaped as his old friend brushed by him, but recovered himself in time to reach out and snag Roy's arm. The man turned, the smooth, implacable mask of the Fuhrer-elect now fully in place.
"Yes, Brigadier?"
"Roy…don't do this. Stop closing yourself off from help. You can't do it alone." The phone rang in the next room, and rang again, and Maes groaned. "That'll be Al letting me know the progress of the round-up. They should have picked up the assassin from your rooms at the very least. You two, stay here. Don't kill each other. And for the love of god, talk to each other before I get Armstrong to knock your heads together." He backed out of the room slowly.
There was a heavy silence in the room as the two men avoided each other's eyes. Roy sat down tiredly on the nearest armchair and put his head in his hands, his mask slipping for a moment. Ed regarded the man with narrowed eyes, then shrugged philosophically and padded out of the room. A clattering could be heard, and then Ed reappeared in the doorway with a couple of mugs of coffee, one of which he handed silently to Roy, who accepted it without much fuss. The silence again descended, but it was more comfortable this time as they sipped from their mugs, and Roy finally stirred.
"Thanks."
Ed nodded. "Almost as good as mine, eh?" A hint of laughter rose in his eyes.
"Your humility becomes you," Roy remarked wryly.
"I learnt from the best," came the pointed reply. "You might know him. Tall, dark, incredibly good-looking, absolutely insufferable when you get him started…." That earned him a half-hearted glare, and he rejoiced inwardly, because that meant that Roy wasn't hiding behind that irritatingly cool mask. "Besides, it's a fact. Now, what was that about?" Change of tactics. Perhaps if he sounded reasonable and adult enough, if he could just understand Roy's reasoning, he could find a way to make the man change his mind. He supposed he could try and beat it out of the man, but he didn't think Gracia would appreciate her house being destroyed, and anyway…you always had to have a fallback plan.
Roy arched a brow elegantly at him. "I have no idea what you mean, Fullmetal. You seemed to resent being bound by our agreement. I would have thought you would be ecstatic to be released from it."
"Again, I learnt from the best. The 'what' is almost always insufficient. It's the 'why' that needs answering." Ed refused to look away as Roy's eyes came up to meet his, a strange heat rising in his cheeks. They could hear Maes talking on the phone in the next room, and a part of Ed badly wanted to know how things were going back at Central, but for some reason this was important. That strange sense of purpose that had awakened after his talk with Al was pushing him to stop running away and get a grip on the tangled fates that lay before him, and he knew with a certainty that the dark-eyed man before him was the key to it all. And damn it, it was time they started to talk to each other like adults.
Roy sat back again, his eyes going hooded again. "I've already told you why."
"No, you've told me why you think I should be happy about it. Why are you doing this?" Ed nudged. "The Roy Mustang I remember wouldn't have hesitated to use the contract to further his goals."
"Maybe I've already achieved my goals."
Ed snorted, slapping his hands down on the coffee table, making his now empty mug jump. "Bullshit. You won't be happy until you're safely enthroned with the power to stop all the senseless fighting. And as tonight's proven, you need me. Maybe you think you can use the military chain-of-command to get the same results, but you're always about the backup plan. So why get rid of it?" His eyes narrowed in thought. "Unless…unless you think that nullifying the contract is necessary to achieving some other goal. But what?"
Roy studied the intent face that he had watched grow from boy into man, from reluctant subordinate to something approaching friendship – and that could perhaps grow into something more, if circumstances didn't always seem to come between them. Ed was always one to throw himself headlong into the thick of things in pursuit of the answer to a question, and the Flame Alchemist knew from experience that the Fullmetal was not going to let this drop. "I'll make a deal with you. You tell me why you're so bothered by being released from our agreement, and I'll tell you why I'm doing it. Fair enough?"
There had to be a catch somewhere, the blonde alchemist thought as he stared suspiciously at the Fuhrer-elect. But he wasn't going to get anywhere without it, so…he shrugged fatalistically. Gatekeeper axiom: know when to lose the battle to win the war. Sometimes you had to give the enemy an opening to lure him within striking distance. "Yes. Who goes first?"
A smirk. "I asked."
"Bastard," Ed muttered. "Fine. Just remember, you asked for it." His hand reached subconsciously towards his chest, rubbing at his scar nervously as he took a deep breath and began.
