Transplantations, Story 6

Rating: PG, a very little mild language, mild licentiousness, and a quick innuendo

Disclaimer: Lord John Marbury is from a West Wing episode, and I'm not Aaron Sorkin. Or Arakawa-san.

Series Summary: Stories wherein characters from other universes are integrated into the FMA universe.

Chapter Summary: Roy is sent on an important diplomatic mission... with a highly-qualified foriegn ambassador who thinks his name is Gerald.

Notes: Stole a lot of lines from the West Wing, but as Sam a character from it himself said, "Good writers borrow from other writers. Great writers steal outright." Not-- that I'm making any claim to greatness. ; Knowledge of the West Wing is not necessary, as we're only dealing with one character who was in three episodes total (unless I missed one).

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6. Lord John Marbury

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"Big news," said Hughes, when Roy finally got to the phone. "They changed their minds. They will send an ambasador."

"Damn," said Roy. "For a second there I thought you were saying I could go home."

"Sorry," Hughes said, remarkably unapologetically. "Anyway, he's going to be--"

"'He'? Damn." Roy looked out the train window as he sat down in front of the operator's desk, the operator having cleared out to make room for the official military business.

"What, you were hoping for a woman!"

"Some of us are still single, Hughes, difficult as that might be for you to process. Forgive me for being unattached."

"Yeah, but still, you'd hardly want to be distracted at this kind of negotiation..."

"I assure you I am perfectly capable of flirting and completing work at the same time. In fact, sometimes there's hardly any difference."

"Riiiight. I'm not gonna think about what that says about our diplomatic corps. But anyway--"

"Maybe I should get a job like that," Roy mused. "An ambassadorship, somewhere with beaches..."

"And, of course, women in skimpy bathing suits."

"Of course. Otherwise, what would be the point?"

"Riiight. Fortunately for our country, you have too much ambition to be satisfied with an ambassadorship for long."

"You are, of course, saying it's fortunate because my amazing skills are desperately needed domestically." Roy polished his nails on his shirt-jacket, a faint smile on his face.

"No, it's fortunate because I like not being at war."

"You're saying I can't be diplomatic!"

"No. Of course you can be diplomatic. But you scare me when you're diplomatic. And tactful. You never used to be tactful. You used..." Hughes broke into a convenient coughing fit.

Roy decided he didn't want to press the issue. "Speaking of tactlessness, how's Fullmetal doing, have you heard?"

"Ah, last time I got a report, he had run into the first of the five things you didn't tell him about. Literally. But we think he was mostly uninjured."

"Wha-- oh, run into. I see." Roy paused. "How'd he manage to do that?"

"Well, think about it, it would be pretty easy if you didn't know about it. Especially if you also didn't know the second, fourth, and fifth things you didn't tell him."

Roy considered this. "True."

"Someday you really are going to have to tell him more things. Do you honestly think he wouldn't be able to do the missions if he didn't know?"

"I have reasons."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Which reminds me, if I were you, I'd be very, very careful next time Edward comes to give you a report. In fact, this incident is probably a blessing in disguise. It'll give Alphonse more time to convince him not to kill you."

"And he'll need it."

"Exactly." A pause. "Dammit, there was something I was going to tell you, except you kept interrupting me."

"Sorry," Roy said, remarkably unapologetically.

"Oh! Right. The ambassador will be meeting you at the next station."

"What!"

"It's convenient, and the only way you two can get there at the same time. Don't ask why that's important, it's all ridiculous PR things..."

"Don't tell me. We'll be sitting in the same compartment."

"Well, shouldn't you? This isn't exactly a trip to the beach, you know..."

"Yes... I know."

"...You think you'll be able to stop them?"

Roy sighed and leaned back against the wall. "Stop them from what? There are so many things. I doubt we can stop them from hating each other; at the very least, you'll have to give me more time for that..."

"Stop them from declaring war."

"...Maes, I'll consider it a victory if we can stop them from killing each other after we walk in the door. I'll consider it a victory if everybody who walks into these negotiations walks out again alive. To dissuade them from this war... it may be too much to ask."

"They really hate each other that much?"

"Yes. And I'm hoping..."

"What?"

"That it will stay between them."

"You're afraid we'll get dragged into it!"

"I'm afraid that everyone will get dragged into it. You know all those secret treaties..."

"But they wouldn't adhere to them if it really meant war..."

"Richard's crazy enough, and if he goes in..."

"...Then his allies will take it more seriously, and his enemies will flock to the other side..."

"Trying to defeat him by proxy, at first, until someone launches a direct attack... It would only take one, Maes. We've all gotten ourselves so tangled up in treaties and intrigues and secrets that one false move..."

"...Nobody's really that crazy. I'm sure you can talk some sense into them."

"Yeah," said Roy, wishing idly that he believed it.

"Besides, anyone who can handle Edward without destroying the world..."

Roy laughed. "You may have a point. So who's the other ambassador?"

"Oh! That's the other thing I was going to tell you, except you kept interrupting. It's Lord John Marbury."

"It's WHAT!"

"Lord John Marbury. You know he's qualified--"

"He thinks I'm the butler, Maes!"

"Well, if I'd only seen you while you were sucking up to the higher-ups, I would too."

"He thinks my name is Gerald! The man's a quack, he's psychotic!"

"And the world's foremost foriegn expert on--"

"I don't care how much he knows about them, it doesn't help if he's also insane!"

"He has quirks."

"He belongs in an institution."

"He's colorful."

"He's a lunatic!"

"Well, you should be used to working with lunatics by now. There's really not a thing you can do about it."

"I could throw myself off the train."

"Go ahead. I could hardly stop you from here."

"...Shut up."

"Seriously, he's not that bad."

"I can't believe they're setting him loose on the world. I mean, there are guns, alcohol, women--"

"Well, we can hide the guns and women, but working with you for an indefinite period? I think the man deserves a drink."

"Shut up."

"You really can't stand him, can you?"

"Did you hear the part about him thinking my name is Gerald?"

"Yes."

"And we've met before. More than once."

"So he's not good with names."

"Wonderful trait in an ambassador."

Hughes sighed. "Well, play nice with him! 'Cause like I said, I'm personally very fond of not being at war."

"Yeah. Me too." Roy paused. "So how's Elicia doing?"

"She's--" Another pause. "Roy, are you okay?"

"What?"

"I mean, are you sick or something? Are you really going to throw yourself off the train?"

"What!"

"Roy, I know I have my blind spots, but I know damn well nobody ever asks about my family. They just wait for me to tell them."

"I suppose I just... wanted to talk about something. Wanted to hear about them."

"You know, you should really settle down--"

"Maes--"

"Gracia has a few friends--"

"Maes!"

"Or if suddenly that's not your style, I'm sure I could find--"

Roy slammed the phone down as he heard the train begin to slow.

"Wonderful," he sighed, and stayed in the chair for another few moments, gathering his strength.

The train slowed to a stop, and Roy wearily rose from his seat, making his way toward the doors.

"Excuse me, ah, excuse me-- ah, hello! You'll be wanting my ticket--"

The dark-haired man moved with a sort of abrupt, fidgety grace, fumbling through his pockets for a ticket.

"No," Roy said, "I'm Colonel Roy Mustang."

"Ah, yes! I was supposed to meet with you. Lord John Marbury." The older man beamed and stuck out a hand.

"Yes," Roy said, shaking it gingerly, "we've met. Four or five times now."

"...Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you were the butler."

"Yes," Roy said, teeth gritted, "I know."

"We have quarters on this train, I presume?"

"Yes," Roy answered. "It's quite a long journey."

"Is it now."

"I don't know where you were assigned; you'll have to check the ticket."

"Yes, for having served as Ambassador to three countries and our Queen's Cambria liason for many years, I am--as you know-- exceedingly naive about travel. Ah, here we are." Marbury handed his ticket to the porter.

Roy closed his eyes in despair.

"You look a little pale, don't you? Or perhaps you always look like that."

"I... don't suppose I'd know."

"D'you think you're coming down with something?"

"It would be a very inconvenient time for it."

"You know, there are some excellent cold remedies down in the subcontinent... ginger root, orange juice, and a shot of whiskey... or licorice, cinnamon and a shot of whiskey... Of course, you can leave out the licorice and cinnamon and still be well on your way..."

Roy couldn't help chuckling. "I'd imagine."

"You're frightened, aren't you, Gerald?"

Roy blinked at him, startled, wondering how the hell a man who thought his name was "Gerald" could read him so clearly. "Yes," he admitted.

"Well, you should be. Their religious malevolence is of a type that hasn't been seen on the Western Continent for centuries. Discounting, of course, your little dalliances with the Ishballans."

"That's hardly 'malevolent'... 'Psychotic' I'd accept, 'perverse' or 'pointless', but not 'malevolent'..."

Marbiry smiled, seeming almost surprised. "True enough. Still, their hatred of each other would seem insurmountable to a lesser observer."

Roy raised an eyebrow, waiting quietly for a punchline.

"However, as has been acknowledged by kings and queens, and fuhrers for that matter-- I am not a lesser observer."

Roy smirked. "Is that so. Then what do you make of it?"

Marbury looked at him soberly, a very unusual adverb for him. "It will take work. And we may not succeed. But there's more than a chance. We shall prevail-- unless of course I die, in which case, uh, you're quite screwed."

Roy shook his head. "Don't think much of yourself, do you?"

"I'm working on my problem with low self-esteem. You were thinking it might be hopeless, weren't you?"

"The thought had crossed my mind," Roy admitted.

"Hmm. Thank god you sent for me."

"Should we begin comparing notes now? Before we save the world?"

"Mm, yes, probably so I'd imagine. Do we have a secure compartment somewhere?"

"Yes."

"Good, then. Lead the way, Gerald." He started fumbling through his pockets. "Oh, but if you want to save the world..."

"Mm-hmm?"

He produced a slightly battered pack of cigarettes. "I shall require a light."

Roy smirked and stretched a gloved hand behind him, calmly producing a steady lighter-flame.

"Ah, excellent!" Marbury lit the cigarette and took a first long drag. "I think we'll work marvelouslly together."

"Yes," Roy said, very slightly amazed, "maybe we will."

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