It is my current hope that I am back. I do apologize for being gone for so long, but for about four months I was in a living situation (with family) while I looked for a house to buy after my brother and at the time roommate left to join the Navy. At any rate, living there was at its least, emotionally damaging for me. It rather messed with my ability to feel relaxed enough to write. But then I finally found a house to buy, bought it, and moved in so that I could breathe again without feeling rather like Harry Potter still living with the Dursley's. It took me the better part of a whole year to get my muse back into functioning, I was writing little stories for myself here and there this past year to find that part of myself again.
I think I found it, and I'm just grateful my muses stuck with me through it, I don't know if any of you have, or will. But I am grateful to every single one of you. The little notes you've all been dropping me while I've been away have helped spur me more than you know. Thank you. I know it's not nearly enough to show my gratitude, but here's a chapter for you.
Chapter Forty-Eight
"I knew when I was moved here I was slotted for execution, but I didn't realize you would be attending the party. I would have had my straightjacket ironed."
Bradley stood before the steel bars of the tiny jail cell, wearing a stern expression of disproval as he eyed the man lounging on the filthy cot inside – looking as if he were at a spa, instead of rotting behind steel bars. "It would take more than an iron to fix the state of disrepair you're in."
A bright, mocking laugh erupted out of him, and turning his head to look at last at the broad figure blocking what little light could reach his cell, his grin widened an unsettling amount. "Tell me, what's it to be? I hope you at least had the decency to make my execution amusing. Gas chambers and firing squads are so dreary."
"Roy Mustang." Bradley began, yet the laughter that erupted out of the cell cut him off, and he began to glare at the man who was rocking back and forth on his cot in genuine amusement.
"Mustang?" The man laughed out, before letting out a weary breath as if the laughter had taken all his strength. "Roy Mustang may despise me as much as I do him, but he'd never kill me. Not for you." And sliding into a sitting position that caused his lank black hair to fall about his shoulders in disarray, he smirked pityingly. "Don't tell me you've been fooled into believing you can trust that bastard to do your dirty work?"
Bradley sneered at him, and holding one hand up, dropped down the key ring he was holding, causing the singular key to jangle enticingly. And as he saw sharp eyes fix upon it, he resumed what he'd been about to say. "If you can kill Roy Mustang before the week is out, Basque Grand will take your place among the inmates, and you can take his at Headquarters. But if you fail, I will personally ensure that the last thing you see is your impending death." And giving the barest jangle to the key ring he held, he glared into the dim light of the tiny jail cell. "Do we have an agreement, Kimblee?"
Slowly, but with a languid ease that seemed wholly out of place for a man confined to a straightjacket, Kimblee rose and slunk over to the steel bars that separated him from his Fuhrer. "Don't insult me. Grand is hardly worthy of replacing me anywhere."
"Do we have an agreement?" Bradley repeated again, voice stern, cold. His gaze fixed firmly upon the former State Alchemist that had caused him such scandal during the last war. A scandal he was willing to overlook now, if it meant Mustang would be out of the way. Basque Grand was proving to be a liability these days, and he was now under heavy pressure to make this philosopher's stone happen, forcing him to rethink many things he had thought he wouldn't.
Such as the wreck of a man that stood before him now.
Kimblee chuckled darkly, and looking away from Bradley he let out a mock-suffering sigh. "Why not just kill him yourself? A quick call to your office, a slit to the throat, and no one ever has to know that the mission you say that you sent him on was a sham."
"I am hardly in a position to explain anything to you." Bradley snapped in dwindling patience. "Now choose. I will only make this offer to you once."
Kimblee looked away from the Fuhrer with a snort of derision. "Where is he now?"
"Here in Central." Bradley informed him silkily, giving another jingle to the key ring.
"Well that's just touching!" Kimblee snickered in mockery, "you've practically gift-wrapped him! Is that truly the best you can do? This is as far as you can get to killing a man? I have to say, I'm a bit surprised at you."
He knew it was coming, he just hadn't expected the sheer blinding speed that, for as quick as he was, he failed to avoid. And Kimblee barely managed to cry out at the blinding pain of his head being slammed sideways into the stone wall of his tiny cell before the Fuhrer's hand pressed around his throat and with every second, it pressed in harder to make his vision blank once more.
"Let me make one thing clear to you," Bradley sneered in icy hatred, "being Fuhrer means I have little insects like you to make my life easier. If I gift-wrap you the opportunity to kill a man you despise and earn your freedom at the same time, you shouldn't question the reasons why. You should be on your knees in gratitude."
Kimblee grunted out into a coughing fit as he was abruptly released, and gritting his teeth as he glared at the Fuhrer, he took that step away that would put him out of reach again. Unable to rub at his abused throat, being firmly encased in his straightjacket, he tried to swallow against the uncomfortable remnants of the ghost of that hand against him. "What makes you think that if you release me, I won't just do Mustang and I both a favor and kill you?"
Bradley huffed out, unimpressed and entirely unconcerned about such a happening, and his dark gaze bore into the other man. "You are a thousand years parted from the skill it would take to kill me. Now make your choice… patience is a virtue, and I abhor virtues."
Nearly half the city away, Edward found himself occupied by something that kept his thoughts far from the danger that continued to circle closer towards Roy.
"I was thinking that we could go to the zoo next weekend." Roy called out a bit distractedly from the bathroom, most of his attention on trying to convince Hazel to give him back his comb.
Edward was sitting cross-legged on the bed feeling more than a little confused. A little less than twenty-four hours ago Roy had confessed love for him, yet overnight it was as if Roy had forgotten it completely. Nothing had changed with the way Roy was acting, the man hadn't even hinted towards what had passed between them the previous day. Which left Edward trying to puzzle out whether Roy was just trying to be solicitous of giving him space to sort out his own feelings, or if Roy had been in love with him for so long that this was normal.
"Edward?" Roy popped his head out from beyond the bathroom doorway, comb finally rescued, but Hazel climbing up the back of his shirt in clear intent to steal it back. Yet he only absently switched the hand it was held in to stave off the little furry thief, his attention focused more on the guilty expression that crossed Edward's face when the ghost realized he'd been being spoken to.
"Sorry." Edward admitted a bit bashfully, worrying a hand through his silvery hair as he met Roy's gaze. "What did you say?"
Roy considered the ghost a moment in thoughtful silence before passing the comb back to Hazel's thieving paws – little terror would have snatched it anyway – and walked back over to sit on the bed just in front of Edward. "Are you okay?" He asked, expression shadowed in concern as he searched Edward's face.
Edward opened his mouth to confirm it, but at the last moment looked away towards the floor with a troubled sigh. "I'm confused." He admitted quietly, "it's like nothing's changed."
Understanding dawned on Roy sharply, and after that initial moment of realization, he smiled softly as he reached out to pass a hand through silvery, incorporeal hair. It still did not yield to his touch, but it did do the trick of bringing Edward's gaze back to him. "And nothing will change unless you want it to." He explained firmly, but kindly. "Don't misunderstand, you're still subject to my apparently atrocious flirtations, as you call them – "
Edward gave a soft laugh at that.
" – but I'm not going to force my love on you either. So until you say otherwise, we'll carry on as we always have."
Edward bit down on his lips a moment, casting his gaze aside in thought, before giving a quick series of jerking nods and meeting Roy's gaze again. "I think I was just worried you'd start to distance yourself from me."
Roy gave him a reproachful look, a short laugh escaping him as his hand fell away from Edward. "Edward, I do consider myself to be a man of strong willpower, but what you're suggesting would be impossible for me."
"Yeah, well," Edward reached up to fiddle with his hair in a nervous twitch, "what were you saying to me before?"
Roy smirked somewhat, wondering if he should inform Edward exactly of how he felt when the ghost was flustered, but stamped down on the urge. "Want to go to the zoo sometime this weekend? You still need to see what rhinoceros are. I'd show them to you in their natural habitat, but that'd take far longer than a weekend."
"Only if you promise not to freak out when I go into the enclosures." Edward began to grin.
"I'll make you that promise if you promise you won't try and smuggle something out somehow in order to set it on the Brigadier General." Roy's tone and expression were wholly deadpan.
Edward took one look at Roy's face and bit back a laugh. "I could only share the honor of terrorizing him with you, don't worry."
"Promise me." Roy pointed a suspicious finger at him.
Edward rolled his eyes with a bit of a smile, giving an amused shake of his head before holding both hands up in surrender. "All right, all right. I promise."
"Good." Roy breathed in relief, getting up from the bed. He'd not wanted to have escaped tigers suddenly roaming all over Central come the weekend. "I'll go finish getting ready and then we should leave."
Edward watched Roy go back into the bathroom, a faint smile on his lips. Yes, this was their normal. Even with love thrown into the mix, the afterlife he'd come to be grateful of was still there. It just had the promise to be more… if he wanted it to be. If he were to realize that he shared Roy's feelings.
He looked down at the bed with a quiet huff of amazed laughter, shaking his head slightly.
Never, in all his years of life and death, had he even considered that someone would fall in love with him. It just hadn't been a fantasy worth courting. That it would be Roy…
He didn't know if he loved Roy in return, if he ever would.
Yet there was no denying the way Roy made him feel as if he might, even in death, still have a beating heart. Or the way that every time Roy made to touch him, he wished the man could. Or that somewhere along the way, he'd become devoted to protecting Roy's life, even at risk of the crippling pain the Fuhrer could instill upon him.
But was that love?
Was what Roy made him feel, in moments of joy, of sadness, of anger and panic… was it love?
At that exact moment Hazel deposited Roy's stolen comb through his knee.
"Are you making me an accomplice in your thievery?" Edward asked in mild amusement as he was pulled from his thoughts. Picking the comb up he turned his head to watch as Hazel bounded up onto the pillows and began to groom himself looking wholly smug.
"I'll throw you both in jail later." Roy consoled Edward as he rejoined the ghost. "But for now we should get going."
Edward glanced up at the man, and offered the comb back out to him. There was little chance he'd held onto it long enough to turn it incorporeal as well. "How many people are in the jails because of you?" He found himself wondering.
Roy, having repossessed his comb, finished with his hair quickly before tossing the comb at Hazel in minor revenge. "I don't leave many alive. Fire has a tendency to not have mercy."
"Neither will Riza Hawkeye, I wager," Edward lamented with a sigh as he rose from the bed, "if you show up late. Let's go."
Riza Hawkeye was always sufficient threat to get Roy to leave for work, and within minutes they had left the house and were on their way to Headquarters. Yet despite the ever present threat of a displeased Hawkeye looming over Roy's head, he led Edward on a rather circuitous route, opening more of Central to Edward's eyes.
And Roy vowed that one day, it wouldn't be just all the streets of Central that Edward would have opened to him, it would be all of Amestris.
Yet that was a lifetime project, and they ended up at Headquarters far too soon for either of their liking.
As it turned out, however, not even being on time to work was enough to placate the veritable wildfire that was Riza Hawkeye. For as soon as she arrived, and spotted Roy just settling down at his desk, she marched straight past Havoc, who had ineffectually attempted to stop her, and into her commanding officer's office.
The door slammed shut behind her.
"Lieutenant." Roy greeted with a small measure of unease as he suddenly recalled why he was facing an angry blonde with a firearm.
Riza came to an abrupt stop before the desk, her gaze unyielding as she glared at Roy. "Any other day, any other moment in our lives, and I'd have accepted that running off is just what you do, but this is not that time!"
Roy considered her in silence a moment, thinking over her words. It did not take him long to understand their meaning, and his expression softened as he looked at her.
"Don't you even try to talk me down from this, sir!" Riza cut in quickly upon seeing that look.
"I won't." Roy assured her gently, yet he wasn't finished. "You had every right to be worried, you have every right to be angry at me now. But was Central not in the safest hands for my doing that?"
Edward had floated over to perch on the edge of Roy's desk, yet in that moment it was not just Riza who looked at him in surprise. A smile slowly slipped onto his face as he realized what Roy had done, and he shook his head with a warm fondness. "If only you could always be three steps ahead in our chess games." He chided fondly, smiling over at Roy. "You might actually win more of them."
Roy made a mental note to glare at Edward for that one later.
"We were looking everywhere for you." Riza breathed out before giving a subtle groan and glaring at her Colonel, all the more fiercely. "Just what the fuck is going on that you had to trick Maes and I into canvassing the city daily?"
Roy grinned despite the way it made Riza eye him, as if wondering if she could get away with grazing him with a bullet. "Thank you, for worrying about me."
Riza knew a distraction when she heard one, yet there was something more pressing about it, and her expression turning tired as she looked at Roy. "Sir, you're leading us all down a path you're blinding us from seeing. So when you do things like run off…"
Roy let out a slow breath when she didn't continue, and on impulse he stood and walked around the desk to take her gently, but firmly, by the arms. "Were I scheming anything but what I am, I would tell you. You know this." And he didn't wait for her scowl of confirmation, "I won't apologize for keeping you in the dark, just try and trust that I have my reasons. Not the least of which is keeping you alive."
"Colonel – "
"Keep trusting your instincts, Riza." Roy cut her off gently. "I may yet stay alive if you do."
Riza bristled with renewed energy, "and how is that supposed to make me feel any better about any of this?!"
"Because I know you," Roy informed her frankly, releasing his hold on her arms now, "and I know that right now, you're operating at two-hundred percent just because you're worried about me and what I've gotten myself into. And I need you to be that way."
Riza looked at him a long moment before her posture showed her acquiescence, even if it was still somewhat unwilling. "Tell your mother that if you die, I claim no responsibility."
"I will." Roy agreed, though he intended to do no such thing. His mother already knew what he was attempting to do, and he had a feeling that should he die, his mother wouldn't waste time blaming anyone. Instead she'd likely be more invested in trying to locate Edward.
Riza nodded shortly before straightening her posture with a slight huff. "Do your paperwork, sir."
Edward watched silently with Roy as Riza left the office then, not entirely placated, but not about to shoot Roy, either. He then watched as Roy walked to the office door to shut it closed behind her, and as Roy turned back around he shook his head with a slight smile.
"I'm glad they worry," Roy sighed as he walked back over, "I'd not have them on my team if they didn't. But sometimes I feel like they should have already adjusted to my doing everything by my own plans."
"Even if you told them, they'd still worry." Edward told him quietly, thinking back to his own fears for Roy's safety. "If I think about how I'd feel if I were still prisoner to this office, and I knew what you were doing, and still I was unable to protect you?" He shook his head, faintly troubled. "I'd feel sick inside."
"That's another good reason for me not to have told them." Roy came to sit on the edge of the desk as well, next to Edward.
Edward looked over at him then, "you'd best be right about how you think this will play out for them."
Roy nodded, but didn't give any confirmation as he pushed away from the desk and went around to sit behind it, pulling a report towards him. With several days of backlog piled up on his desk, he knew he needed to get started on it now if he was still going to have time to play chess with Edward later.
He needed to get the ghostly brat back for that comment earlier.
Edward watched him in silence for a few minutes before grabbing a report himself and flipping it open. It took him only a few minutes of reading it to understand what was required, and grabbing a pen he began to correct what needed correcting before passing it over to Roy for a signature, distantly amused at the fact that Roy was accepting and signing off on his help without checking what he'd done.
"For all you know, you've been signing orders to require all State Alchemists to cross-dress." Edward pointed out to him.
Roy chuckled even as he continued reading his current report. "Well, since I've been unable to institute a miniskirt policy for the women, I don't think I'd suffer too much."
Edward eyed him sidelong, "wanting to see all the ladies in miniskirts, are we?"
"I'd not say no to seeing you in a miniskirt." Roy teased without hesitation.
Edward might have flushed, were he able, but as things stood he was forced to swat Roy with the report he was holding. "Never thought I'd say this, but I'm glad I didn't die while playing dress up in my mother's clothing."
Roy grinned widely at the thought, turning a solicitous look on Edward. "Tell me more."
He was swatted again for his efforts.
Between the two of them the stack of reports began to quickly dwindle from the inbox. Edward only pausing in his assistance whenever Riza brought in something else, but as soon as she was gone, he was back to helping. He wasn't even entirely sure why he was, just that it felt like the right thing for him to be doing right now. Besides, the reason it was this backed up was because of him.
Little did either of them know, but deep in the military district of the city, Maes Hughes was beginning to truly realize part of the picture of what was going on.
And he didn't like it one bit.
It was easy enough to press himself further into the shadows around the furthest wall, a wall that had so helpfully concealed him from being noticed by absolutely no one. The whole time he had been doing this stake out for Roy, he'd never once laid eyes on anyone going in or out of those gates. Not the Brigadier General, not any of the General's lackeys, not even anyone's lackey.
And who happens to be the one person to break the unfortunate chain?
Fuhrer Bradley.
Maes barely kept from cursing as he stayed pressed against the wall, his body thrumming with nerves as he forced himself to remain. To watch. Knowing that he needed to report everything he could about this to Roy, right before he gave him a well-deserved punch for not giving him a warning that the Fuhrer was apparently actively involved in this, and not just an enabler as he'd led himself to believe.
Fuhrer Bradley finished locking the padlock that kept the gates to the laboratory visually secure. The true guardians of the facility patrolled just out of sight of the gates. With no further matters to concern him here he turned and walked to the edge of the sidewalk, whereupon a sleek black military issue sedan pulled around the corner to meet him.
Entering the vehicle he adjusted the saber strapped to him habitually, and one hand remained resting on the hilt as the sedan pulled away from the curb and onto the empty street.
"To Headquarters then, sir?"
Bradley didn't look in the direction of his driver, his gaze fixated more on what was outside of the vehicle he rode in. One thing in particular.
His human eye couldn't see it, but perhaps all the more fortune that he wasn't exactly human.
"Not just yet." He replied with a measuring thoughtfulness to his tone as he continued to gaze out the window. "Turn left at the next corner. Do not signal your intent."
Maes felt that swearing at this particular moment would be well within reason. Yet there was no time to even consider the proper phrase one should use when it became abruptly apparent that now would be a good time to run.
But running was off the table. There was no outrunning this, running would only make it significantly worse.
Either way, he started walking in the direction of Headquarters with as relaxed a stride as he could fake. There was a chance he still might make it out of this, that this wasn't what he thought. That if it was, there might be a way out of it.
Yet there was no denying the way he could feel the car come up behind him. That cold feeling of slippery dread snaking up his spine and settling around his neck like a noose. The way every part of his body seemed to sharply attune to the decreasing proximity between them. Or the way his heart seemed to cease beating, as if trying to conceal its sound from a highly-evolved predator, as the sedan pulled up next to him along the curb.
And then it was gaining on him again, allowing him just a purely single moment of hopeful relief before it glided to a halt just ahead of him.
Maes knew what the rear door being opened out by a familiar uniform sleeve meant, he didn't need to be told to get in, but it still took him a moment of feeling as if dread had rooted him to the sidewalk before he was able to move, and knowing that not only his life rode on what was about to happen, he drew on every bit of acting talent he had as he made to obey the unspoken signal.
He was about to find out if he was truly as talented at deception as he believed himself to be.
"Close the door, Major." Bradley instructed with a disarmingly pleasant smile as the man sat inside the car.
Maes did as instructed, the snap of the car door closing sounding unnervingly final in this moment. Yet as he settled himself on the seat as the vehicle began moving once more, he schooled his features towards curiosity and confusion, instead of the cold dread that he felt instead. Looking over at the Fuhrer at last he was absently pleased he managed a salute without his hand shaking, and instead of putting him at ease, the kind smile the Fuhrer was giving him only made him warier.
Once again embracing that act of curious confusion, Maes prayed for a steady voice. "Is there something I can do for you, Fuhrer?"
Bradley considered this man carefully from behind the mask of warmth he displayed. Major Maes Hughes… he knew of the man's skills as an investigator. It was one of the reasons he had risen so quickly to the ranks, and been so sought after in the investigations department. Yet despite those skills, despite the demand for them, it had been made clear through past history that this man's loyalties lay with Roy Mustang.
It was always beneficial to know your enemies, and the friends of your enemies.
To find this investigator lap dog of Mustang's so far from where he knew the man lived, so far from Headquarters, and so close to the laboratory… it seemed he was not mistaken in the least in his decision that Roy Mustang needed to be dealt with immediately.
"Nothing at all." Bradley at last replied to the question, the gaze of both his eyes fixed unwaveringly on the Major. "I merely thought to offer you a lift to Headquarters. I've never seen you walking around here before, I thought you might have become lost." And a silken concern colored his tone as he continued, "it would be a shame for an experienced investigator like yourself to go missing."
Maes met the gaze levelly, his façade wholly in play now, concealing his reaction to the veiled threats and accusations. And in a distant corner of his mind, he found some measure of hysterical amusement that he was fencing words with the Fuhrer. Yet now that he was in the act, he was bolstered by artificial courage, and it allowed him to slip into an almost vulnerable demeanor as he nodded. "I had a fight with my wife last night, and we've never fought before!" He exclaimed, his horror at the thought of fighting with his beautiful wife not entirely faked. "So I ended up just leaving and walking around to cool my head. I didn't even realize where I was walking."
Fuhrer Bradley gave a conceding nod at the explanation, "women have an innate ability to drive even the most disciplined man to the end of his patience." And he offered a pacifying smile, "I am sure that things will be made right between you both later. From what I can recall of my subordinates complaining, you love your family dearly."
"Yes, sir." Maes agreed simply. "In any case, thank you for the lift. I am not sure I would have made it to Headquarters at all today if left to my own devices."
"No," Bradley agreed as he continued watching the man, "I expect you'd have not."
Maes felt it was his turn, and encasing himself in that artificial courage he had created for himself, he did not hold back. "What brings you out this way, Fuhrer? I thought you lived further east, isn't this a bit out of your way?"
"Matters of state." Bradley replied simply enough, "as a former member of the investigations team, I am sure you can appreciate the results of being hands on with situations. There becomes a significantly smaller chance of something unexpected occurring."
"Whatever the situation that brought you out here, I am sure that it will resolve itself in the appropriate manner. With your direct influence, how could it not?" Maes offered out with just a touch of pride to his voice.
"Indeed." Bradley determined, before offering a slight smile. "Your confidence in me is welcomed. However I have not remained Fuhrer as long as I have by expecting that everything will always stay according to plan. Always stay a step ahead of your target or goal, is that not correct, Major?"
"At least three steps, Fuhrer." Maes countered with an easy smile. "Minimum."
Fuhrer Bradley considered him in silence a moment, his face carefully devoid of any hints towards his thoughts or emotions, before he slowly began to smile. Followed shortly by a brief huff of laughter which ended with him eyeing Major Hughes with a measure of respect that wasn't wholly faked. "As I would expect from the former shining star of our Investigations Department. Do tell me, what is it that Colonel Mustang has on you that keeps you at his heel?"
"He offered me the most money." Maes replied without pause, a bit of a smug smirk gracing his lips. "His budget is disgustingly large, of which I suppose I have you to thank."
"He earned it." Bradley admitted, and knew it was entirely the truth. If not for Colonel Mustang becoming such a heroic figure during the war, he would have encountered nothing but a damaging public backlash due to the war crimes of other State Alchemists.
But the Colonel's usefulness to him as a public figurehead had closed. He could no longer afford to keep a wild card like Colonel Mustang around, not with the increased pressure now being placed on him to complete his mission. That singular human held a great deal of sway over the public, good and bad, and he had far greater skill as an alchemist than he'd encountered before. Colonel Roy Mustang was a threat to his task, so like all great men, the Colonel too must fall.
"You picked me up in the research district, where most of the laboratories are," Maes began just a bit recklessly, but he wasn't done with his veiled interrogation just yet, "what matters of state are happening there that need your direct input?"
Fuhrer Bradley did not answer at first, instead he contemplated his guest a long moment, before giving another of his pleasant smiles. "I'm afraid that knowledge is beyond your current classification, Major. But I will tell you this, in concern for a talented member of my military," and his expression hardened, "you are not an alchemist. Your only weapon is your mind. If you must fight with your wife again, do not wander into an area where curiosity might lead you astray. The research laboratories of the State Alchemists are exceedingly dangerous."
"I've been around Colonel Mustang's temper for years, Fuhrer," Maes countered carefully, still not having taken his eyes off the man. "I am still whole despite his efforts."
Bradley's expression was almost wholly benevolent now, some amusement etched there in his face. "I daresay he wasn't trying to the best of his abilities, then. I only warn you as a kindness." And then his smile returned, one shadowed in concern. "I would hate to see your lovely wife and daughter brought to tears, should something happen to you."
"I would hate that too." Maes agreed slowly, his hesitance at the man's words did not need to be fabricated as part of his acting. And he barely kept from startling as the car came to an unexpected halt.
"We're here." Fuhrer Bradley announced with a touch of disappointment to his voice, he had wished that his driver had thought to go slower, but there was no way he could have communicated that without alerting the Major to it.
Maes darted a quick look out the window to see it was the truth, they had arrived at Headquarters, and he didn't believe he'd ever been so glad to see that massive structure in his life.
"Remember what I said, Major Hughes." Bradley told him with his smile still in place, and as the man looked back around at him sharply, he added, "I'd hate for anything at all to happen to your wife and daughter, should something unfortunate happen to you."
"Thank you for the lift, Fuhrer." Maes replied instead, hand already reaching to push open the door so he could escape the vehicle. "And I will always remember your concern for my family."
"Make no mention of it." Bradley waved off the matter nonchalantly, still smiling disarmingly. "I am glad we had this chat."
"As am I." Maes agreed, then got out of the vehicle, giving the Fuhrer a parting salute he closed the door again and then turned and began making his way as calmly as possible into Headquarters. He could hear the Fuhrer getting out of the car as well at this precise moment, and it took every fiber of his remaining bravado to keep his shoulder's squared in a confident nonchalance.
Even when he had entered Headquarters and joined the milling masses of military members he did not let his façade drop. It would be too dangerous among all these people. Many of whom he knew were spies for the Fuhrer. He didn't need anyone reporting back that he'd fled through the building like a madman.
He only let the façade fall the moment he entered the office complex of the rest of Roy's team, and he waved off the immediate look of concern Havoc gave him when the man looked up at his sudden entrance. He instead motioned at Roy's closed office door with a slightly shaking hand.
"Is he in there with anyone?"
Havoc was wondering if he should offer the man a cigarette to try and calm the clear nerves that Maes was operating under, when Riza stood up from her desk while shaking her head.
"Good. Someone do me a favor and call Armstrong, tell him I need to meet with him at lunch. It's urgent." Maes didn't waste another moment in striding over to the door, flinging it open without knocking first, and slamming it closed behind him.
Roy did not startle at the sudden, loud entrance, but he had just narrowly avoided setting his best friend on fire. Taking a good look at the expression on Maes's face, he doubted an accidental torching would have gone over well with the man.
Edward was fairly sure he'd set the report he'd been working on for Roy down in time, yet one look at Maes's face told him that the man hadn't been paying attention to the reports upon his entrance. Concern instantly flooded him as he slipped off the desk that Maes had marched up to, and standing at the man's side, he glanced over to Roy, "something's wrong."
As it turned out, Roy didn't need to ask to find out just what was wrong.
Maes wasted no time in getting to the point. In situations like these, there was little time to be wasted. "Good thing you're the Flame Alchemist, Roy, because I get the feeling things are about to heat up for you."
Roy frowned in concern, sitting back in his chair as he considered the harried state of the man. He would do no one any good in leaping about to conclusions or action without understanding what was going on. "What's happened?"
"All this time I've been playing spy, and no one has gone near that damn place." Maes began with passion borne of stress, "well all that came to an end today. The fucking Fuhrer walked out the gates like he owned the place."
"He does technically own the place." Roy pointed out unhelpfully, but with a smirk all the same.
Edward was not the only one to glare at Roy for that statement, but he did feel some pride in that it was his glare that Roy shrunk from.
"Then all of a sudden his car pulls up and guess which direction they decide to head?"
"Straight for you, I'd wager." Roy offered out.
Maes wasn't particularly caring to listen to his best friend at the moment, and continued plowing on ahead. "Right for where I was. And those shadows aren't enough to conceal me from a close distance, so I was forced to start heading here. Try and avoid suspicion, I mean, it is a military district, I didn't look out of place. Wouldn't have, if you weren't such a fucking peacock!"
"I beg your pardon?" Roy blinked at him owlishly.
Edward, for his part, had fallen into a peal of glorious laughter at the comparison. Just yesterday he'd compared the man to a rooster, and the more he thought about it, the more Roy did resemble flashy male birds.
Roy really was trying not to twitch at Edward's clear amusement, promising to get the apparition back for it as soon as he had a moment to do so.
"He knew who I was because of you, Roy!" Maes accused vehemently, "shining star of the investigations department my ass, he'd have no interest in me if it weren't for you always strutting around with your chest puffed out herding your flock wherever you see fit because you're the Flame Alchemist! And I wouldn't have near had heart failure!"
Roy leaned back in his chair with a sigh, quirking an eyebrow at his friend. "Would you rather go back to the investigations department?" And when he received a glare, he rolled his eyes. "Well it's not like he wouldn't recognize any of the others, you're the person most qualified to do this and you know it. You agreed to it. You're the one trained to do investigations, not them."
"Then what's this other informant of yours doing, that you couldn't put him to watching the laboratory? Since none of us know him, I sincerely doubt the Fuhrer or Brigadier General would." Maes pressed, the stress of the morning wearing at his patience regarding the subject.
Roy sighed internally at the query, yet did not answer straight away.
Edward had resumed sitting on the desk by this point, and adjusting his legs to fold underneath him he gave Maes a regretful look. "Would that I could, but Roy's not taken me there yet. I think he still worries what I'd do if I could gain access to the place before he's ready."
Roy would admit, that had been his initial concern at first, but now it was more the desire to keep Edward away from potential danger. The knowledge that nothing in the laboratory could hurt him was still not enough to ease his mind. Or his heart. Love was irrational that way. "That's not something I can explain right now. And while the Fuhrer has already hurt him enough, and I'm loathe for it to happen again, it's not the reason I'm not having him watch the laboratory. Right now he is of more help to me where he is, just as he is."
Maes frowned slowly at the words, his head tilting somewhat in concern as his focus shifted. "The Fuhrer hurt him?"
"I'm fine." Edward whispered to them, and really, he was. He knew he'd experience that debilitating pain again if it would mean saving Roy. "It's not like I can die again, no matter how much pain I experience."
Roy had to force himself not to look at Edward in that moment, not to speak to him, instead focusing his attention actively on Maes. "The Fuhrer never saw who he attacked, but despite that, his assistance is needed in other aspects of this."
Maes sighed and ran a haggard hand back through his hair, causing much of it to fall askew. "Fine, keep your secrets about him while you still can. But one day I'm going to find out who he is. Just not today." And he looked at Roy again with determination in his gaze. "But you may want to tell him that things are about to get dangerous. The Fuhrer is a fool if he doesn't get suspicious over my being in that area, I doubt my excuse fooled him, despite how he acted. He'll know you're up to something now."
Roy nodded at the warning, "I've always been prepared for him wanting to kill me. But he won't succeed, I have too much advance warning regarding him."
"I hope that's the truth, Roy." Maes told him with raw honesty, before giving a regretful shake of his head. "In any case, we need to get my own family out of the city until your scheme has come to a close. I'm not an idiot, I know he was threatening them. I'm fine with him threatening me, but if anything were to happen to my girls because of me…"
Roy nodded immediately at the problem, "can you alter train manifests?"
Maes snorted at the ludicrous implication that he couldn't. "I almost want to end our friendship based on that question."
"Shut up." Roy demanded through a scowl as Maes smirked at him. "You're taking sending them away rather well."
"Believe me, I'm not." Maes admitted, suddenly subdued as he kept Roy's gaze. "But like you with your other informant, I'm loathe for the Fuhrer to hurt them. If I have to do this to keep them safe, I need to do it. And I need to do this, Roy. Wars, no matter how small, are no place to keep a family near."
Roy could understand that sentiment all too well, could understand Maes's desire to see those he loved remain safe and free of the grip of those who might harm them before all was said and done. And while he knew it had to be hurting Maes to do this, the man's determination to see them safe was overriding everything else. "Then send them to my mother, as soon as you're able. I'll let her know they're on their way. She'll keep them safe."
Maes's eyes widened in surprise at this being suggested as some sort of safe house. "Not like I think anyone would follow after them there… I don't think I'm that high on the concern list for the Fuhrer or Brigadier General, but are you sure?"
"She's shot her fair share of spies." Roy reminded his best friend frankly, "she can handle herself, and keep everyone safe until it's safe for them to return. Just alter those train manifests to throw off anyone they might send who's a bit more stupid than the rest. She doesn't like killing the weak ones."
Maes nodded after a moment, and shot his friend a grateful smile. But it was a distracted one. "Thank you. I'll go give Gracia a phone call, let her know what's happening. And then I think I need to work on spreading that rumor that we had a fight this morning, it was the excuse I gave the Fuhrer. It might help create a story that she left me in a fit of spite."
Roy nodded in agreement, and as his best friend turned to leave, he called after him softly. "I don't plan for this to go on much longer, you'll see them again soon. I promise."
Maes looked back, but he couldn't find the words in him to answer, instead nodding mutely, and just a bit sadly, before letting himself out of the office to begin his task. Wondering with some trepidation what things would be like when Roy went after the Fuhrer, once the Brigadier General was out of the way.
Left alone in the office once again, Roy rested forward on the desk with his elbows as he let out a heavy breath.
Edward looked down at his bowed head with a sympathetic smile, reaching out to lay his hand through Roy's black hair. "Don't think to try to send me with the girls. I'm not about to leave you."
"I wouldn't be able to force you onto that train." Roy pointed out, looking over at the ghost. "Besides, I'll never be able to get you to fall in love with me if I send you away."
Edward smiled at the reasoning, giving just the faintest laugh before letting his hand fall from Roy's hair. "And how were you planning to go about making me fall for you?" He asked with fondness in his voice, his smile widening a fraction.
"Well I'm certainly not about to send you to see my mother!" Roy told him firmly, "she knows I love you, so she'd just spend the entire time telling you embarrassing stories about me. I'd never have a hope of you loving me afterwards."
Edward gave a soft huff of a laugh, his smile never lessening as he watched Roy. If he were being honest with himself, he imagined such stories would only be endearing to him, but he didn't tell Roy that. "Will Daphne be able to keep them safe?"
"You saw the size of her shotgun." Roy pointed out, and as Edward's expression turned into a form of amused agreement, he smiled. "If anything, Gracia will come back with a handgun, knowing my mother's influence. Maes should be more worried about her returning, than her staying."
"Have you not put that man through enough because of his unfortunate luck of being your best friend?" Edward asked him frankly, raising an eyebrow.
And as Roy began to protest the implications there, he rolled his eyes and grabbed up the file he'd been working on before Maes's abrupt arrival. With that, he began to actively ignore the man as he went back to his task. Idly reflecting on how superficial and meaningless all this paperwork seemed, when all of the real activity of the military was conducted in the shadows, as lives were wagered with the success or failure of each cloak and dagger operation.