Hey guys :D I'm sorry about the delay on this update, but my computer broke and I still haven't replaced it. I've been looking, but I'm shit at computers, making choices and having a decent budget, so it'll most likely take a while. Right now I'm borrowing a friend's computer, but I'm not sure if I'll be able to do it again.

On the bad side, this means I'm definitely not posting the whole story by the end of the event's deadline (November 19th). On the bright side, I'll finally have a decent computer. Mine was nine years old and had… issues. I should've started saving to replace it years ago, I knew this was a matter of time. But, as stated above, good choices aren't my strong suit.

For updates on the computer ordeal (and handwriting of updates, because my brain is still working) you can keep an eye on my tumblr: maisstories dot tumblr dot com (I never thought I'd say so, but I'm actually glad the app exists. Don't you ever say never, I guess).

Anyway, ramblings aside, here is the fifth chapter :D I hope you enjoy it! And thanks a lot to everybody you reviewed, I love you guys :D

Chapter 5

Hawkeye had dragged Ed out of the house late last night, insisting that naps in the library for days on end didn't count as proper rest, which was how he now found himself eating breakfast with the Armstrongs in an outdoor patio of their estate, his arm sore from Winry's wrench. Winry was sitting next to him and picking at a meal the Armstrongs' cooks had carefully put together following the indications she had received from her doctor.

The table was mostly in a silence broken only by the sound of cutlery. Phillip Armstrong had asked Ed how the research was going, but after Ed had explained there were still three symbols he hadn't identified in the array nobody else seemed to know what to say. It was obvious they were all worried, understandably so, but they were keeping themselves together. Ed had a feeling none of the sisters present were quite as cold as Olivier Armstrong, as he could see obvious traces of worry on their faces. As for Alex Armstrong, he had joined Ed at the library as often as his own investigation allowed him, and Ed knew well the signs of someone who was channelling their worry through research.

A gasp drew Ed's attention away from his food and he raised his head. Catherine, the youngest Armstrong, was pointing at something deeper down the large grounds, and Ed turned in that direction. It was hard to distinguish in the bright light of the morning, but he was pretty sure he saw the tail end of a large transmutation somewhere behind a bunch of trees.

Everybody scrambled up from their chairs and hurried over. Ed wasn't sure what to expect, but someone would have to be completely out of it to pull anything at the Armstrongs' place, which left only one logical option. Still, he wasn't sure how sceptical he should be about it.

Not at all, as it turned out.

Mustang and Olivier Armstrong walked out of the trees as the group approached, both of them dressed in civilian clothes, carrying a backpack each, and Armstrong had two large bags with her as well. Two large bags full of books.

Unsurprisingly, it was Alex who broke the silence. Somehow forgetting his sister's temper, he tried to hug her and found himself flat on his back on the ground.

That stopped the rest of the family, who had also taken steps forward.

"Olivier!" Philip Armstrong exclaimed in a scolding voice (Ed held back an amused snort at the idea of anyone scolding Olivier Armstrong, even her parents).

She rolled her eyes.

"He should know better."

"That's not how you treat your brother after we've been so worried!"

Cue an eye roll from her there.

"That's not up to you."

Ed ignored the bickering that followed and focused on Mustang who, despite his obvious amusement, looked exhausted. About as exhausted as Ed had seen himself in the mirror earlier this morning.

"Took you long enough," Ed said, deliberately rolling his eyes.

"Less than you, it seems," Mustang threw back with a tired version of his trademark smirk.

"You had advantage. Bet it would've taken me a day, at most, to get back with that asshole's notes," Ed said. Winry hit his arm —with her fist, thankfully— and shook her head.

"Don't start with the bickering," Armstrong —Olivier, and it was odd to have to think about these guys by their first names— snapped at them. "We have to go talk to Grumman, and I'm not doing it in civvies."

"You're already leaving, sister?" Alex asked, somehow managing to sound surprised despite who he was talking to. He was back on his feet.

"And so are you. Go get changed," she ordered him before she started walking again. "Move it, Mustang, we don't have all day."

Mustang shook his head, fondly, but followed her after addressing Ed one last time.

"You should come too, Fullmetal; I think you'll find this interesting."

Huh.

"Weren't you a little too cold down there?" Roy asked once they were safely inside Olivier's room. "Your family has good reason to be worried."

Olivier snorted.

"If I let them start, we wouldn't leave until tomorrow. I'd rather get this out of the way as quickly as possible."

Well, Roy couldn't disagree with that. The sooner they reported to Grumman, the sooner he could pass out on Olivier's bed for a day or two.

He spotted his suitcase propped against one wall —he no doubt had Captain Hawkeye to thank for bringing it back from Grumman's office— and walked over to it. It was empty.

Roy yawned as he walked to the large dressing room. The place was mostly empty as well, given that Olivier didn't spend much time at Central, and at some point an area of it had become Roy's. He found his clothes, including a few outfits that he had left in the house over the years, hanging there, and reached for one of his uniforms.

Olivier held back an eye roll at the owlish looks she and Roy were receiving. Even Hawkeye looked taken off guard and incredulous.

"I get the transport thing," Elric started after a too long pause, "I'd figured the array was about that. But... magic? If it was Mustang alone I'd think this was some stupid joke."

"Do I look like I'm joking to you, pipsqueak?" Olivier asked.

Elric's left eye twitched at the comment. Olivier wasn't up for a rant or, worse yet, for a bickering match between Roy and Elric, so she pulled out her wand and sent half the trinkets on Grumman's desk flying at Elric's head. Elric dodged them, of course, but it got the point across. Elric was left staring down at the trinkets now on the floor, and so was Alex.

Alchemists.

"...Fascinating," Grumman muttered, his eyes glinting sharply with the intellect he usually hid behind that façade of his. "I believe this needs some consideration. Might I have a look at those books you brought?"

Olivier gestured to the large suitcase in which they had brought them. She had read about a third of the books herself and browsed a few more, and she knew Grumman would see just as much potential as she did in their contents.

"Suit yourself. If that's all, I'd like to contact Briggs. And I guess Mustang will have to check on East. If Hawkeye is here the place might not exist anymore."

Hawkeye dipped her head in thanks for the implied compliment and Grumman laughed.

"Don't worry, Lieutenant General. Eastern Command is in very capable hands," Grumman said with amusement, his mask smoothly sliding back into place. "Lieutenant Colonel Miles agreed to head up from Ishval to overlook things while we solved this issue."

"You saddled Miles with Mustang's work?" Olivier asked, putting on an offended look even though she found it somewhat amusing. "You'd better give him a promotion for that."

"I feel attacked, Lieutenant General," Roy said, not bothering to hide his own amusement.

"I don't even want to know how much paperwork Miles ran into in your office."

The communications officers scattered from the room the moment Roy and Olivier, still arguing over Roy's work ethics, entered the room. Their surprised looks told Roy that the news of his and Olivier's disappearance hadn't stayed under wraps, at least not here at Central Command, but the soldiers were smart enough to leave without a word.

Roy and Olivier settled on different work stations to call their respective bases.

Roy did need to know how things were going at Eastern Command, and he owed Miles for leaving Ishval, even if things there had been going far more smoothly as of late.

Besides, Roy was reasonably certain that Scar could take care of most issues for a few weeks, hopefully without losing his temper with any soldiers.

Miles reached the phone on Brigadier General Mustang's desk on the fourth ring.

"Yes?" he said, expecting one of the people in communications to tell him where the call was coming from.

"Lieutenant Colonel Miles? It's good to hear from you," Brigadier General Mustang's voice came through instead.

Miles blinked, taken aback for just a moment before realising that, of course, no one would keep the general on hold.

His next thought was that this was Brigadier General Mustang on the other end of the line.

"Likewise, Sir," he replied, settling on Mustang's chair. This conversation was likely to take a while. "Should I assume the issue that kept you away is taken care of?" Miles phrased his words carefully, because nobody in Eastern Command was supposed to know that generals Armstrong and Mustang had gone missing on the anniversary of the Promised Day. The only reason Miles knew why his presence at Eastern Command had been requested so suddenly was through a young lady who was a friend of the Fuhrer's and who had been waiting for him at East City's train station.

"Mostly. I believe the Fuhrer wants to go over some details before he gives us new orders," Brigadier General Mustang replied.

Us. Good, that meant Lieutenant General Armstrong was fine as well. Not that Miles had doubted her, but still.

And speaking of her, Miles could hear her voice in the background. He couldn't discern what she was saying, but it was clear she was addressing Mustang. A moment later Mustang let out an exaggerated sigh.

"Also, Lieutenant General Armstrong would like to ensure I'm not overworking you as soon as she's done barking at some poor Briggs officer— Ow. That's my ear. So, in the meantime, why don't you update me on the situation in the East?"

Ed had camped out in Grumman's office.

He hadn't even bothered to ask for permission, he had simply grabbed a random book and settled on the couch. The snacks had popped up at some point, courtesy of Hawkeye and her practise dealing with people who focused too much on research —she hadn't been kidding when she'd told Winry she knew what she was doing: she'd even made sure none of the drinks had milk.

The books Mustang and Armstrong had brought with them were... well, the scientific ones were fascinating (even if Ed never wanted to see some of the technology described in them recreated) but the magic ones were pure nonsense. Nonsense that somehow worked.

Ed glanced at the trinkets now back on Grumman's desk to remind himself of it.

Olivier steeled herself as they walked up to the house. She had postponed the reunion moment with her family for as long as she could. Alex had no doubt told them that she would be back any time now, and they would be waiting. Along with overblown shows of their concern, tears, too loud words and attempts at hugging her.

It was at times like these that she regretted allowing them back into the house now that she was the head of the family.

"Go straight to bed once we get in," she told Roy.

Roy glanced sideways at her.

"Are you sure?" he asked. His jaw tensed, indicating he was suppressing a yawn. That had been happening with increasing frequency since they had left Grumman's office.

"I can deal with them on my own. You, however, might pass out and make them fuss even more." Because the Armstrong family had all but adopted Roy. As Olivier's father liked to remind everybody far too often, they had long since given up on Olivier ever settling down with anyone by the time they had learnt (in quite an unfortunate way that Olivier didn't like to remember) about her relationship with Roy. They had been ridiculously overjoyed.

Roy didn't smile, but he gave Olivier a grateful look.

"I'll make it up to you."

"You'd better."

Neither Roy nor Olivier were surprised when, the following day, Grumman asked them to remain in Central while the material they had brought was analysed. In fact, they were expected to assist with said analysis, alongside Fuhrer Grumman himself, Edward (who insisted that he wasn't helping the army, he was just curious) and Captain Hawkeye. It was an extremely odd team, but Grumman wanted to keep the information Roy and Olivier had brought a secret even from the entirety of the brass until he had a better idea about how to proceed.

Before they could start, however, there was something that both Roy and Olivier wanted to do, and that was why they were following Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong down to one of the most isolated cells in Central Command. There was no need for an interrogation room.

"I must ask you leave your weapons outside before you go in," Alex said once they had reached the closed door.

"What, you think I can't kill him without a weapon?" Olivier asked, but she removed the gun at her hip and dropped it on Alex's hand.

"I'd rather you didn't, Sis."

Roy expected Olivier to at least step on Alex's foot for overlooking her rank, but she simply glared at him and handed over her sword. Roy passed Alex his own gun and ignition gloves.

"I promise to keep all transmutations non-lethal," he conceded.

Alex nodded, no doubt aware that was the best he would get out of them after yesterday's report, and settled to stand guard at the door while they walked in.

Roy hadn't seen the report prior to this whole fiasco, and as such he didn't know what Robert Sinclair looked like. He knew better than to expect an outwardly disturbing appearance, monsters rarely looked the way they were inside, and indeed he wasn't disappointed. Sinclair was a small man, barely taller than Edward, and even in his prisoner garb it was hard to find anything threatening about him. However he had kidnapped his victims, it was no surprise that he had managed it; even with rumours about the disappearances going around, most people would think they could overpower him if things turned sour. That was, Roy guessed, where alchemy gave him an advantage.

Sinclair's face brightened as soon as they walked in, and he was on his feet even before the door closed again. A wide grin took up most of his face.

"Roy Mustang!" he exclaimed, delighted, and it was in his voice that Roy saw the first hints of instability. "They didn't tell me you were back! I knew you could—!"

Olivier slammed him face first against a wall before he could finish that sentence.

"Shut up," she ordered him, her voice colder than Roy was used to hear. This wasn't Olivier ordering people around or Lieutenant General Armstrong trying to get out of meaningless chatter by scaring off other members of the brass; this was Lieutenant General Armstrong in interrogation mode.

Good.

There was no furniture in the cell other than a cot and a latrine, so Roy settled himself against the door and crossed his arms.

"I don't know why you're so happy to see me, given that I had to modify that array of yours in the first place."

The smile vanished completely from Sinclair's face, replaced by an expression of confusion.

"So many attempts and you hadn't noticed you messed up your return array?" Olivier asked, still holding him. "No wonder you never passed the State Alchemist exam."

Roy spoke again before Sinclair could.

"That doesn't matter now. We're not here to talk alchemy. We want to know everything you remember about your victims," he demanded, tapping the notebook he had brought against his hip.

Alex spent a tense hour standing next to the cell's door, waiting for a scream to come at any moment. It didn't, silence filling the hallway throughout the hour. The door was too thick to let through voices unless they were raised, and it seemed Sinclair had decided to cooperate. Then again, both Olivier and Brigadier General Mustang could be terrifying with only their words, and Sinclair was facing the death penalty. Alex had a team digging up Sinclair's backyard in search of the remaining body parts of the first two girls right now.

The door rattled with the two raps that signalled the end of the interrogation, and Alex hurried to unlock and open it. Olivier walked out followed by Brigadier General Mustang, both of them stony-faced, and Alex got a quick look inside the cell before closing it again; Sinclair was sitting on the cot, his skin ashen and body nearly boneless. Alex couldn't find it in himself to feel sorry for him.

He locked the door again.

Brigadier General Mustang offered him the notebook.

"Unsurprisingly, Sinclair didn't remember any names, but he gave us locations and general descriptions of his victims. Hopefully that should help in identifying them."

Alex nodded and pocketed the notebook.

"I'll gather a team and start on it immediately."

To be continued