A/N: All right, so the plot has made its appearance at last. Yay! I promise it gets deeper from here. Also, I went a little more into the construction and attachment of the automail, but my knowledge of anatomy and physiology is limited to what I overheard from the classroom behind my old office (and what I could manage to dig up with my own research, of course). I know even less about electronics and engineering, with the exception of computers and basic design of complex structures (long story how I learned that last bit). Anyway, I hope everybody enjoys the chapter anyway, foibles and all.

Side Note: Since this is my very first fanfic, I've been surprised and delighted by how well my work's been received so far. Really, I was expecting torches and pitchforks, at the very least. So a huge thank you to everybody who has been reading this little bit of insanity and I hope the results continue to justify your interest. I really did a little happy dance when I saw my first review. Embarrassing, yes, but worth mentioning regardless.

Same disclaimer applies, I don't own FMA or any of the characters therein. Would be nice *sigh* but still not mine anymore than they were in the last chapter.

Chapter 4

An Engineering Masterpiece

Roy woke to the sound of his phone ringing on the bedside table. He lifted his head just enough to crack one eye open and glare at the digital clock only to flip the thing down onto its face a second later so he wouldn't have to witness the tragedy of the ungodly hour. With a groan he picked up the phone to see who would dare call so stupidly early. He didn't recognize the number, but he answered it anyway, even if only to tell the rude bastard to go die.

"Yeah," said Roy vaguely, voice still muffled by the pillow.

"Hello? Is this Roy?" asked the apologetic voice of Alphonse Elric. "This is Alphonse, Edward's brother."

"Hey, what's up?" asked Roy blearily, lifting his head again.

"Well, you see, brother messed up his leg a little yesterday when he fell – you know, the automail one – and he really shouldn't take the bus today. I wondered if you might be willing to pick him up so he's not late for his 8 o'clock class," requested Alphonse, the epitome of polite sincerity and brotherly worry.

"Sure, no problem. I'll be there in 30," replied Roy before the words had even fully sunk in. It wasn't until he hung up that he realized what he'd agreed to and cursed emphatically into his pillow. "Well, too late to get upset now," he muttered to himself.

He managed to get his act together and make it to the Elrics' apartment in the promised 30 minutes and was met outside by a nervous, distinctly annoyed Edward. Ed got into the car, his face just as bleary and discontented about the hour as Roy's – it gave Roy a little bit of petty satisfaction that he wasn't the only one suffering. However, Edward also held out a peace offering. "I even put milk in it," said Ed, grimacing as he handed over the travel mug. "Don't know how you can stand that nasty crap, but whatever." Surprisingly, the coffee was prepared almost exactly the way Roy usually fixed it. He was both touched and in awe of the discovery, his heart squeezing in response – like it was giving itself a hug to show how happy it was.

"You really are an angel, you know that?" said Roy contentedly.

"No such thing as a fucking angel, and especially not one with a mouth like mine," grumbled Ed, blushing at the unintended innuendo. Roy just smiled to himself and pulled away from the curb into light morning traffic.

"So, are you teaching class or attending class today?" asked Roy conversationally. He'd discovered yesterday that distracting Ed helped make the car ride easier for Ed.

"Attending then teaching," replied Ed around his own travel mug. "Then I've got office hours after that, a couple hours in the lab to re-run those cultures, class again then four hours at the diner, study for a bit, and sleep. Ain't I just a party animal?"

"Is your schedule always that heavy?" asked Roy, disconcerted.

"Pretty much," answered Ed with a shrug. "Just because me and Al are full-time college students doesn't mean we don't still have to work to keep the lights on. Now that we're over eighteen, we don't get money from the state anymore, and the Curtises couldn't afford to keep supporting us forever. Al's got a scholarship to help him finish his medical degree, and the last of the insurance money has been paying for my PhD since I lost my scholarship. But we have to eat and keep a roof over our heads and pay for books and materials and shit. I won't let Al work. He's got too much on his plate as it is. He tutors on the weekends, but that's it. I get paid a little for teaching a few classes here at the university, plus I do some tutoring and work part-time at the diner in between."

"But then you also attend classes and have to work on your thesis and spend time in the lab," added Roy and Ed nodded. "Good lord, Ed, you're not just burning the candle at both ends. You lit it in the middle too. I'll be very surprised if you don't drop dead from an aneurysm before you hit twenty-five. Actually, at the rate you're going, you'll be completely bald before the year is out. How have you not gotten an ulcer by now?"

"What can I say? I've got the devil's luck," answered Ed with broad sarcasm. "Which is funny because I don't believe in either one."

"And there's no way to squeeze the government or the school for more money?" asked Roy, feeling a bit incredulous about the whole thing. "Hell, with your brain, they should be paying you for the privilege of having their name attached to your credentials. They're getting a huge jump in prestige just by having you here, not to mention the grant money you bring in for vital research. They deserve to have to work a little harder to keep you."

"You and I both know that, but try telling that to the dean sometime," snorted Ed bitterly. "To be honest, I think the man sincerely hates me now. He grabbed my ass once – I guess he thought I was a girl or something – so I fucking popped him in the jaw and made sure that everybody within a hundred miles could hear me calling him a fucking perv." Really, Roy could sympathize with anybody who had a fascination with Ed's ass – it was worth being fascinated by. However, that didn't mean they had the right to grab it without permission, especially somebody like the dean who should have known better than to sexually harass a student like that. Or maybe . . . no, that couldn't possibly be it.

"He may have done that because he thought you wouldn't say anything, maybe for fear of losing your scholarship or funding," suggested Roy. "And I bet he's done it before to other students, but the others didn't have the guts to turn him down."

"Fuck!" spat Ed, his eyes growing wider. "You're probably fucking right! That sonuvabitch! Just wait until I tell Izumi about this! She'll kill him!"

"You know, let me talk to my friend Maes – that weird guy with the camera that was with me at the exhibition," said Roy, thinking out loud. "He may look goofy and a little throwed off, but he may very well have been trained by Batman or at least be part ninja. If there's a secret to be known in this school, he'll know it or know how to find it. If we can get proof that the dean is a sleaze, we might be able to get your scholarship back."

"Do you really think so?" asked Ed, looking skeptical but with a faint spark of hope in his eyes.

"Just leave it to me," said Roy, feeling like he'd just saved a busload of orphans and their fuzzy puppies. "I can't promise anything, but the least I can do is try."

When Roy pulled onto the private streets that wove between the campus buildings, Ed pointed out the building his class would be in, and Roy pulled up as close he could. "You keep helping me out," said Ed wonderingly, looking at Roy like he might actually be an alien. "I mean, don't get me wrong. I'm totally grateful. It's just . . . I'm not used to people being helpful. Mostly people who give you something do it because they want something in return."

"I'm hoping if I impress you enough with my charm, I might eventually get laid," quipped Roy. Really, he half-expected Ed to get offended, but he was banking on Ed being just the right mixture of mischievous and irreverent that he might at least be a little amused. He was not wrong. Ed tipped his head back to unleash his marvelous laughter, his eyes dancing with his mirth. Roy was more than happy to laugh with him. "But seriously though," said Roy when some of the laughter died down. "I don't like leaving people in a lurch. If somebody I know needs a hand and I can offer it, I do. That's just how I was raised. I watch out for my own."

"Yeah, well, me too," said Ed, his tone still tingling with the last bubbling breaths of laughter. Roy smiled to himself and waited while Ed gathered his stuff from the back of the car. When he bent down to reach into the car from the open car door, Roy thought he was just grabbing his coffee, but instead he left a soft kiss on Roy's cheek and gave him a rakish grin. "Thanks. For everything."

"No problem," said Roy on autopilot – his brain, meanwhile, was completely short-circuited. Ed giggled at him as he closed the car door, his cheeks lit with a soft blush and his delighted smile enchanting. It took a full minute for Roy's mind to finish rebooting so that he was able to drive away, and he wouldn't put it past Edward to be chortling at him all the way to class.

Roy drove over to the labs, already pulling out his phone to call Maes. His friend wouldn't have class until later that day, but if he could talk to Maes early enough they might be able to have a confab over lunch to discuss Ed's situation. Roy laid it out for Maes with what little he knew from Ed's brief story, and although he'd sounded half-asleep, Maes had asked enough questions to indicate that he'd understood what Roy wanted from him.

And, as might be expected of the Great Maes Hughes, by lunchtime he already had a plethora of juicy tidbits to share. "Does this mean I get to meet your little blonde – without the old guy wig this time?" asked Maes his green eyes twinkling as he waggled his eyebrows. Roy rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Only if we can find him," replied Roy with a shrug.

"Well, that's easy," said Maes as if the answer should be obvious. He pulled out his smart phone and used it to log in to the campus website. "You said he had to teach a class today right? With office hours after that?" Roy nodded. "So, we pull up the office hours schedule for Professor Edward Elric. And . . . look at that," he turned his phone to show Roy. "Now we even know where his office is, and if we hurry we can catch him before he goes to lunch. Let's go!" Roy could only sigh again and follow along since there was no stopping Maes once he'd decided to something.

Unsurprisingly, they ended up at the science building just down the path from the labs. Ed's office door was open when they approached, but Roy knocked anyway and waited until Ed looked up from what he was doing before speaking. To Roy's confused amusement, Edward was wearing round wire-framed reading glasses perched halfway down his nose, the silver frames contrasting nicely with his burnished gold eyes. It was easily the cutest thing Roy had ever seen, but when he saw the vein all but bursting in Ed's temple, he wisely refrained from mentioning it. Ed was clearly already pissed about something, and Roy figured it was best not to become that something. "Hey, Ed, remember I told you about my friend this morning? The nosy weirdo with the photo fetish?" Ed nodded slowly, and Roy could see the corners of younger man's mouth twitch. "Well, this is my creepy childhood friend Maes. Maes Hughes, meet Edward Elric, our resident super-genius. Maes found some stuff out, and we wanted to talk you about it over lunch. But if you already have plans for lunch, we can do it another time."

"I have to go to the gym for lunch," replied Ed, rolling his eyes to show he'd rather be doing anything else. "Winry fixed up my leg, but now we have to test it and make sure it doesn't need any more calibrating. You can come with, if you want. It's not like I can't multitask."

Ed grabbed a duffle bag from under his desk and threw it over his shoulder then led the way to the school's gym. The main gym was bisected by a dividing wall, half taken up by the basketball court and the other half by the slightly smaller volleyball court. The building just behind it held only exercise machines and weight benches. Winry met them at the entrance to that second building, an orange plastic case in one hand and a toolbox in the other. She greeted Roy and was introduced to Maes – who promptly showered her with a barrage of whatever pictures of his wife and daughter he had stored on his phone.

"Win, I haven't got long, so I'm gonna go get changed," said Ed, interrupting.

"Right, let's do this!" said Winry chasing after him, thereby deftly avoiding the rest of the photographic deluge. As Maes and Roy started to follow them in, Roy took a second to smack his friend in the back of the head on his way by.

"I can see what all the fuss is about now," said Maes archly, fixing his dark hair where Roy had hit him. "He's a looker, that's for sure. And when it comes to smarts, he's the real deal. Did you know that the he had his first patent by the age of 8? His first paper was published when he was 11. He's made a habit of systematically turning the scientific community on its ear since he was barely out of training pants. Now, Roy, I know you're brilliant too, but are you sure you're up for this sort of challenge?"

"Maes, look, just because he's a super-genius doesn't mean he's not also a person," Roy told him. "He may have a lot going on upstairs, but he still has all the same wants and needs of people everywhere."

"Yeah, yeah, nerds are people too," said Maes, waving him off. "I get it. Now hop to, or you'll be the one not getting it." His tone and emphasis made the inference plane.

"Ha, ha, very funny," drawled Roy. "Careful you don't cut yourself with that razor wit of yours."

"Meh, it's not quite good enough to shave with," countered Maes.

"Which is why you've had that godawful stubble since . . . you know, actually I think you may have been born with that stubble! I'll have to confirm it with your mom of course," continued Roy as they moved into the exercise room and joined Winry where she was setting up some sort of equipment next to a treadmill. "Need any help with that?" Roy asked her.

"Nope, all done," she said proudly. "Actually, I may need help getting Ed out of his shirt – not that I think you'll mind that part. At least, not until the first time he throws you. That's when the minding starts."

"Don't tell me he's thrown you before," said Maes, frowning in blatant disapproval.

"Of course I did," said Ed without the least shred of remorse as he entered from the locker room. He was wearing a pair of close-fitting black sweat pants and a long-sleeved black t-shirt. Barefoot and without his gloves, it was easy to see the automail hand and foot, all sleek glinting steel built into an incredibly close proximity of human appendages. The joints of fingers, toes, wrists, and ankles were all fully articulated so that they moved almost exactly the same as normal limbs. On top of that they weren't bulky, the limbs having been carefully crafted to be almost the same size as Ed's natural limbs. "When somebody is beating you with a wrench, you have three choices: punch, kick, or throw. If she was a fighter, I'd have punched or kicked her – her gender wouldn't have made a difference. My Teacher, who taught me and my brother martial arts, is a woman, after all. But, Winry isn't a fighter, just a violent gorilla who happens to be a childhood friend. So I bruised her pride to save myself the concussion. She's used to it by now. With all the pain she's caused me over the years, it's the least she deserves."

"Oh hush, you big baby, you know we'd put you to sleep through that part if we could," said Winry, and her teasing smile had just a hint of sadness to it. "Now, am I going to have these nice gentlemen wrestle you out of your shirt or are you going to behave for once?"

"I don't know," said Ed, walking up to Roy and giving him a dangerously sultry little smirk. "The wrestling might not be all bad." He winked then continued past Roy to the treadmill as Roy felt his face heat like an oven blast. "Sadly, I have no time for it. I've got a lot of work to do today. Let's get this over with." He paused for a second with his hands on the hem of his shirt then cast a last wary glance back at Roy and Maes. Finally, he sighed as if defeated and yanked off his shirt. Immediately Roy's breath caught in his throat.

Ed's upper body was a work of art. He was lithe and lean, with cleanly muscled shoulders and back and a perfectly outlined set of abs all wrapped in that marvelous pale gold skin. However, his torso – from back to front – was covered in scars of every description from negligible to horrific. The prosthesis replacing his right arm, surrounded by its own nest of scars, covered his entire right shoulder, part of his right collar bone, and part of his right pectoral muscle. The plates anchoring the metal arm were almost elegant with their smoothly curving lines giving way to the metal mock-up of human sinew, bone, and nerve pathways. For some reason, the scars and the automail didn't make him look flawed. Instead, they made him seem complete, like a sword that had not only been forged in fire but fought with in battle and made more perfect by the history of its imperfections. Edward was the perfect blending of the achievements of both God and man. Ed wasn't so much perfect as perfected – a masterpiece after its completion.

Edward got up on the treadmill then stood patiently while Winry attached little sensors to his chest, back, and head. He then had to roll up his left pants leg so she could remove the leg's outer shell to reveal a far more intricate and ingenious bit of engineering prowess hidden beneath the armor like surface. She carefully stuck yet more sensors in between the muscle-like collection of metal rods and wires of the automail leg, making the spectators wince.

"Doesn't that hurt?" asked Maes, still wincing.

"Nope," answered Edward with a shrug. "As long as you don't jack up the ports or the nerve receptors, I don't feel anything in those limbs. I can sense pressure to a certain degree, but otherwise have no sense of touch or pain. But that means that I had to train myself to gauge how much pressure is too much. In the beginning I broke a lot of coffee cups and couldn't even be trusted with cutlery. Now I could hold a kitten in that hand without hurting a hair on its head. I still can't write though, which sucks 'cause I'm right handed. But we're working on that. It gets better with every upgrade."

"Yep, that's all we can do, just keep improving. There's no such thing as perfect to a true engineer. You can always improve on what's there," said Winry proudly as she connected the last of the sensor wires to the machine contained in the orange box. "All right Ed, we're good."

Ed hit the button on the control panel of the treadmill then started off at a light jog, telling Roy and Maes, "Talk to me guys. What'd you find out about Grabby McSleezeball?"

Both men choked at the nickname, Roy containing his laughter with a hand over his mouth and Maes covering it with a cough. "Well, our friend . . . ahem, Mr. Grabby, has been a very busy boy for a fairly long time. I don't think it'll be possible to bring him up on charges yet, but at the very least we've got leverage enough to scare him into doing the right thing and keeping his hands safely in his own pockets." Ed picked up his running pace, frowning as if concentrating on something. "It's not ideal, but it's the best we can do until we can get more witnesses to confirm his bad behavior. With enough sworn testimony, we can at least get him fired and brought up on charges of sexual harassment. Would you be willing to go on the list of possible witnesses?"

"Maybe," said Ed after a minute – how was the guy not the least bit out of breath yet. "As close as I am to a breakthrough, I don't want to risk making waves unless I have to. If you can't find enough witnesses, I'll do it. Otherwise, it'd probably be better if I didn't. Besides, my credibility isn't great because pretty much everybody – faculty, staff, and students alike – think I'm just a loud-mouth punk. They're not wrong, so I don't correct them."

"Hey! I won't let you talk shit about my best friend like that!" protested Winry angrily, brandishing her wrench. Ed ducked just in time to avoid the swing, and Winry puffed out her cheeks to show her annoyance at his escape. "I'll have you know that there are a ton of people on this campus who like you. Even you're A &P, Pharmacology, and Intro to Physics students – who call you the Devil Incarnate – still think you're awesome. It's just the tests and assignments they hate. I mean, look how crowded your classes are. Every class you teach has to be booked in the biggest halls because so many students sign up. Really, Ed, you're way too hard on yourself."

"Keep telling yourself that," muttered Edward with a soft sigh. "How are we looking over there, Win? I don't want to end up getting all sweaty. It's gonna be a while before I can get to a shower."

"All right," gave in Winry. "We can move on to the balance check."

All of the sensors were detached, but Ed's pants leg got rolled up still further so a different type of sensor could be applied to the automail leg, the new sensors entirely wireless. Roy was a little surprised to discover exactly high up the automail went. The port was attached mid-thigh, so, in essence, Ed had lost almost the entire leg. Roy could only imagine how ghastly the accident had to have been to have cost him so much.

"Okay, Ed, let's see what you've got," said Winry stepping back so that Ed could step off the treadmill and move over to an open bit of floor covered in matts. "Whenever you're ready, we'll start with the right leg." Ed nodded and took up a loose fighting stance. Despite his size, with that iron-hard glint in his eyes and the easy professional quality of his stance, Ed looked remarkably intimidating – especially after he started moving. He executed a series of lightning fast kicks with his right leg, even jumping incredibly high for some sort of insane kick Roy didn't even know the name for. Ed was like a character out of a fighting game. As he landed for the last time with incredible poise, Roy could swear he could hear a melodramatic video game voice say "K-O".

"How does it feel?" Winry asked him, frowning at her laptop. She had sat down on the floor, using the orange box to prop up her laptop so she could work.

"There was a twinge when I landed the second time," answered Ed honestly. "It was really mild compared to twinges in the past, but still. I don't think it's a calibration issue. I think one of the connectors has come a little bit loose and is jiggling."

"Hm, but you say it's not too bad?" asked Winry looking up to level a severe glare at Edward, daring him to try lying to her.

"Yeah, it's not too bad. As long as I'm just walking around normally it should be fine," replied Ed with a shrug. "It can wait until Sunday at least. I don't have work Sunday, and I only have the one class on Monday."

"I'll come over around 10:00 on Sunday," promised Winry as she locked the shell in place on Ed's leg. Ed nodded then left to go change. Winry sighed heavily as she packed her stuff away.

"I've heard from reliable sources that automail surgery is incredibly painful," said Maes, his tone idle but the look in his eyes as shrewd as always. "I've heard it said that it hurts worse than the amputation itself."

"It can," admitted Winry, her eyes somewhat haunted as she looked toward the doorway through which Edward had gone. "To anchor the automail and evenly distribute the weight of the limb, we have to anchor it to bone. For Ed, who lost the arm up to the shoulder, we drilled holes into his collar bone, ribs, and scapula then used metal plates and bone grafts to strengthen load-bearing bones. We can use a general anesthetic for that part of the procedure at least, but the patient definitely feels it when they wake up. And that's just the beginning. It's a multi-step procedure, you see. The patient is given a few weeks between each step because the pain of the procedure is extreme and doing too much at once puts too much stress on the body, and also because of the risk of rejection or possible infection. The hardest part is when we attach the nerve connectors to the receptors that have been grafted to the existing nerve pathways. You have to be awake for that. Even the hardest war vet ends up crying and begging like a baby. But not Ed . . . he just grits his teeth and bears it. You can tell it's excruciating, but he never screams, never cries, never begs. He just says 'I have to be strong. Al needs me to be strong.' The worst part is that, since he got the automail as a child, he's outgrown the ports twice, and had to go through that surgery all over again to replace them. And just to put the cherry on top, every single time we detach and reattach his limbs, the nerve pain is just as awful as the first time. Honestly, I don't know how he does it. But one day . . . one day I'll perfect the procedure so that I never have to see that look on his face again."

"I'm sure someone as brilliant as you will figure out a way," said Maes in a surprisingly gentle voice, both comforting and reassuring – a father's voice.

Ed emerged from the locker room once again wearing his usual jeans and red hoodie, but his hair was down and he looked faintly disgruntled. "Win, do you have another hair tie? Mine broke again," he inquired, holding up the offending object.

"I might have an alternative," offered Roy, gesturing for Ed to approach then meeting him halfway. He pulled a small paperclip out of his pocket and straightened it out then held it between his teeth to free up his hands as Ed turned around. It felt like an immense privilege to be able to run his fingers through those silken gold strands while he attempted to draw the shimmering mass into a neat tail. As his finger brushed along Edward's scalp he felt Ed shiver a little and filed away the reaction for later exploration. Using the paperclip like a twist-tie, Roy finally secured the ponytail in place, releasing Ed's hair with a light twinge of regret. "It's not the most secure in the world, but it should get you through the day at least."

"You're making habit of coming to my rescue," said Ed, looking up at him through his thick eyelashes with a coy little smile. "I gotta say, I don't hate it." He grinned and tapped Roy once on the end of his nose with his index finger then sauntered away to help Winry.

"Okay, Ed, just be careful at work tonight. Let Paninya know what's going on, and I'm sure she'll go easy on you tonight," said Winry as the four of them left the gym.

"What diner do you work at anyway?" asked Roy, and Ed looked back at him over his shoulder.

"Dante's," he answered. "It's a hole-in-the-wall, but it's walking distance from here and right next to the bus stop, so I can't complain too much – not for fucking lack of wanting to. Plus they pretty much let me make my own schedule since my manager is an automailer too and an engineering student. She understands the bullshit I have to juggle. She's pretty cool, just crazy as fuck and way too fascinated with my fucking prosthetics. She actually tried stealing my arm once. Winry thought it was hilarious – you evil gorilla, don't think I can't see you over there fucking grinning. You know, I heard when apes smile it's actually a sign of aggression."

Roy tried not to laugh – really he did – but when Maes started making that choked sound that meant he was secretly snickering, Roy couldn't hold it back anymore. It only got worse when Winry dropped the toolbox, brandished a wrench with a flourish like a magician and started chasing Ed with it. Edward just laughed and nimbly side-stepped her again and again, all but dancing around her, and occasionally using Roy and Maes as shields. Eventually, Winry gave up – gorilla or not, she just didn't have stamina that Ed did.

Once Winry parted ways with them, Ed pulled Roy and Maes into his office and closed the door, locking it behind them. "So, what exactly are we supposed to do with this information of yours? Because I've got this bad fucking feeling that if he sees a connection between me and these accusations . . . just, trust me, there's a whole lot of fucking ways shit can go sideways for me. I need to complete my research. And I really need this fucking job."

"I get it, Ed, I do," said Maes, dropping into one of the two chairs in front of Ed's cluttered desk. "I won't lie. I had hoped we could just do this in the most straightforward way possible – which would be extorting him for good behavior. It'd throw him off balance and keep him from paying attention to the side approaches where the next attacks will be coming from. Is there anything you can tell me that might help us find another approach?"

"Maybe," said Ed pensively. He reached into his desk drawer and fumbled around until he came out with a manila envelope. "In here are the terms and requirements for keeping my scholarships, dating back to the first scholarships I received when I started out. I also have the terms for the appropriation and use of funds for my research and the terms for the intellectual property rights for my discoveries. I think the money might be another angle to try. I mean, I'm not getting my scholarship money, obviously. But I haven't violated the terms or missed a single fucking requirement. So either he lied to the board to get my scholarship yanked, or he's still getting the money and it's just not reaching me. So, either he's guilty of fraud or he's guilty of embezzlement."

"He~y," said Maes with a slow villainous grin. "Now you're talking! That's something we can definitely sink our teeth into. What about your research funding? Does that come to you directly or does it come through the school?"

"It comes through the school and is applied to whatever I need to spend it on. I give them invoices or supply lists and they request the money to pay for it all out of my research budget," explained Ed with a little shrug. He closed his eyes and said, as if reciting, " 'Which includes, but is not limited to, all items meeting the aforementioned criteria stipulated in section 3c of the contract. Should additional items or services be required, the above terms will be revisited so that all changes may be decided upon by a budgetary board consisting of no less than three presiding members from the board of directors, which may include' blah, blah, blah . . . anyway, it goes on for a bit after that. The contract is in there, though. There's a confidentiality clause in there, but it's pretty generalized and only refers to the specifics of my research. For instance, I can tell you what it's about, but I can't give you any of the equations or formulae or schematics for project-specific equipment that I created – Big Bertha, for instance, which I built just for this. I mean, once it's all said and done, I'll still own the patent on Big Bertha, but anything I created with her for these people is nobody's fucking business but mine and my pharma sugar daddies. And before you ask, they already know I call them that. Their CEO cracks up every single time. That old fart's a riot, I swear. Sometimes I think he picked me just for my fucked up personality."

"Actually, do you think that CEO is sweet enough on you to hand over a list of expenditures so we can see if there're any discrepancies?" asked Maes and Ed shrugged.

"If not, I have my ways," he said cryptically.

"And do you keep any sort of record of what you actually spend and what you spend it on?" Ed nodded slowly again. "Good deal! Then let's see what we can do with this." Maes's smile fell then, and he gave Ed a very serious look. "Now, look, I don't think I need to tell you to keep this to yourself. You're the last person who wants this getting around. But it might be a good idea to make sure Winry knows too. Also, if you start asking questions, try to be as careful as you can or all the discretion in the world won't make a damn bit of difference. If you need to find something out, but you think it'd be noticed if you're the one looking into it, just let me know. I'm pretty good at this sort of thing. I don't want this ass hole to see us coming so he won't be able to defend himself when it finally bites him in the ass."

"Fuck, I'm glad it's not me on your bad side," said Ed with a short laugh.

"Well, Roy has my number if you need me," said Maes as he got to his feet. Ed nodded simply and grabbed a business card out of the top drawer of his desk. He scribbled something on the back of it.

"Here, Hughes," said Ed, holding out the card. "The number for my lab and office are on the front, my cell number is on the back. Call if anything changes that I need to know about. If I'm about to get caught up in a shit storm, I want time to batten down the fucking hatches."

"Gotcha," said Maes, understanding completely. He nodded to Ed and waved to Roy then left, not bothering to close the door behind him.

"I didn't think this was going to turn into such a big fucking deal," said Ed, puffing out a loud breath as sprawled out in his chair.

"You know, if you don't want to have to deal with all this, you don't have to," said Roy. He didn't think Ed would back out, but he wanted him to know he had the option. "You don't owe anybody anything, and you have a lot to lose if it goes wrong."

"No," said Ed, shaking his head and closing his eyes. "I can't help but wonder how many others are out there, the poor bastards getting fucked out of their education because they didn't want to get groped by this jackhole. And how many have been cornered into giving in to him? I mean, fucking hell, that's almost worse than just rape. You can't even tell yourself you fought back. That'd make you feel even shittier and more helpless, wouldn't it? No, I have the ability to do something, so I will. It's just that easy. I'll take on the burden of the consequences, and I'll see this through to the end."

"I thought you'd say that," said Roy, smiling, and Ed immediately blushed. "I'll see you at the lab," Roy told him, getting to his feet. A couple steps put him on the other side of the desk and he left a kiss on Ed's cheek, just like Ed had done that morning. "You did good," Roy told him softly. As Roy walked down the hall, the memory of the endearing scarlet of Ed's face put an extra spring in his step.