OUR LIVES, CHAPTER 25:HOT WATER

By the Binary Alchemist 2013

It wasn't a discussion Winry had wanted to have at the breakfast table, but her daughter Sara was never one to hold her tongue about anything. "Mom?" She held up the morning paper. "Did Uncle Roy really kill babies in the war?"

Sara was pointing to an article on the front page of the Central Times with the headline "Blood And Fire—A New Look At The President's Role In The Ishballan Massacre". 'It says here," she read aloud, "'the release of these previously unseen photographs by former military photographer and news reporter Donal Samuelson show in graphic detail the historic 1908 Dahlia campaign and does not flinch from images of charred corpses, smoking ruins and, in one notable image, a badly burned infant clinging to the body of its dead mother. While the volume acknowledges the actions of other well known alchemists such as Alex Louis Armstrong, Giglio Comanche and Zolf Kimblee, much of the book's focus centers upon the actions of the then 22-year-old President Roy Mustang, who had recently been certified as a State Alchemist'—"

"Give me that!" Winry snatched the paper out of her daughter's hand before Sara could read any more and upset her siblings. She scanned the article and shook her head. Her children, thankfully, were not growing up in wartime as she and Pitt and the Elric brothers had done. Winry had lost her parents, and even Pitt's mother had been caught in the crossfire that day in 1907 when Ishballan rebels, armed with Aerugoan weapons, invaded and burned most of Resembool to the ground. For every Amestrian civilian who was killed nearly a hundred more Ishballan men, women and children lost their lives . To Winry's mind, there was no point keeping score. The war had been senseless, needless and served only the purposes of the regime Roy Mustang had fought to remove from power. '

"Sara," she said as calmly as she could manage, "before you jump to any conclusions, we need to talk. But not now. After breakfast, let's go down to the shop, okay? There's a lot more to this than in the story. My mom and dad were actually there during the war, and your Aunt Riza was there, too. I'm going to put this away," she gestured towards the morning news, "for now and then let's talk after breakfast, okay?"

"Okayyyy…." Sara looked confused and troubled. She adored Uncle Roy. He didn't visit often but whenever she and her siblings came to visit in Central he always treated the children kindly, always interested in them and their dreams and ambitions. He had encouraged her to keep up with her studies and when she shyly admitted her hopes of studying veterinary medicine he had gifted her with a number of very valuable books he'd found for her. He seemed to care for her, and her step siblings Maes and Nina loved him very, very much. It upset her to think that a man who could be so kind could kill other children…had she been wrong about Uncle Roy all along?

###

"Welcome back, Colonel Hawkeye." Roy didn't even glance up from his paperwork. "I'm going on the assumption that Doctor Knox has released you from care with no restrictions?"

"Yes, Sir."

"What was his diagnosis?"

Hawkeye was still standing crisply at attention. "Hypertension, Sir, with mild tachycardia. It runs in the family on my mother's side, according to my mother's medical records. Doctor Knox has prescribed medications that have worked successfully. My blood pressure is now within normal limits and there are no restrictions on my activities."

"Good." There was something quietly emphatic in that single word that made it clear to Hawkeye that Mustang was relieved she would be fine. "You will continue under his medical supervision and I expect to be updated with any change in your condition. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir!"

"Since this is your first day back, I need you to attend to some personal correspondence regarding the economic summit in Table City in three weeks. Familiarize yourself with the itinerary and check to see if there are any potential security issues. Major Havoc is coordinating."

A slight pause. "Very good, Sir."

"This morning I'll be in a Parliamentary meeting. I expect to be there until after lunch. I have scheduled an inspection for you this morning."

"Inspection, sir?"

Mustang pressed the intercom and called for Sebastian, who appeared with disturbing efficiency. "Sebastian, Colonel Hawkeye will be inspecting the second floor Nihonese bathing room. I have consulted with Doctor Knox and he assures me that the water temperature is not sufficient to cause any health risks. You will provide her with towels, a dressing gown and tea. Following this, she will inspect the third floor solarium and critique Chef Ramsay's revised luncheon menu. We will be having several dignitaries visiting for the wedding. I need to be certain that our hospitality is up to presidential standards. Dismissed!"

Since Roy and Ed didn't generally luxuriate in the sunken bath during the morning hours, they had made the bathing room accessible by invitation to the immediate family and personal staff. Alphonse had enjoyed it quite a bit, and Havoc had been scolded for leaving ashtrays along the edge of the tub and Nina had scolding him sharply for smoking inside the house.

So when he was called into the President's office for his daily assignments he was surprised to be told to inspect the Nihonese bathing room on the second floor. "Check for booby traps, Major. Make sure nothing escapes your attention. I need to check inside the tub and its surroundings. We had plumbing staff on site yesterday checking the overflow skimmer and I want a security follow-up. Sebastian will provide you with towels. Dismissed!"

"Yessir!"

Ruby, who had brought some reports from Ed's office for Roy to look over, glanced at the tall Major as he closed the doors behind him.

Her sharp gaze moved to the President. "Booby traps." She rolled her eyes. "Even for you, that's bad."

Accustomed to Ruby's lack of respect for anything with a pulse other than Alphonse Elric, Roy smirked into his coffee cup. "This ridiculous quarrel between the Major and the Colonel has gone on long enough. I don't have time for this. "

"What are you going to do, lock them in the bath room together?"

Roy glanced at her, pleasantly reminded once again why Ruby made such a perfect foil and bodyguard for Ed. She was, as Ramsay once observed, definitely one of the sharper knives in the drawer. "An excellent suggestion. See to it, Ruby."

"You got it, boss man. Oh," she added, almost nonchalantly, you've got mail."

He gave her a mildly exasperated look. "I always have mail, Ruby. I'm the President of Amestris. "

'Yeah, well, Mister President, you don't always get mail like this." Stepping out into the hall, she returned, pushing a full mail cart ahead of her. "The guys in the mailroom had to call in for reinforcements."

Roy looked surprised. Normally his personal mail load was impressive but this was nearly double his morning delivery. The mail room boys sorted his correspondence. Official mail went to Sheska. Anything that might be construed as threatening or suspect went to Hawkeye, Havoc having filled in during her absence. Personal requests, messages from children, and other non-official letters for Roy went through the secretarial team who vetted the requests and sorted them under Greeting, Grievance, Wants Money, Wants Sex, Marriage Proposals, Suggestions, Assistance and Kids. Anything written by a child was delivered straight to Roy's desk and he and Sheska did their best to acknowledge and respond to each one, even if it was just a quick note.

"I'm guessing these are from the marriage proposal bin," Roy guessed. "I never knew that my impending nuptials would make so many women and men jealous."

"You wish. Nope, we've got a brand new category for you, Big Man: War Correspondence."

"Really. If this is about Blood and Fire, the damn thing has only been out—let me see…" Snagging the first letter off the top of the bin, Roy unfolded it and began to read aloud. "Juliet Heismann, Age 11. 'Dear President Mustang—you made my little sister cry. We saw in a book that you burned up babies and people and killed all the Isballan people with fire. I didn't know you could do that. That is very, very mean. My sister cried and cried and said you were a bad man. Dad said it was in a war. I told her I would ask you if you were a bad man or did somebody make you do it? Even if they did, you should have said no…"

He opened another. "You are a bad, scary man. Go away." He folded the note, scrawled in purple crayon. "Calvin, age 7, Mrs. Teague's class. West Central Elementary."

"So…what are you going to do," Ruby wanted to know.

Roy straightened his back and began to neatly stack the children's letters on his desk. "I'm going to read them." He took a deep breath. "And find a way to answer them. All of them."

###

Hawkeye left for the palace as soon as she'd finished her breakfast, and so Alphonse had had time to linger over coffee at Il Gattina's with his niece. He was still rather dusty and grimy from crawling around in the back of the Dewey, Dickon and Howe and Sons warehouse, standing guard while Nina repaired the damage done to the print rollers of Fire and Vice.

The young woman was quite contrite over what she had done—more so since the damage directly resulted in Kelly Winchell teaming up with Donal Samuelson and the release of Blood and Fire. She had cried in her uncle's arms, harder than she had ever wept as a child. And when Elycia had confided to Alphonse and Hawkeye that Nina had recently decided to lay aside a possible career in medical alchemy for public service, the two old friends thought hard about what had been done and how to find an equivalent exchange for the harm done.

Finally, Alphonse pronounced his judgment. 'Nina…everybody makes mistakes. I know that better than anybody, except maybe your dad…and your Uncle Roy. We can't run away from our mistakes and we have a responsibility to face up to what we've done. However," he lifted a cautioning finger, "if we turn you in or send you to the police, we could be robbing the future of one of the most dedicated public servants it has ever had. This country needs minds like yours, Nina. I'm upset that you and your brother broke the law but I don't want your career in public service ruined before it begins…so…here is what we will do…."

Young Cameron Howe wasn't upset to be awakened out of a sound sleep in the wee hours. What he wasn't used to was pretty girls and their famous uncles and a legendary general invading his flat to talk in the middle of the night. But he was young enough and kind enough to offer them coffee and cake and to listen as the earnest young woman told him how she had orchestrated the sabotaging of the print run of Fire and Vice. She admitted candidly that she was wrong, had led her brother to do wrong and asked not only for forgiveness but the best way to make things right.

He could have reported her to the police for criminal vandalism, but the sincerity in her voice and face and the great pleasure of not having to deal with Kelly Winchell again swayed him to handle the matter privately.

And so it was that Nina Elric had repaired the print rolls, Cameron watching in amazement as she worked, great sparks of blue light flashing from her fingertips. "Gee, that's impressive," he whistled, adding slyly, "you don't think you might transmute another Buckety-Buckety book for me, would you?" He was smiling now. "If you could manage that, I'd say the debt is settled. And," he pulled out some typewritten notes from his desk, "I've got a few ideas from Winchell's old letters about where the story was heading…it could be a corker if we tried…maybe we could discuss this over luncheon…if you don't mind?" He shook her hand gently. "Sometimes we land in hot water and get scalded…but if we're lucky we get a good cup of tea in the bargain."

Back at Rose Hill Alphonse had been about to shower off the grime and dust when it occurred to him that a long soak in the sunken bath might be just the ticket after a long and wearying night. Pulling on his dressing gown he strolled down the hall to the bathing room, confident that, with Ed out of the house and Roy at work, his warm dip would be completely undisturbed….

###

"Let's go get some coffee, shall we?"

Kelly Winchell was given just enough time to snatch back her composure after recognizing the owner of the nose she had just smashed with her purse. She drew herself up indignantly. "I have nothing to say to you."

The evil grin widened. "Didn't think so. You sure you won't have coffee with me?" Kelly Winchell didn't dignify him with an answer. "Okay. You asked for it."

Edward Elric screamed. It was very loud, very high pitched and instantly regrettable. It cut through her ears like a chain saw against solid steel. He dropped to the ground, clutching his bleeding face and rolled himself up into a ball, whimpering with agony. "….my face…oh god…my face…my-"

"You're not hurt," she hissed. "Get up, Elric! You look ridiculous!"

Edward continued to yell, the blood from his nose making a gory mess of his shirt. Several drunks peered around corners and out of rubbish dumpsters to see what the ruckus was al about. Annoyed, Winchell poked him with her foot. He screamed louder. "I'm blind! I can't see! She smashed my glasses into my face!"

"Oy! Watchermessinwivhim for, eh?" A mouldy green overcoat that stank of piss appeared at Kelly Winchell's elbow. There was a head above the collar, and when the mouth opened to speak the stench of the man's breath nearly wilted her hair spray.

"Somebody messin' wit' da Perfesser?" A toothless woman wanted to know. A battered straw hat was jammed on her head, studded with the most lethal assortment of rusty hat pins Winchell had ever seen.

"Oooh, lookit the blood!" A stocky one-legged man hopped over on crutches. His teeth, what there were of them, sported a fascinating array of green bits, as if he had just trimmed someone's lawn with his choppers. "Mustang'll not like seein' His Nibs all bloody-like."

"Who…what…the hell…are you?" Winchell stuttered, clutching her bag to her bosom and unconsciously stepping closer to Edward Elric as if he might protect her.

Edward sat up abruptly, smiling broadly. "Glad you asked, Miss Winchell. Allow me to introduce you to Big Cock's Flock—well, some of them, anyway. This is Madhattie—" the harpy with the straw hat curtsied. "—and Sweetlips—" he saluted the moss-toothed man on crutches, "and let's not forget Foul Ole Rooney—don't' let him touch you. Scabies are pretty contagious."

"Not to worry, Perfesser. Wouldn't let the ole ratbag lay a finger on me," Foul Ole Rooney assured him, stepping back a bit from Winchell. "Don't wan' none of her uptown cooties in me hair!"

Winchell was having none of this. Even though the Flock scared the willies out of her she refused to be intimidated. "Get away from me or…or…I'll call for the police!"

"An' tellem wot, persisely?" Madhattie asked. "That'choo bashed th' lad in th' face wiv your bag—and him so pretty an' all!"

"Oooh! It's a scandal, I tell you!" Sweetlips sighed. "I think we need to send for Big Cock."

Winchell paled. "Who…?"

"Guy I've known since I was twelve. He's got some really creative ways of keeping the peace in this neighborhood. "

"Fink she gots any gold fillin's in her teeth?" Rooney wanted to know. "Look good on Big Cock's watch chain if he punches 'em out her flappin' jaw, like."

Ed lifted his hand, signaling for quiet. 'Nobody is punching anybody. We're all…friends…here, right?" Kelly Winchell's mouth dropped open in shock. "I said right?" Ed repeated. "You might want to nod," he whispered to the novelist, "if you want to get out of here with your purse in hand and your teeth still in your head." Winchell nodded, absolutely terrified. "Right! Okay. Thanks, guys!" He fished a few banknotes out of his pocket and handed them around. "Now, go round back to Chris Mustang's and she'll have the boys in the kitchen fry you up some steak and eggs and get you a couple of bottles of ale for breakfast."

The trio wandered off, giving off strange whistles as they walked. Other shadowy figures crawled out of hiding and joined them. "You see, Aunt Chris and Big Cock take care of the homeless folks out here," Ed informed his companion. "And in turn, if they hear or see any trouble, Big Cock and Aunt Chris are the first to hear about it—and what they know, Roy Mustang knows, and what Roy Mustang knows can get you into really hot water, lady." He rose and wiped the blood off his hands on the seat of his pants. "You got a mirror?" Wordlessly, she dug into her purse and handed the compact over. "Jeeze, that's impressive!" Ed whistled, accessing the damage. "I'd say that's a deviated septum for sure. What the fuck do you keep in that handbag, brass knuckles?" There were bruises on his face where the frames of his glasses had been driven against the skin. "Crap. Doctor Knox is gonna have fun fixing me up."

"What…what are you going to—"

"Was I going to hand you over to Big Cock? Lady, you don't deserve a Big Cock…ahahhaahaaa….shrggkkkkkptui!"" Ed spat out a mouthful of bloody snot. "I've got grounds for charges and a whole alleyfull of witnesses—plus you've got my blood on your handbag. I've got you dead to rights, Kelly Winchell."

She reached for her checkbook. "How much-?"

"Save it, lady. You can't buy me off. And you can't buy them off—" he gestured towards the retreating crowd of homeless, "—because trust me, Chris Mustang has more money than you'll EVER have. What I want-" he leaned in close. She held her breath. "—is Equivalent Exchange. No more. No less. That's going to take some evaluating. I need to see how bad the damage is. And I ain't talking about monetary value of fixing my glasses or my nose. Not to mention, I have to explain to the President how I got my face smashed up."

"You know damn well I didn't mean to—"

"Ah, but you meant to hit somebody, right? I mean, what the hell are you doing in this part of town at this hour of the morning?"

Winchell pressed her lips tightly together. It wouldn't do to have Elric know she was heading over to Dewey, Dickon, and Howe and Sons to raise hell with that awful Cameron Howe. 'I was waiting for the bookshops to open."

"Oh yeah? Speaking of books—" he grabbed the bloody purse and peered inside. "Damn. You've got—let's see—seven…eight-eight copies of Buckety-Buckety in your purse, lady. No wonder you broke my damn nose."

She had forgotten that she had found eight copies on the shelf at Bounders Books near the train station last night during a Blood and Fire book signing and bought them all, threatening the manager with dire consequences if he reordered any more copies. "I…I didn't mean—"

"—skip it, lady. Just skip it. Gimme your phone number."

"Why?"

'I said I needed to think about how you're gonna make this up to me—unless you'd rather I call the cops and have them chat with our…witnesses? No? Okay, hand it over."

She scribbled her number on the inside of a copy of Buckety-Buckety and shoved it at him.

Tucking his broken glasses into the pocket of his waistcoat, Ed offered the hack novelist a courtly little bow and walked away."

"Wait!" she shouted. "What are you going to do?"

"In order to obtain something desired," Edward recited cheerfully as he turned the corner, "something of equal value must be sacrificed…"

…TO BE CONTINUED…