Disclaimer in previous chapters. Please see Author's Notes at the end.

- x -

It was quite the party that entered the room, and none of them looked happy.

A giant of a man, possibly almost as big as Sig Curtis or the brigadier general, stepped through first, and dark, serious eyes flicked to him and his brother instantly. When neither of them did anything more threatening than stare, the hulking guard stepped to the side, allowing the Prime Minister, General Hakuro, and Dr. Patterson to enter the room. They were followed by another bodyguard, nearly as large as his counterpart.

Mustang glanced their way, then reached wearily into his pocket, fishing out his watch. He studied it a moment.

"Alphonse." His voice was guttural and painful-sounding. "There are a dozen lieutenants waiting in the lobby. When you're done here, take two of them. I want both the Tringums off detail for eight hours."

Al accepted the order with a nod. "Yessir." He likely added that for Hakuro's benefit; the general knew they had a special relationship with the Prime Minister, but technically Edward was still in the middle of a court martial for desertion charges after Lior. It wouldn't do to give the general a reason to go after Al, especially considering his addition to the National Alchemists had brought with it a military rank of Major.

Detail. So the alchemists were already going through the city, deconstructing every piece of transmuted matter down to its basic elements.

And hadn't Al said he was supposed to be out there too?

Edward glanced at Mustang, finding the man being guided by the young doctor towards the unoccupied bed in the room. He was a little surprised the Prime Minister, of all people, had not been given a private room, but as far as he could tell, Mustang wasn't even a patient. He'd cleaned himself up, complete with a starched and pressed uniform, and someone had dug up one of his spare eyepatches. He looked like he'd just walked off the Parliament floor on a hot summer day, and had forgotten to replace his jacket.

His jacket was probably still in the car, but surely he had a spare one of those, too. It was pretty warm, all things considered, so the lack of it was probably due to –

Probably due to the fact that the idiot had no business wandering around the hospital.

Whether he looked like a patient or not.

Patterson leaned in close, muttering to himself as Roy reluctantly arranged himself on the mattress, and Edward's attention was drawn back towards the front of the room when Hakuro spoke.

"Glad to see you're awake, Full Metal," he drawled. "I trust you're feeling better?"

Edward regarded the general for a long second. "I'll live." The only reason Hakuro would want to talk to him would be to ask him where the hell he'd been, since he probably didn't have the authority to interrogate the Prime Minister.

"I'd have already placed you under arrest for suspicion of kidnapping, but I'm fairly certain I'd be overruled."

Ed glanced over at Mustang, who appeared to be doing his best to ignore them. Patterson had removed Mustang's eyepatch, revealing how swollen and puffy the skin around his eye socket had become, and was gently examining it.

Roy also had some bruising, to that side of his face, but everything beneath it was covered by a starched white collar. Ed wasn't sure where Mustang had taken that last hit, but apparently his jaw had gotten in the way at some point. Still, if he was walking around, he was probably okay.

Ed returned his gaze to the general. "Kidnapping, huh? Why would I want to spend any more time with that bastard than I already do?"

Beside him, Al made a face. "Nii-san-"

Hakuro just raised an eyebrow. "It's amazing you ever learned manners, Alphonse, growing up with a role model like him." His voice was oddly . . . indulgent. "I understand you've been released?"

Al seemed slightly startled to be pulled into conversation, but he recovered quickly. "Yes. I'm fine, and there are so many other people who need medical attention-"

He trailed off when Dr. Patterson approached, glaring at the tall guards. "Two nurses will be entering the room momentarily with some equipment." He turned forty-five degrees to face Al. "And the only reason you were released, Elric," he continued without pause, "is because we needed the bed, and you insisted. You are most certainly not fine."

Ed glanced at his brother again, and Al pasted a goofy grin on his face, rubbing the back of his neck like he did when he was embarrassed. It soon turned into another massage, however, but as Ed sharpened his look he only got a half-hearted chuckle in response.

"How are you feeling, Edward?"

Ed continued staring down his brother, though he addressed his question to the doctor. "What happened to him?"

Patterson took a seat on the very edge of his mattress, pulling a stethoscope from beneath his wrinkled white coat. "Shallow lacerations of the neck and upper chest, depressed respiratory activity caused by oxygen deprivation, minor trauma associated with weight impact, a probable odontoid fracture, and something we're going to call minor alchemic rebound." He held the end of the stethoscope between his hands, warming it. "It's a miracle any of them survived. And on top of that, he donated a pint of blood. He should be at home, resting."

"I was resting here," Al protested. "Besides, I have work to do-"

"You were with the Tringums, right?"

Al heaved a huge sigh, but Ed didn't relax his glare, even as the doctor pressed the still-cool metal to his bared chest.

"Yes. When Craege got hold of the new amplifier, he tested it out on us." Al's eyes shifted to the right as he recalled it. "Johann had already used the foundation to trap us, so we couldn't transmute. Craege just took it a step further. He completely buried Fletcher and Russell, so they were protected when the reaction got out of hand." Al flashed him a weak grin. "He shifted too much of the foundation, and lost control of the reaction on top of it, so it's no wonder the building collapsed."

Edward blinked, momentarily nonplussed. The apartment building . . . the one the Tringums lived in. It was three stories, if he recalled properly, and the Tringums had the whole first floor –

"How did you get out?" He kept his voice calm and low, so as not to deafen the doctor listening to his chest. He could yell about it later; obviously the three of them survived it relatively unscathed. And it wasn't nearly as stupid as he had been.

Al seemed to relax a little bit. Obviously he'd been expecting his older brother to blow up. "Fletcher had nearly gotten his hands together before Johann trapped them. When Craege started spinning the rock around him, he got enough room to complete a circle. He dropped himself and Russ into the sewers beneath the building, which were still intact, and then started looking for me." Al winced a bit at the memory.

"Fletcher knocked himself out getting me out of the wreckage, and Russ transmuted the tunnel to the surface. By then we were pretty weak from all the feedback. All I could do was transmute Russ to the surface. One of the restoration crews had been over on Cobb, and they'd seen the building come down. Russ called out to a passerby, who went and got them. They happened to have the right equipment on hand to get us out."

One of the crews working on rebuilding the city from the Thule Invasion. Despite Al's guilt over the damage and loss of life, the crews on the whole seemed to appreciate his help, rather than blame him for the damages. They'd probably been more than happy to lend a hand.

"Was anyone else in the building?"

Al sobered. "Johann Irving. But we think he was dead before the building collapsed."

Ed closed his eyes, recalling what the weasel had said to him. Ditched him. Floored him. Hit the ceiling.

He'd all but told him he'd knocked the building down.

Patterson removed the stethoscope, frowning up at Al. "Are you feeling any discomfort in your chest?"

Al blinked at him, apparently considering it. "A little," he admitted. "Sort of like an ache. Only if I think about it."

Ed recalled feeling the same thing, though he couldn't tell if the slight pain he currently felt was related to the feedback or his broken rib.

"Is it sharp?"

Al shook his head. "I didn't really notice it until you asked."

Patterson frowned, then looked towards Edward. "You probably can't tell, thanks to that rib. But it doesn't seem to have punctured a lung. You're extremely lucky, Mr. Elric. Do you have any questions for me?"

He liked the way the doc phrased it. Clearly he was very aware Hakuro wasn't aware of the fake automail.

"A few," he replied. "I'd kinda like to ask without the audience, though." He looked pointedly at the general.

Hakuro was leaning on the wall, with his arms folded across his chest. "I'm afraid I have business with both you and the Prime Minister, and as you seem to be involved in his disappearance, logistically it's more secure to keep the both of you together." He smirked. "You seem fairly coherent, Full Metal. I have a few questions myself."

Ed closed his eyes, relaxing his head back on the pillows. That wasn't unexpected at all. "So what's the damage, doc?"

He heard Patterson sigh, and felt the mattress shift as the doctor stood. "One broken rib and two fractured, multiple lacerations, concussion, fever, and something we've classified as moderate alchemic rebound." There was the sound of a pen dancing across paper. "You had me worried when they first brought you in, but you should be back to teaching in two weeks."

"Two weeks?!" His eyes shot open to find Patterson eyeing him over the edge of the clipboard.

"If I thought your automail mechanic wouldn't flay me alive, I'd remove your leg to keep you in this bed," he muttered. "You're lucky to be alive, Edward."

Ed scowled, shrugging his left shoulder in an effort to feel the extent of the cuts to his back. They didn't really feel all that bad, and he wasn't even that nauseous. "I feel okay-"

Patterson gestured with the pen. "You have your brother to thank for that."

Ed glanced at Al again, who just shrugged.

Patterson correctly interpreted Ed's confusion. "Where do you think that pint of blood your brother donated went? Why else do you think we'd let him?" He continued grumbling as he dropped the clipboard back into its holder at the end of the bed, tucking his pen into his coat pocket. "You would have survived without it, but at the time we didn't know how deep the lacerations were. You were quite a sight, Mr. Elric."

He was getting tired of hearing that, and was about to point it out when he stopped himself. Maybe there was another reason Patterson kept stressing how lucky he was.

"How much pain are you in? Grade it on a scale of one to ten."

He glanced up at the small bag of medicine, more than half depleted, hanging beside him. Its label was hand-written and too far away to read. It wasn't making him especially drowsy, which he liked. "Two. What is this stuff?"

Patterson gave him a weary grin. "A little something I cooked up in medical school. I thought you'd like it."

There was a knock on the door, and the bodyguard nearest it manifested a handgun from nowhere, pulling the door open swiftly while standing behind it. The second guard moved to stand directly before the door, and he glared flatly at the two nurses standing in the hallway.

They were apparently familiar with these men, because rather than appear intimidated, the nurse that had knocked on the door simply walked in, stepping around the hulking guard like he was a piece of furniture. Her counterpart followed her, wheeling another IV stand containing a couple bags of fluid.

Utterly ignoring the giants, the nurses moved directly across the room, approaching the now prone Prime Minister. He didn't say anything as they bent to their work. Beside him, the doctor patted Ed's knee.

"Try to get some sleep. I'll check back with you in a few hours."

Ed nodded, watching Patterson turn to supervise the nurses. One of them was tilting Roy's chin up, holding a long dropper over what he knew to be an empty eye socket. The other was rolling up his dress shirt sleeve, obviously preparing to give him an injection or intravenous drugs.

Suddenly feeling as though he was witnessing something he shouldn't, Edward turned back to his brother. "Fletch and Russ are really okay?"

Al just nodded. "Yeah. They're fine." He smiled, a little sadly. "Can't say the same for their research . . ."

That was quite a loss, actually. Like all good researchers, a copy of their notes was periodically taken to the First Library for safe-keeping, but probably only bi-weekly. Whatever they'd last done to their amplifier was probably lost.

If Irving had thought that Bradley meant to combine their work . . . but the Tringums had been working on that base amplifier for months. The formula had changed pretty significantly as they'd applied what they knew from the Red Water research as well as chemistry. Was that the reason for the feedback it created? Would it have been a more perfect amplifier if they'd used Nash Tringum's formula without modification?

What had taken the old man so much longer to make? What had he made?

Of course, he knew the ingredients in the Tringums' amplifier. Technically, he supposed he could transmute those materials out of the white crystal, and whatever was left would obviously be the ingredients of the compound the old man had created –

"Al, did you say Havoc had the amplifier?"

Al was in the process of nodding when a sharp croak interrupted him. "Don't even think about it, Fullmetal."

Both the brothers looked back at Mustang. He wasn't facing them, and the first nurse was in the process of replacing the bandaging beneath his eyepatch. The second had already expertly run the needle into a blood vessel in his arm, and was currently adjusting the drip flow on the line.

"Someone's going to have to deconstruct it-" Surely Mustang wasn't thinking about keeping it? It was terribly dangerous; no alchemist should utilize an amplifier that cost so much to use, no matter how much it amplified their transmutations –

"No." His voice was extremely hoarse.

Edward kept a rein on his temper only because the general was still in the room. He was probably remaining in the hopes one of them, in a drugged state, was going to slip up. Despite feeling pretty clear-headed, Ed knew the drugs were working too well for that to be the case. Maybe he'd misheard, or phrased himself badly.

"That thing can't be left intact-"

"It can't be destroyed with alchemy." Roy finally turned to look at him, and his visible eye was flat. "It's already been attempted."

Something about the way he said it stilled Ed's next protest. Obviously the attempt was unsuccessful to the extreme, if Roy would make such a blanket statement.

"Who was it?"

"Bren Durrell," Hakuro supplied from his position on the far wall. "You really shouldn't speak further, Prime Minister, if you expect to address the country tomorrow."

Ed dropped his head back to his pillow, choosing to stare at the ceiling rather than Al. Bren was an older alchemist, specializing in mineral transmutation. Of course, as many of the older alchemists had been pressured to, his studies had been militarized, giving him the second name of 'Flint Alchemist.'

He was competent, and an excellent choice to analyze the materials of a crystal and transmute them accordingly.

"Did he survive the attempt?"

Hakuro gave Edward a measuring look, but it was Patterson that replied. "No. He collapsed almost immediately. Military paramedics tried to resuscitate him for twenty minutes without success." The doctor looked directly at Alphonse. "The second that pain in your chest worsens, I want you to stop whatever you're doing, and return here immediately."

He was standing at the foot of Mustang's bed, and backed up to let the two nurses by. "The same goes for the Tringums. When you find them, make sure to ask them. If either of them complains of it, bring them directly here."

Al nodded, already rising to his feet. "I'll do it now."

Edward was momentarily distracted as the first nurse walked directly up to the bodyguard that had barred her way. She stood on tiptoe, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "Be safe, sweetie," she murmured, and she and her colleague then proceeded out the door.

Slightly bemused, Ed watched the other bodyguard close the door, and the man that had been the recipient of the kiss glared at him, as if daring him to say anything. Al distracted him by lightly patting his armored arm.

"I'll be back. Try to get some sleep."

Ed just nodded, watching his brother cross the room. He was allowed to leave as well, with a last glance over his shoulder, and once again the door was securely closed.

"How long?"

The rasp was obviously Mustang, and Ed glanced over again before he realized Roy wasn't talking to him.

"About three hours," the doctor informed him, returning to the foot of his bed. "Normally we'd give you this cocktail over the course of five, but I didn't figure you'd be patient for that long."

Roy was propped up against the pillows, laying atop the sheets with his feet crossed at the ankles. He didn't appear to be particularly relaxed, and Ed wondered when the man had last gotten sleep. Probably not since he'd been knocked out in the fight with the weasel.

"I'm overruling your ban on pain management," Patterson continued, in a voice that was attempting to brook no argument. "What you're feeling now is nothing compared to how bad it'll burn in an hour."

Roy was uncharacteristically silent. Possibly resigned. The doctor looked faintly surprised. "I understand you still have business with the general, so I'll leave you for half an hour. After that, you will be receiving a mild narcotic, and all official business will be legally ceased until I have declared you fit for duty."

Patterson glanced towards Hakuro, who eventually acknowledged the declaration with a nod. "We should be finished by then," he agreed grudgingly. "Can you give him anything for his voice?"

The doctor frowned. "Not anything more than we already have. The less you make him talk, the better off he'll be." He glanced back towards his patient, but the Prime Minister had closed his eye.

"A half-hour," he repeated. As if he couldn't quite believe Mustang was actually accepting the time limit. When he received no protest, he gave the general a curt nod, and met Ed's gaze.

"When we have the space, I'll transfer you to a private room to better answer your questions."

Edward just nodded, watching the man check his pockets for his pen. All too soon, one of the hulking guards was closing the door after the doctor. Ed closed his eyes, counting the seconds until -

"Now that unnecessary personnel has left," the general spoke into the silence, "I believe it would be prudent for me to take your statement, Full Metal."

He wondered what would happen if he feigned sleep.

Probably nothing good.

"Let him sleep." As distorted as his voice was, it was sharp.

"You should save your voice," the general reminded him, almost silkily. "You have a radio address to make in the morning. Those assassins could be halfway out of the country by now, and unless I misunderstood you earlier, you were encouraging a full investigation."

Something about the way he said it set off little alarm bells in Ed's head, and he opened his eyes. "It's fine. Let's just get it out of the way." Obviously Hakuro couldn't question Mustang, so he really shouldn't actually know anything.

Of course, he wasn't really sure how much Mustang wanted him to tell the general. Or how much of it he wanted anyone to know.

Probably nothing.

He could almost hear Mustang hesitating into the silence, and he sighed. "Where do you want me to start? And shouldn't there be an officer in here, writing the dictation?" Maybe he could get the general out of the room, even for a minute, so they could get their story straight?

"Just an overview for now." Hakuro's voice had returned to its usual business-like tones.

So much for agreeing on a story.

Ed briefly closed his eyes again, trying to detect how much the drugs were affecting his thought processes. Hakuro would latch onto the smallest mistake. He'd been slightly more bearable since Mustang had taken the position of Prime Minister, but not much. He still seemed to have a very specific grudge against him, and Ed hadn't yet wasted the time to wonder why. Maybe the desertion, all those years ago? He'd really never been the same since Havoc pretended to be Mustang, and out-maneuvered Hakuro's forces for quite some time during the Northern Rebellion.

"It can wait."

Ed picked up his head, turning to look at Mustang. The other man was staring directly at the general. He was also holding his left arm with his right, as though it was paining him.

The intravenous 'cocktail,' as Patterson had called it. He'd said the burn would get worse, so that must be what he'd been referring to.

Hakuro really did have them where he wanted them. Mustang was exhausted and in pain, and he was probably drugged out of his mind. They made a great pair.

"It's fine," Ed repeated, a little flatly. "He's going to find out anyway."

As expected, the general's eyes flicked back to him, and Ed arranged a scowl on his face.

"Any chance this can be off the record?"

The general gave him a considering look. "I guess that will depend on what you have to say."

"Fullmetal –"

"It's not like it matters anymore," he interrupted, before Roy could say anything else. "The weasel's dead. I suppose his remains are still a problem, but he's much less of a threat if he's an inanimate lump."

Mustang just stared at him, and Ed broke eye contact to focus on the general. He was pretty sure he could explain away both the apparent 'assassination' attempt and the Irvings, he just needed to concentrate, and he needed Mustang to shut up and trust him. The latter was probably unlikely.

"You're referring to Irving?"

Ed glared. "How did anyone figure out who they were, anyway?" The first thing he needed to figure out was whether Hakuro had found the letter, since it had probably been in Mustang's jacket pocket when they'd left the car to deal with the younger Irving.

"Russell Tringum identified Johann Irving," Hakuro responded. "Records were pulled that led us to believe the other alchemist was his son. Is that not the case?"

Of course. The old man had probably introduced himself and asked Russell for the notes before he'd attacked them, considering Nash was supposedly a 'childhood friend.' He still wasn't happy that he'd pinned them, but at least it hadn't been the old man that had tried to kill them –

And if Hakuro had the letter, surely he'd have mentioned the address on it had also matched the last known residence of the missing Fusing Alchemist.

"It's correct." He heaved an exaggerated sigh. "He'd been applying to the Academy for the past month. Probably without his old man's knowledge. Originally I didn't accept him because he'd never applied for the State Alchemists' exam, so we didn't have any way to measure his competency. He took issue." Ed paused, letting his expression darken. "I didn't expect him to be powerful enough to carry out his threats."

"What does this have to do with your disappearance this morning?" He'd actually expected a sarcastic remark, and Ed found he was almost disappointed that his 'debrief' wasn't about to devolve into an argument.

"It's not Academy policy to extend invitations to uncertified alchemists. Part of the party line, to continue bolstering the ranks." He glared at Mustang, who was just staring at him with a rather blank expression. "A party line I disagreed with, I might add."

Roy gave him a dark look, but didn't say anything. Content to let him continue?

"This morning the Prime Minister decided to assist in one of my classes, and I had a lapse of judgment and asked for his advice." Less than twenty-four hours ago. It seemed like a lifetime. "The little weasel was obviously unhinged, but he was the son of a fairly renowned alchemist. I thought there was a chance he might visit Central personally and cause a scene."

"Why would you leave Academy grounds to have that discussion?"

Ah, that was a good question. Why . . ? "The last letter he sent insinuated he'd transmuted a Philosopher's Stone." It wasn't as if that rumor wasn't going to spread anyway, considering the damage to the city. "I wanted to make sure the one I used to restore Al had been completely consumed." He sent another look across the room, making it purposely look reluctant. "I figured if a piece of it had survived, Mustang would know about it. It wasn't a conversation I wanted to have in a building full of alchemists."

Hakuro digested that a moment. "Are you finally admitting to transmuting a Philosopher's Stone at Lior?"

Ed didn't let his expression change. Trust Hakuro to try to make it look like he'd killed his own soldiers. Technically Scar had been the one to transmute it, and sticking to the truth in this case wasn't going to hurt anything. "No. Scar made that array, and Scar transmuted that Stone. I am admitting that I used it." He paused. "Apparently all of it. If it wasn't fully consumed during the transmutation to restore Al's body, neither of us know where any remainder might be."

Hakuro was silent for a long moment. "Why did you take separate vehicles?"

Ed blinked, staring at the general. " . . . we didn't. I drove. I figured we had less of a chance of being overheard if we were moving." Then he let a look of sudden understanding cross his face. "Of course," he muttered, as if to himself. "That's how the bastards managed to find us so quickly." He refocused on the general. "We noticed a Parliament car was tailing us, but we figured it was Mustang's men. It was Mustang's car, wasn't it."

"It was found near the publishing house." The general didn't sound like he was convinced. "What happened after you left Academy grounds?"

"The drug hit." He frowned. "I don't know what it was on. Something we touched." He wiggled the fingers on his armored hand, careful not to let the pain show. "I guess I didn't get enough of it on my left hand to kill me. We figured it must have been something Roy handled when he was wearing his ignition gloves, during the class. He probably absorbed some when he removed the gloves."

His lie was going surprisingly well. What else . . . oh. Hakuro hadn't been in the room when he'd asked Al about Hawkeye, so he shouldn't say he knew she'd been sickened as well. He also hadn't been in the room when Al had said that Johann showed up to combine his compound with the Tringums' amplifier, but obviously Russell had already been questioned . . . what would Russ have told them?

"When I came around, we were chained up in a basement. Not far from the publishing house, actually." He rotated his left wrist, just to ensure the general noted the shallow cuts. "I missed most of the party, but I do remember they came through to gloat. Said it was better we'd survived, that they'd bear Mustang's body before the invading army. The usual crap."

His mouth was getting carried away with him. "Unfortunately, they knew what they were doing," he grumbled. "Between the drug and the bonds, neither one of us could transmute. Mustang heard them leave the house, probably to ditch his car." He made a face. "I was still pretty much useless at that point, so Mustang yelled for help until someone heard him."

Ed shifted to ease a sudden cramp in his back, surprised the general hadn't interrupted again. He figured the rest of the story was self-explanatory. "By the time we got out of there, Craege had trashed half the city. My car was still there, so we took off in the direction of the fighting."

"Describe the men that held you."

Hmm, time to make up bad guys. The last few assassination attempts had looked like the Drachmans, so they were probably a safe bet. "Don't remember much. Medium build, pale, dark eyes. Pretty heavy Drachman accents." He frowned, and glanced again at Mustang, this time inviting him into the conversation. "A little too heavy."

Mustang just nodded wearily. "I agree."

Nice. He hadn't contradicted anything Roy had already said.

"Did you know Craege Irving was going to be in the city?"

Ed shook his head. "No. He was pretty vague with the threats. I figured we had more time."

"Do you know why his father was here?"

Ed just shook his head. "No. Al told me he stopped by the Tringums, and was asking about Nash Tringums' research. I guess Craege saw an opening."

Hakuro cocked his head. "Where are the letters?"

Hmm. He supposed he could write up a few quickly, if he could think of a reason to put them someplace Hakuro didn't have immediate access to . . .

Oh. But he'd supposedly been asking Mustang's advice on them. Shit. "In the car."

Of course, they weren't going to find them in the car . . . maybe he could claim the assassins had taken them. What he needed to do now was think of an object that they would have taken with them, so –

No, he didn't. All he had to do was think of an item only he, the Prime Minister, and Hawkeye would have touched. Something that got cleaned often, too, so the poison wouldn't be there anymore . . . maybe they could claim it became inert after it dried? What would have been something only Roy would have touched . .?

"I didn't have any new students in that class." Maybe he could send the general off on a wild goose chase? "And I didn't recognize either of the other guys, but they'd have almost had to have had inside help."

He'd let Hakuro try to figure out what they'd touched. Of course, it meant that Hawkeye had to keep quiet about the letter, but assuming she'd made the same leap Mustang had, and figured it had to do with a Philosopher's Stone, she was unlikely to mention it. He'd need to ditch the general at some point, though, and telephone the house. Since the Tringums' living quarters were destroyed, knowing Al, he'd take them to their home to make sure they slept. The three of them could get their stories straight before any further investigation.

Except for the stop the Irvings had made at the Tringums', they were fairly uninvolved. And Mustang had heard everything he'd just said, so as long as Hawkeye and Al didn't contradict the weasel angle, they were probably home free –

Then again, home free was relative. Lying about the letter didn't change any of the consequences. There was an amplifier that was highly dangerous, and could not be destroyed. The city was probably in chaos, considering they truly believed the assassination attempt story. For all intents and purposes, it was almost true. Craege would have killed Mustang with that last attack, he was certain of it.

And he would have died himself, if Armstrong hadn't come back for them. If Fuery and Breda hadn't been with him. If a doctor hadn't treated him.

Congratulating himself for a coherent lie. What the hell was he thinking?

"Anything you'd like to add, Full Metal?"

Hakuro was probably going to take the human transmutation admittance and run with it, but then again, it was the only thing Ed could think of that would explain why Mustang would have been reluctant to give him the information he wanted. Roy was famous for protecting his subordinates –

Which begged the question of why he'd sent the Tringums on cleanup detail when two of his men were dying a few doors down.

"Nothing relevant." He rearranged his scowl. "What's going to be done with the amplifier?"

"Nothing." It came from Mustang. It was impossible to tell from his voice how he felt about that. "It will be kept in a safe place until more pressing matters have been dealt with."

Hakuro gave Ed one last look. "I don't see any reason to keep your statement off the record. It's already been widely accepted that you've continuously dabbled in taboo alchemy without consequence since you were ten years old." His expression was stern, rather than triumphant. "However, you might consider stating the information pertaining to the Prime Minister's involvement in possible Stones more carefully tomorrow during your debriefing."

Ed tried not to gape at him. Had he just asked him to lie in the debriefing . . . to protect Mustang?

Of course, the debrief would be on record, and if there was someone on the inside trying to assassinate Mustang, he supposed they could use a Stone rumor to lure him into some kind of trap . . . much like Irving had unwittingly done.

That actually wasn't a bad plan. It would probably work. Obviously Mustang didn't trust him to handle possible Stones if they cropped up . . . but maybe the results of not trusting his subordinates would drive home the point that he should.

Hakuro ignored his stunned look, and turned back to Mustang. "I apologize for pressing the issue earlier," he said curtly. "Do you feel you need to review troop deployment throughout the city?"

Mustang just shook his head. His lips were pulled thin.

That stuff was bothering him more than he was letting on. Either that, or he was very, very angry.

"I will notify your physician that we're done here."

"Don't let Patterson lock you out." His voice was still grating. "Update me every hour, even if you have to wake me."

Clearly Mustang wasn't going to trust Hakuro to run the show. Although, it didn't seem like there was much Roy could really do at this point. The alchemists that could transmute had probably already been given orders, the general wasn't completely inept and could be trusted to keep order, at least for the evening, and Parliament wasn't going to reconvene for hours. If Mustang wanted him to change his tune, they could discuss it long before he had an official debriefing. There was no real reason for the man to deny himself some well-earned rest.

Hakuro bowed, then headed for the door.

"Try to get some rest, Prime Minister. Full Metal."

The two bodyguards allowed him to leave, closing it behind him.

- x -

Author's Notes: The next chapter is a direct continuation of this one. It was getting too long, so I had to break it up into two parts. Expect it to be posted soon!