I am sincerely sorry for the long, long wait between chapters. I should be better at getting this posted, it's been done for so long. Thank you to everyone who has been really patient with me and are still reading this.

Passing of Information

The Present

Wincing as the train whistle wailed, Hughes took a step forward on the platform to better see into the open car window where Ed and Al sat. He smiled, even as the red handprint across Ed's cheek turned several shades brighter red. "Boy, she really did smack you." Then a little softer after the whistle had passed, "Although, I can't said I don't blame her."

Ed flushed and pressed a gloved hand over his cheek where Hawkeye had smacked him. He just wanted to pretend nothing had happened but the sting of tender flesh in the shape of a handprint told him he was not going to forget so easy. He should really learn to think before speaking. Of course, he had that internal conversation with himself almost weekly and had yet to learn. "Yeah, I guess, maybe I deserved it."

The whistle blew again as the clatter of links between the train cars pulled taught, echoed through the station. Hughes stepped back as the train started to slowly move.

Quickly sticking his head out the window, Ed asked, "Are you sure you can't talk the Colonel into changing his mind? You don't even know where to begin looking for her."

The car started to pull away from the platform and Hughes walked alongside the window. "I think we know where to start looking."

"You do?" Al asked from inside.

"You saved us a lot of time connecting the missing woman and child to Rhodes. It would be just like her to be hiding down the street in that abandoned temple."

"Abandoned temple," Ed repeated.

"Did I say that? I meant—"

Ed smiled. He did not buy Hughes' suddenly innocent backtracking. "Thank you, Lt. Colonel," he called out, "for seeing us off. I'm sure that'll please Mustang." He saluted and ducked back into the car.

"Be careful!" Hughes called out as he stopped walking but offered a wave as the car traveled on.

"Oh, we will," the youth said as he sank to the seat across from his brother.

"I don't like that look," Al said.

Shooting the younger a sharp glare, Ed's expression then quickly softened. "The old temple not to far from the noodle stand. That's where we are going."

"But, Brother—"

Ed stood up and quickly glanced around. "We need to get off the train now. Come on!"

Silence

There was a disturbed feeling lingering about the staffroom. Havoc could not quite put a finger on it, but it left him feeling decidedly unsettled. He shifted in his chair, but it did nothing to ease that illusive feeling. "Damn, it's quiet." Looking back toward the door to the Colonel's office, he wondered aloud, "Do you think he fell asleep?"

"With that stack of paperwork Hawkeye left him?" Falman asked.

"He's asleep." Havoc dug out a pack of cigarettes and his lighter and let them fall to the desktop. "Hell, I'm half asleep," he grumbled as he rubbed scratchy eyes. Fishing out a single cigarette, he pressed it to his lower lip and then e stole a quick glance toward the clock. "Breda's been gone awhile."

Falman, who had been filing papers stopped and looked at the clock too. "Maybe I should call over to the hospital, see if he's still there."

"Wouldn't be a bad idea."

The door to Mustang's office opened. The Colonel just stood there, looking about the room. "Where is everyone?" he gruffly asked as he approached the desks. His good hand pressed to the edge as if for support.

Quick to respond, Falman said, "Fury and Breda are out and I am unsure where the First Lieutenant is."

Havoc inwardly sighed, glad that the ever-studious Warrant Officer did not give away Fury's unknown location. Last thing he wanted was the Colonel to be thinking about a missing man. Fury could be asleep on a bench in the hospital for all anyone knew, he doubted the little guy could have gotten much more sleep than anyone else had. Pushing his chair back as he stood, he asked, "You want I should bring the car around, chief?""

A weary nod was the only answer.

"Yes, sir." Havoc started toward the door but remembered his cigarette pack and reached for it. Snatching it off the smooth wooden surface, he paused and stared at the table. Shaking his head, he pocketed the cigarettes and headed for the door.

Curious Notes

The Past

"Sir?"

"Doctor," Marcoh corrected as he shuffled through an unwieldy pile of papers. "Major if you must, but I prefer doctor."

Mustang looked at the somewhat disheveled looking man. The image before him was hardly what he had expected of the noted Crystal Alchemist. "Yes, sir, Doctor Marcoh."

The man laughed as he grabbed a few sheets and picked up a several loose items before roughly shoving them into a medical bag. "I see, as usual, Grand is in a hurry."

The young officer said nothing, possessing no answer to Marcoh's comment. He glanced about the office and realized it looked about like the doctor—disheveled. Papers were everywhere. Books lay open, stacked in piles and were in general disarray. He wondered how the man could find anything at all.

Near his feet, he spied an old alchemic book lying open face down on the floor. Kneeling down, he picked up the ragged tome, a generalization on the principles of alchemy, and looked it over. The lettering was printed in a bold, block text on thin, deeply yellowed paper. Red pencil marks underlined phrases and arrows pointed to notes crudely scrawled in the margins.

One underlined passage caught Mustang's attention.

All things are poison and nothing is without poison; only the dose makes that a thing is not poison.

He flipped through a few pages, looking for more underlined passages but instead paused at a curious notation in the margin.

Hohenheim Elric. Theory of human trans…

The lettering faded out but it was more than enough for him to know. He had heard that name before. Even his teacher had mentioned it a time or two, but was dismissive of the man for his arrogance. Abuse of power, he seemed to remember his teachers exact words being. His teacher had little use for men who would use their power selfishly.

"It's just been one of those days," Marcoh said as he pulled the book from Mustang's hold and quickly closed it. "I've just been so busy, I can't even bother picking up an old reference text that has fallen on the floor." He looked down at the dusty floor and scuffed at the surface. "Place needs cleaned," he absently noted as he carried the book to the desk and slipped it into a narrow drawer, which he proceeded to lock. From atop the cluttered desk, he grabbed a black briefcase and the bag he had been filling.

With a heavy sigh, Marcoh announced, "I guess I am as ready as I'll ever be."

Mustang nodded and led the way to the door. He knew whatever was in that case was very important and the reason he had been sent to escort the Crystal Alchemist to camp headquarters.

Behind him, Marcoh hesitated and then whispered, "And now I will no longer be the only one damned."