Okay, I know, really long gap between my last update. I'm so sorry. I just moved into boarding school and I don't think I'm gonna have any more time than I used to, so expect reaaaalllly slow updates. I'd like to finish this, though. I'll give it my best.
Thanks for reviewing, Illuminating-Darkness, My-name-is-foxglove, Wolfborg007, ssadropout. You guys are seriously the best.
I finally got this done. I hope it's good enough to read.
Chapter Six
"He took his career in a different direction. He now seems to think it's amusing to ridicule the military he used to serve."
"For God's sake, Jane, will you let go of the paper for just a minute?"
Jane was jerked back into reality when she heard Tom's raised voice. Blinking, for her eyes hurt from reading the tiny print for so long, she looked up at Tom, who was leaning on the counter opposite of her.
"I know you work at the company and all, but can you at least listen when I talk?"
Krowehill scowled. "That's not it! It's just that..."
"What, something interesting in the news nowadays?" Tom shrugged. "I don't bother reading it... What I've been hearing from my customers is quite enough."
"You're eavesdropping?"
"No! I'm not allowed to have a little conversation?"
Jane rolled her eyes and put the newspaper down on the counter. Tom craned his neck forward to see it.
"Roy Mustang? The criminal?" He inquired, taking a draught from a mug of coffee. "He's the one that coated my place with soot, ain't he?"
"Don't act as if you don't know, Tom." Krowehill tried not to sound too harsh, but the Mustang incident was something she could never forget. "He's still on the run, apparently..." She said in a soft voice.
Tom raised his eyebrows. "Why the heck're you so interested in the guy, anyways? You don't seem to talk about anything else. I thought you said that you had no connection to him. Isn't that what you told the police?" His eyes narrowed. "You didn't lie to them, did you?"
"I... well..." Jane blushed a deep red. She couldn't meet his eyes.
"Are you kidding, Jane? Lying to the police? That's bold. But why'd you do that? And just what were you doing with a wanted man, anyway? You said you didn't know who he was before they came..."
"... I lied..."
"Ah."
"He told me who he was - "
"- but you didn't turn him in?"
"No."
"Why not? You could get into trouble for something that..."
"He seemed like a good person. I didn't want him to get caught." Jane looked down at the paper. A long article speculating Mustang's current location and next move took up the entire front page. Tom stared at it also.
"Sometimes I wish you weren't so naive, Jane. Someday you'll get into really big trouble."
Jane shrugged and frowned. She tried not to show the anxiety she was feeling inside. She wondered where Mustang was. What was he doing right now? The paper didn't know anything. No one knew anything. Jane hated being kept in the dark. But this Mustang was as elusive as a fox. He'd just vanished, just like how he'd shown up out of nowhere, and changed the way Jane saw the world forever.
They'd gone to the hospital a few hours ago, for health checks and for Fuery. Everyone had been lacking proper food for a long time; the doctors ordered them to not overwork themselves for a while and eat good meals. Luckily none of them had any severe frostbite, or anything of the sort; Fuery, the doctors said, would be perfectly fine with a few days' good rest. Falman agreed to stay with Fuery so that Riza and the others could go make their report to a higher-ranked officer.
Riza, Havoc and Breda stood in stiff salute, facing the fat general, called Eglinton, who, for some reason, looked absolutely pale.
Riza felt a strange forboding in her. "Sir? This is Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye reporting." She hesitated. "We were a part of Colonel Roy Mustang's squad. We have been held captive for the past six months in the north; all of us are alive and well save Kain Fuery, who has a fever and is in the military hospital -"
"You - you're not dead." The general stuttered. "You're supposed to be dead. All of you."
Riza froze, her hand still at her brow. Havoc and Breda - their mouthes were hanging open. "U-us? We're fine, sir, see?" Havoc said lamely into the silence.
Eglinton put his hand over his face. "They told us that there was no trace of you five. We even had your funerals, damn it!"
Riza's heart was beating fast. "Sir. What about Colonel Mustang? Did he return? Is he all right?"
The general stared at her, looking decidedly even more panicked than before. "God. You don't know?" His voice was husky.
"No, sir." Riza swallowed. "We just got back from the north... What... what exactly are you talking about, General?"
Breda spoke, hesitantly, fearfully. "Is... is he dead?"
The general paused, as if debating on whether to answer or not. In the end, he said, "No."
Riza breathed out in a deep sigh. Breda and Havoc already had happy grins spreading across their faces. For a moment they forgot the fact that they'd all been thought dead for the past six months.
"He... he also quit the military."
Their brief relief evaporated.
"Pardon me, sir?" Riza could have laughed, for the notion of Roy abandoning his beloved military was so impossible, so ridiculous. Breda and Havoc had their smiles half-frozen to their faces. Riza looked desperately at Eglinton, hoping that he was just joking.
"I'm afraid so. He... took his... career in a different direction." The general was rummaging around in his desk. He pulled something out - a newspaper - and handed it to Riza. "He now seems to think it's amusing to ridicule the military he used to serve."
Not really wanting to see, Riza accepted the paper with a shaking hand. It was dated March - it was around the time they'd been taken prisoner in their mission. Dread clutching at her gut, she scanned the front page.
The headline seemed to scream at her. "Former Soldier Turned Criminal: Colonel Roy Mustang". Riza barely took in what she read. It chronicled all that was known on Colonel Mustang, who, after the spectacular failure of a mission, returned alone and injured; as soon as he recovered he'd torched an entire row of warehouses... The general was saying something to her. His words flowed past Riza's ears like running water. She could barely breathe.
This wasn't true. It couldn't be. It wasn't.
"Lieutenant...?" Havoc asked tentatively. Riza managed to shake her head and hand the newspaper to him. Leaving him and Breda to discover its horrors, she turned back to the general, who was massaging his temples.
"Sir..." Her voice came out very hoarse. "How... Why..."
He looked at her. Then, infuriatingly, he just shrugged. "I don't know. No one does. The failure was too much for him to take, probably. I can't think of any other reason." Complete indifference was obvious in his face.
A sudden anger flared inside Riza at that. Failure? No. That wasn't it. Roy was no fool, and knew that he couldn't succeed in everything he attempted - he knew his limits. He was aware that he was a human being. The mission alone couldn't have driven Roy to abandon his post in the military; Riza was sure of it. Something... something more terrible, more shocking, must have happened, she told herself. It isn't like Roy to make such a drastic move; the military was his life. He wouldn't quit unless he had a very good reason to.
Riza was forgetting that everyone, everyone had thought she was dead, along with her four comrades.
"There must've been some sort of mistake." Havoc said, his eyes hard, unlike his usual self. His voice rose into a shout. "This is all a big fucking mistake!"
"Havoc, shut up!" Breda hissed, but Eglinton just sighed.
"I didn't know Mustang had such insolent men under his command. Perhaps it's not so surprising - he wasn't such a... polite officer himself." Riza glared at Havoc, making him supress his choked cry of anger. It didn't mean she was feeling so content herself. "I'll have to place you five under Lieutenant Colonel Jones - he happens to need a new squad."
"A new commanding officer?" Breda was about to protest. "But - sir - "
The general looked at them. "Is there a problem?"
"No, sir." Riza said quickly, and saluted. Havoc and Breda followed suit, but Riza could easily see that they were both glowering. As they exited the room, Havoc took out a cigarette and lit it, clamping it down tightly between his teeth. It wouldn't have been odd at all if the smoke was wafting up from his ears.
"The bastard. He didn't give a damn about the Colonel, did he?" Havoc growled, turning to burn holes in the closed door behind him with his eyes. "Not a polite officer? He should speak for himself!"
Breda was agreeing with him, but Riza's mind was elsewhere. The Colonel... was gone? From the military? She still couldn't decided whether it was true or not. Sure, there was the newspaper, but papers often got facts wrong... And she hadn't known the higher-ranked officers to be such... honest people. Riza desperately wanted to convince herself that everything was a misunderstanding. It wasn't working very well.
Deep in thought, she walked straight into Havoc and Breda, who had both stopped in their tracks. "What is it?" She snapped. "I'm not in the mood for your joking around." They were in the front foyer of the building, where there were several bulletin boards for posting various posters and notes for the soldiers. They'd stopped right in front of the largest one. "What is it?" Riza asked again when there was no reply from neither Havoc or Breda.
Havoc was pointing with a shaking finger at a piece of paper that had been stuck up with tape. Riza looked.
It was a 'wanted' poster. There was no photograph. Riza saw the name at the top clearly, far too clearly. 'Roy Mustang'. Feeling herself tremble, she forced herself to read on. Wanted for arson, damage of government property and theft. Medium height and build, dark hair and eyes. Can be identified by a missing finger on the right hand. Details unknown. If found contact officials immediately. Reward - 100,000 cenz. 100,000 cenz... That was a lot of money. And what was that about the hand? Riza's mind was reeling. Arson... damage of property... theft... No. Just... no.
"What the hell's Colonel Mustang been up to, anyways?" Breda murmured to no one in particular.
No one could answer him.
Roy stared at himself in the mirror. He sighed, for he'd definately gotten thinner over the last few days. Which was obvious - he hadn't eaten a single proper meal since the cafe incident, because he couldn't go out, and his stomach didn't seem to be able to take much, either. He felt weak from lack of food - he decided to go for a meal and a good drink. His wound had scabbed over enough for him to move around. Picking up his coat, hat, and pack, he went down the stairs and checked out of he inn. Using the long hours of resting in bed, he'd thought everything over. He wouldn't pay the rent. He wouldn't return.
It was a warm autumn night. There were many wealthy-looking people walking around, obviously going for an expensive dinner or something of the sort. Roy kept that in mind. Maybe he'd swipe a few purses and wallets. He knew he only had enough cash left for two more decent meals at the most. His injury had cost him deeply.
He found a restaurant that didn't seem too pricey. He ordered a steak and salad. Mechanically, he ate, feeling the food nourish him, not caring much for the texture or taste of the tough and overcooked meat. Roy had learned a long time ago that food for a soldier was nothing but an energizer. Eat what is given to you. Eat whenever you can. Mealtimes were no longer anything of enjoyment to Roy. It was more like a short period of quiet time to think, brood and plan. He was still hungry after he paid the bill, but no longer felt as if his head was swimming in the clouds. That was good enough for now.
And then his now-natural urge to steal something came rushing back to him. Roy told himself he was in no condition to do so and supressed the desire to pickpocket. But when he saw a fat, snobbish lady carrying an equally plump purse, casting scornful looks at some shabbily-dressed boys sitting on the curb, Roy could no longer resist. He had to steal from her. Teach her a lesson. Teach her that she might not be as lucky as she might think she is right now.
He pulled off his ordinary white gloves, and drew out his alchemic ones. As he liked to think of them, 'work gloves'.
Roy Mustang was rising again.
TBC - reviews make it happen...
