Disclaimer in previous chapters. Please see Author's Notes at the end.
- x -
They were halfway there before he realized he'd forgotten to finish the letter.
Startling the lieutenant beside him slightly, his hand shot into his inner vest pocket, withdrawing the crisply folded paper. It had been separated into three equal, perfect sections, and while it would have taken him some time to so precisely duplicate it, he was certain it had been automatic, swift, and without thought on her part.
But then, he supposed he was the same way, at least when it came to arrays. He could probably draw three perfect circles in fewer seconds blindfolded, when most people couldn't even draw one. They were both very proficient at their work.
His brain hung onto that thought uneasily as he unfolded the letter and continued where he'd left off.
It's just that she's so stubborn! You know granny. I asked Ed for contact information for Dr. Patterson, so I expect he'll be sending that shortly. It isn't as if you guys often call (not even you!) so I'm afraid she'd get suspicious if either of you suddenly rang us up. It's been weeks, it isn't like another day for the mail to get here from Central is going to make that significant a difference.
And I know you're sensing the 'but' . . .
I sort of need to ask a little favor.
Al smiled at the letter. Little favor? Hopefully she'd left that phrase out of the letter to nii-san.
Okay, it's pretty big. If I can't get granny to agree to be seen, is there any chance you can come talk to her? She won't listen to me, and Ed would just make things worse – don't tell him I said that. She always listens to you. Even if there's no way to arrange having her seen by a doctor here, is there any way you could take a couple days and try to convince her to come back with you to Central?
He wished he knew the answer to that. Unthinkingly, Al glanced back at the lieutenant, who had politely averted his eyes the moment he'd realized the letter was personal.
It was hard to tell if he was going to get a few days off in the near future. While it wouldn't be the first time he was pulled out of class because he was needed elsewhere, this was the first time he could recall that an escort had been sent to fetch him. It wasn't as if Al didn't have access to a vehicle, or even that he wouldn't know where he was going.
He was going to the Capitol Building. His presence was apparently required by the Prime Minister.
And he knew damn well where Mustang's offices were. And Mustang knew that.
So the military escort seemed just a little weird. Weird in a way that made his brain return to the concept of being proficient at his work.
Mustang wouldn't have bothered with this fuss unless the fuss itself was the point. He was very publicly summoning Al, interrupting his class, making sure there were multiple witnesses and a production. This pointed to something official, more official than even an assignment or mission. Mustang had full control of the State Alchemists, so it wasn't as if he'd need to justify anything he ordered an alchemist to do to Parliament or the military.
And the lieutenant, though polite, was utterly unhelpful. An immediate audience with the Prime Minister, you will not be returning for the rest of the class, we've notified a replacement, won't you follow me sir? Clearly the officer was used to herding reluctant officials.
Which could mean he was being pulled into a meeting with Hakuro, rather than Mustang.
Then again, why lie? Since Alphonse Elric was a major in the Amestrian military, he supposed Hakuro had nearly as much clout over him as Mustang did. Hakuro might not have had the authority to pull him out of class, but he could order a meeting without making it up.
All this was leading to something happening. Something important.
And if something important was happening, he would expect not to be the only Elric in the car.
Perhaps the escort was to ensure that Ed was unaware? Which was even sillier, considering he'd tell his brother the second he got back to the Academy anyway. Particularly if this pertained to anything important.
Unless it pertained to something important in relation to Ed?
Al glanced back down at the letter, trying to ignore his brain's guessing games.
I understand if you're busy, I know it's short notice. I should have done something last week, I just thought - I don't know what I thought. That she was fine. That she wasn't old, I guess. I'm worried about her, Al. I'm sorry to just burden you with this all of a sudden. I'm just scared she's not going to get better on her own.
Al pressed his lips together softly. Even if she'd just told him explicitly not to call, what did she expect after that? Pinako was a formidable woman, and she'd passed that on – along with her stubbornness – to Winry. For her to so freely admit to that sort of worry meant that Aunt Pinako was worse than just limping.
It meant the old automail magician was really hurt.
And no matter how watered down her letter to Ed, he was going to pick up on that as well. There was no doubt in his mind nii-san would move heaven and earth to get a housecall down to Pinako. Heck, if Patterson remembered them at all, he'd probably freely volunteer.
But weeks . . . ? Winry, he thought wearily. Why didn't you tell us sooner?
The car was winding down the main drive of the Parliament building, and he glanced at the closing paragraph and its loopy signature briefly before folding the thick cream paper and tucking it back into his vest. He'd left without his coat, since it was still quite warm outside for early fall, but he didn't feel that he was underdressed.
That was what the Prime Minister got, if he looked as if he'd just been whisked off a lecture floor. He had been.
The lieutenant had his door open before the car had even stopped moving, lending a sudden urgency that had previously not been present, and Al wondered exactly what the officer's time table had been. He moved with equal swiftness, stepping out of the car immediately and following the slightly grateful-looking lieutenant up the marble stairs at a fairly quick pace.
They were both pretty tall, and their strides made quick work of the grand entrance hall. A series of double doors lined the far wall, thrown wide to tempt a non-existent breeze into Parliament Hall. There was an active session; at a glance he could see at least half the members were there, though their attitude was a little more casual than all this hurry and secrecy would have implied.
So he was here for something that didn't involve Parliament directly?
In that case, this production had been for the benefit of the military. Or to cover his ass for something he was going to be asked to do later.
"The Drachman party left this morning," the lieutenant offered, nodding his chin towards the hall as they swept past. "I believe all the details from that meeting are currently being disseminated."
Al just nodded.
Aha. The Drachmans.
He'd forgotten about that.
It was hard to keep tabs on everything going on politically, and Al had determined weaseling the details of some of the innermost workings of their government wasn't worth the energy. Nii-san had put the Prime Minister into a pickle, forcing him to lie about the circumstances revolving around the Irvings, and that had unsurprisingly caused all kinds of stir. With the Drachmans popularly believed to be responsible for the attempts on the Prime Minister's life, the fact that one of the attempts had been made up on the spot, with no evidence, just muddled things further.
At this point, there was no guarantee the same group was actually responsible for the pre- and post election attempts. He hadn't discussed any of the recent results with the colonel in quite some time, being too tied up with the Academy, clearing the feedback from the Irvings' crystal, and rebuilding portions of the city destroyed in the Thule Invasion.
But he doubted there was anything new. As far as he knew, there hadn't been an attempt on Roy Mustang's life since . . . well, for at least five months. Perhaps all the investigating had scared the parties responsible underground.
He followed the lieutenant up another flight of stairs, wondering if that lie was the reason he had been swept so unceremoniously out of class mid-lecture. Not that he had any light to shed on Mustang and Ed's lie, considering he hadn't been present for any of it. Which kind of saved his bacon, in a way, because if he'd been confronted immediately after bringing the Tringums back to the hospital, he'd probably have blown it.
The stairs opened onto a wide corridor that marked the beginning of the Prime Minister's wing. Gone were the many symbols of the military, and in their place stood art and documents more culturally based. One thing Bradley hadn't done was significantly cultivate the identity of Amestris, despite its history of acquiring very different peoples in its military conquests. Now there was evidence of the Ishbalans, the Liorians. Fine tapestries hung on the imposing white walls, and cases and short columns proudly displayed pottery and sculptures that had been given to the government by other countries as gifts. A particularly formidable jade dragon from Xing had recently arrived, and Al watched its incredibly spherical eyes seem to follow him as he and his escort hurried past.
Apparently this was not the time for sight-seeing.
The doors to the Prime Minister's conference center were open, and his secretary was seated demurely at her desk. She merely nodded to the lieutenant, who led him immediately to the main office. This was only slightly out of the ordinary; Mustang usually held casual meetings in his office, and more formal ones in the conference room. Considering the production of bringing him here, Al was surprised he was being pulled into the former rather than the latter.
The lieutenant knocked once, then pulled open the door, stepping behind it. Al took the invitation, and was unsurprised to find the room utterly devoid of life. With a quiet click, the door was closed behind him.
This wasn't the first time he'd been deposited in Roy's office only to find Roy himself absent. If possible, Mustang was even busier than he was.
The younger of the Elrics glanced around the large office, noting the round table in its corner, the enormous desk, the many sofas splitting the almost-ballroom into several more cozy areas. Taking his queue from the lack of lieutenant waiting with him, he chose to sit in front of the Prime Minister's desk, gazing idly at the backs of a few pictureframes on his desk.
He knew what they were from previous visits. One of them was Maes Hughes, being a goofball besides a quietly smirking Roy. One of them was of the Hughes family at large, including a bubbling Elysia in her mother's arms. One of them was of Elysia herself, though that one often rotated as Gracia sent him new ones. Al leaned forward, guessing from the size of the frame which would hold that particular picture and grabbing the one on the far left.
Bingo. Elysia was now ten years old, nearly eleven, and had grown from a slightly chubby little girl into a moderately tall and strikingly adorable young lady. Her manners were impeccable, except where Ed was concerned, and she had taken her sudden national fame in stride surprisingly well. Most of the country knew her name, thanks to Mustang's speech during his instatement, and she thrived under the attention.
She also was dangerously skilled with a slingshot, which both the Elrics had painfully discovered the last time they'd visited Gracia. Elysia was quite obviously her father's daughter.
And once she'd realized Edward could transmute his 'automail' into a catapult, the battle had been on. Al wasn't really sure that Elysia knew her father had had a great talent with throwing knives, but if Gracia wasn't careful, she was going to end up pulling flatware out of the walls in a few years.
One of the bookcases opened softly, revealing the concealed door and a rather serious-looking Roy Mustang, and Al hastily got to his feet and replaced the picture on the desk. Mustang's mouth quirked, but he didn't comment.
"At ease, Major."
Al hadn't exactly saluted him, but then again, Mustang didn't exactly care. It was just . . . respectful to take one's feet when one's boss entered the room. He waited until Mustang was behind the desk before retaking his seat, and Roy did the same. He was carrying several folders, which he dropped on the huge desk.
So it wasn't a mission? Or at least it wasn't an official one?
Mustang must have noted his quizzical look. "Obviously you're wondering why you're here." He glanced at the main doors of his offices, as though he was expecting them to open. "Let me start with an apology. I believe I promised you that I wouldn't get in the way of your personal projects."
Al carefully kept his hands relaxed and uncurled on the armrests of his chair, and he mentally patted his intuition on its head. He knew Mustang wouldn't break a promise unless there was a very good reason, but he didn't feel the need to put the Prime Minister more at ease on the subject.
A quick mission wouldn't significantly cut into his restoration time. Which meant this wasn't going to be quick. And with his non-Academy time already split evenly between rebuilding the Thule Invasion damage and clearing the still-lingering feedback Craege Irving's rampage had left, he was falling far behind on his timeline.
Mustang had only given him three years, after all. And one of them was already half gone.
"However, I believe you're uniquely suited for this assignment. I hope it can be completed quickly, but there is a chance that it will take a significant amount of time."
"Are you giving me the option to refuse?" It wasn't like Roy to . . . hesitate. Or preface any order with an apology. It was almost as if he felt he had to justify the assignment.
Al watched him, waiting politely for him to respond, and Mustang's focus seemed to shift. It was hard to know when you had his full attention; half his face was hidden by the patch that also hid the scars he'd acquired in his fight with Pride and subsequent shooting from Frank Archer. The eye that could be seen was usually dark and calm, and it was always looking at you, even when his mind was a thousand miles away.
But there was certainly something about his gaze that hadn't been there before. Surprise, maybe?
Before Al could really identify it the main office door was swept open, a whisper of the wood on thick pile carpeting. He waited until the colonel was only a few strides away before retaking his feet, and Colonel Riza Hawkeye gave him a brief smile and a thick folder.
"Good morning, Alphonse," she greeted smoothly, before turning her attention to the man behind the desk. "My apologies, Prime Minister. There was a . . . slight clearance issue with one of the records."
Clearance issue . . . ? This was sounding more and more militarily-related by the second. Al toyed with the folder's edge a moment as he sat again. If he was to be allowed to refuse, it was likely he could only do so before reading the cover page of the mission brief.
Mustang was nodding, as if Hawkeye's excuse for her tardiness was not unexpected, and the colonel turned on her heels, not to leave the room but to take the seat beside Al.
Something was definitely up.
"How far did you have to go to resolve it?"
Hawkeye smiled slightly, arranging herself both elegantly and formally in the chair beside Al. "Lieutenant Colonel was sufficient."
Mustang absorbed the information, choosing his next words with the same deliberate tone he had used as long as Alphonse had known him. "I see. Alphonse, the answer to your question is no. You have been promoted to the rank of Lieutenant Colonel for the duration of the assignment."
Al accepted that without word, glancing down at the thick folder in his hands before flipping open the cover. Better to figure out what he was getting himself into as quickly as possible. The sooner he had the details, the sooner he could complete the mission.
"Contained in the brief are dossiers on six of your fellow State Alchemists."
That was readily obvious from the brief summary page, listing their names in alphabetical order. Breckhart, Elric, Morris, Sorn, Swolls, and Tringum. Somewhat bemused, Al flipped to the second paperclipped report, finding the title 'Full Metal' on the upper right-hand corner.
"What is this?"
"Each faculty and staff member of the Academy was profiled by a team under the orders of General Hakuro." It wasn't a satisfactory answer, and Al looked up sharply. Roy took that as a cue to continue. "It would appear they went over paperwork only – vacation requests, timesheets, research topics. You need only concentrate on the alchemists listed."
"And what am I looking for?" He almost flipped to the back, but caught himself – Roy had said State Alchemists, so the Tringum had to be Russell. Below Edward's stats he found a series of lines, headed with date and timestamps, describing actions, purchases, and in one case, an absence.
It wasn't that he didn't trust Mustang. He just knew that tone.
He was supposed to not like this assignment. Mustang was waiting for a protest.
"Each profile lays out the suspect activity and what the military believes it might have related to. Almost all were opportunities these alchemists had to sell information or secrets to outside influences, in most cases Drachma."
"If all the research has been completed, I assume the military is moving on its own to investigate these opportunities." He was very careful not to substitute the name 'Hakuro' for the phrase 'the military,' though it was understood.
"You assume correctly. Your brother is currently handling triage for those investigations. I need yours to be a little more . . . subtle."
Al leaned back in the chair, letting his chin drop slightly as he started to put the pieces together.
No wonder Mustang thought he was going to protest.
"I don't know if you're yet aware, but Edward's court martial has been given a date."
Al felt the corners of his mouth twitch up. "How convenient."
It really was. In fact, his new 'promotion' was just the icing on the cake. Not only did he now out-rank his brother, Edward had probably been stripped of his military rank in preparation for the upcoming trial. He couldn't order the soldiers out of the Academy, even if he hadn't been asked explicitly not to. Which he obviously had, if Mustang could so calmly say that nii-san was 'running triage.'
That was why he'd been brought before the Prime Minister in the manner he had.
That was why he was uniquely suited for the assignment.
The alchemists, including the suspected ones, would know by now that Alphonse Elric had been pulled out of the Academy by the military. The same military that promoted him above his brother even as they stripped Edward of his own rank.
The same military that, as every State Alchemist knew, the Elric brothers weren't particularly fond of.
It would look like a painfully obvious effort on Hakuro's part to buy Alphonse's favor while attempting to discredit Edward, which had been Hakuro's position since the Elrics had returned to Amestris. While Hakuro and his soldiers might be fooled, the alchemists would know such a pathetic gesture would only serve to make Al . . . well, angry. Would make Alphonse Elric even less likely to do as Hakuro 'asked' than he would have otherwise been.
In which case, Alphonse Elric might be a rather good friend to make.
There was no doubt everyone on the list had done something suspicious. And there was no guarantee that it hadn't been illegal. But he, like Mustang, couldn't believe one of them could be behind assassination attempts. He interacted with all the alchemists listed on a weekly basis, some daily. Ed was on the list simply to shed more suspicion on him. Al was certain of that. He hadn't read enough of the reports to know why everyone else was on the list, but honestly . . . Tringum? Breckhart?
They would know they were under scrutiny. Hakuro wouldn't be subtle about it, not when he could rub in their faces that the Prime Minister couldn't protect them. Discrediting Edward Elric lowered that protection further. They would assume Hakuro promoted Al to make him less appealing as an ally, not more. Therefore, if they had done something illegal, they were likely to approach him and ask for assistance.
After all, Alphonse was very approachable. And usually had clever ideas when it came to getting out of tight spots. So long as he behaved in a way that let the other alchemists know he might be sympathetic to their plight, they might drop him hints that would enable him to figure out what they had done and at least absolve them of ties to Drachma.
And, since this was likely not exactly an 'official' mission, Mustang probably didn't want to know. He just wanted them cleared of treason, not punished for whatever suspect thing they'd done to get them on the list in the first place.
All he had to do was figure out what they'd done to get on the list.
Of course, there was always the possibility that one of them really was selling information to Drachma. Or that they wouldn't be bright enough to make the assumptions Roy was counting on them to make. In that case, or the case that they had military ties and it was revealed to them that Hakuro had nothing to do with Al's promotion, they would realize the truth. That Mustang was conducting his own investigation.
And that would make him a target.
Which also played into Mustang's hands, because he knew damn well that Al was an excellent alchemist and hand to hand fighter. He could take care of himself. And his method of transmuting, and favorite transmutations, were not nearly as lethal as the Prime Minister's own.
So if he was attacked, he was more likely to capture his attacker alive. In which case that attacker could be interrogated.
It was a win-win situation. For Mustang.
Beside Al, Riza shifted. "If you'd like, I can assign you some staff-"
Al just shook his head. "That's not necessary, colonel, but thank you." No, if he was going to be bait, he wasn't going to endanger anyone else. There was always the chance that their enemy was bright enough to know Al was working for Mustang directly, and rather than attack him, just leave him alone. Or worse, lead him on, pretending to need his help hiding some harmless illegal activity. He was in very real danger, if any of these alchemists were actually guilty.
"Do you understand your assignment?"
Al glanced over at Mustang, not surprised to see the same intense gaze he had before. It occurred to him, suddenly, that Roy was having as hard a time reading him as he was having reading the other man.
Good, he thought a little smugly. He kept it out of his voice, though, when he replied. "I do. I assume you don't want me calling the offices with my findings?"
Mustang looked pleased. "Hawkeye will have a private line set up. I trust your judgment."
Al nodded. "Do any of these tie back to the uranium bomb?" Hakuro could always use this as excuse to more completely investigate what he'd always thought had been Mustang's interference with the bomb test, and it would explain why Russell was on the list -
Roy shook his head. "Tringum's in there for some else."
Alphonse glanced at the dossier a moment, then realized he could read it without wasting Mustang's time. "Assuming I find something serious?"
"Report it to me or the colonel immediately." The response was crisp and quick; Mustang had been expecting that question. "Don't take action outside of self-defense."
Don't take on the enemy. Leave that for someone else.
Setting him up and trying to protect him at the same time. The same thing Mustang did with all his subordinates. The same contradiction.
One of these days, that tactic was going to fail catastrophically.
Al nodded, standing even as the colonel and Prime Minister also rose, signaling the end of the meeting.
"It goes without saying, but please keep your brother as uninvolved as possible."
Al just nodded. It was likely he was on the list because of the lengths he'd had to go to to hide the fact that his automail was really just hollow armor, which meant Mustang didn't seriously consider him a threat. But even so, Ed was the sort of person to take very vocal offense when he disagreed with something. And in this case, vocal offense wasn't likely to help.
A small thought tugged at his consciousness, begging for attention, and Al half-turned as the three walked towards the main doors. "You said Hakuro conducted investigations on the entire staff of the Academy, including the students. Did he investigate anyone else?"
Hawkeye smiled thinly. "He did. It's important that you speak only with me or the Prime Minister regarding this assignment."
Al felt his eyebrows raising. Surely she wasn't saying what he thought she was-
"I have my own list." She pulled open the door, ending further discussion, but her meaning was clear.
He was not to mention this to anyone. Not even Mustang's staff.
- x -
Author's Notes: I know, I promised explosions. But, alas, the plot got in the way, and I've been sitting on this for a week trying to think of how to get to the next scene, and all that resulted in was a long delay in updating the fic. So, it's short, and there are no explosions, but just you WAIT until the next chapter. All kinds of action! Gunfire! Doom! Destruction!
. . . okay. Just gunfire. ; ) As per usual, posted without a beta, and I've gone through looking for mistakes and found a couple, so it should be pretty clean. I hope to post a couple chapters today, but we'll see. It'll pick up eventually! It has no choice, at this point . . .