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

- x -

"Full Metal Alchemist Edward Elric to see you, sir."

Challiel was silent a moment before she cradled the elegant silver phone. "The Prime Minister will see you now."

He just nodded, never breaking stride. Luckily, the lobby Mustang's secretary oversaw was large enough that she could notify the Prime Minister of incoming officials requesting audiences and receive permission before they could actually cross to his office doors.

Of course, he wasn't really requesting an audience. And he noted she made no mention of his entourage, though Colonel Hawkeye was emerging from her office with a raised eyebrow and a slightly bemused look.

"If you'd given me Sheska I could have dispensed with the props," he muttered, and her expression collapsed into a small smile.

"I believe teaching suits you, Edward."

For once, the three officers following him weren't holding him under arrest. They were instead holding rolls of parchment, journals, reams of notes, and in one case, a large pictureframe. Edward hit the doors as the colonel joined the train following him, and it was only the knowledge he'd be run over that kept him walking once he saw who was in the office.

"Edward," the Prime Minister murmured, unflappable as always, and General Hakuro looked him up and down before turning back to whatever conversation he'd just interrupted.

Keeping his growl to himself, Ed signaled the men behind him to deposit their load on the large conference table, to the right. He proceeded directly to the Prime Minister's desk, aware of a silent presence still behind him. Probably Hawkeye.

Probably to make sure he didn't do something stupid. The two high-backed chairs in front of the Prime Minister's desk seemed a good place to plant himself between and start ranting, but he suddenly realized the other chair was also occupied, albeit by someone much smaller than the general. Thick black glasses frames stared up at him, and the anger and frustration he was just dying to lay on Mustang's desk died away completely.

"Fuery," he said instead, and felt his frown disappearing into the first genuine smile he'd had all day. The man was still pale, still just a sliver in blue, but the uniform was present. And the General was present-

"E-Edward," he started, then nervously adjusted his glasses. His hands were apparently sweating, because he hurriedly wiped them on his pants before accepting Ed's outstretched hand. "It's good to see you again."

He was still a brunette. His hair had grown back, though not as full as it had been. The military buzz did a good job of hiding that, though. The medal he'd received for Special Service to the State was pinned to his uniform coat, as well as his second lieutenant stripes. And even knowing Fuery wore the smallest possible size, he couldn't help thinking the uniform looked too big on him.

Surely they weren't discharging him . . .?

"Good to see you too," he agreed, glancing towards Mustang. "Coming back to join the rat race?"

"We were just discussing that," Roy murmured. "Please report."

Ed blinked at him, nonplussed, then turned and stared blatantly at Hakuro.

"The reason you were allowed to complete your investigation, given your current military status, Fullmetal, was due to the general's benevolence. You owe him thanks."

"I doubt benevolence had anything to do with it," he replied, in what he hoped was a civil voice. There was no point in freaking Fuery out any more than he already was, but frankly he wasn't really sure Mustang wanted him in the room either, not with what he was about to say.

"Your report, Full Metal," the general prompted mildly, when nothing else happened.

Hell no.

It must have been written all over his face, because Roy lowered his chin slightly. "Is your personal grudge more important than the safety of the country?"

Ah, there was the anger and frustration again. "I don't think a history of pointless interference should be reduced to a definition of 'personal grudge.'" But he did have a point, dammit, and after a moment Ed spun on his heels. "You need to come see this."

The party moved from the Prime Minister's desk to a cluster of chairs and a love seat gathered around a low coffee table, across from the conference table. That was fine with him; he needed the table to arrange things anyway. He noticed that Fuery was hesitating by Roy's desk, but at a look from his Prime Minister he scuttled over as well.

Well, actually, a communications expert probably wouldn't be a bad thing to have on hand.

"It's thin," he started, knowing it sounded like a disclaimer.

"I'll take thin over nothing."

Well, here went nothing. "We broke Sorn's research down into subjects. Geography, astronomy, physics, mathematics." He picked up one of the rolled parchments, unrolling it so they could see a startlingly detailed map of Amestris. "I've never seen a map of this caliber." Not on this world, at any rate.

Hawkeye stood, so Ed walked it over to her and watched her spread it out on the coffee table. "Nothing's marked," she said after a moment of careful scrutiny.

"No. And no part of the map is worn, either." He'd sort of hoped the kid had traced his destination over and over again, and they'd have found the damage. "The thing that interests me is the attention to altitude."

Roy glanced up. "Why would he need a map of this detail." There was no question he could afford it, though it must have cost tens of thousands of cenz.

"Exactly. It's out of place, unless geography is a closet hobby." That he never mentioned to anyone. "He has other maps, all detailing the plains and mountain ranges in southwestern Amestris." He handed Hawkeye two of the smaller ones. "Unfortunately, it's a pretty big area, containing eight major cities and a few dozen large towns."

"Any of them of interest?"

Ed shook his head. "No. His records state his hometown is Jannai, which is closer to the east border." He hefted up the pictureframe, though he didn't offer it to Hawkeye. "This map."

It was also in excruciating detail, as well as twenty miles of topography in every direction.

"What do you think it means?"

Ed gave the general a cool look. "Nothing more than a curiosity, by itself." He set the pictureframe back down, carefully. "It didn't really mean much until I started looking into his notes on . . . well, on my and Al's notes."

He rifled through the reams, which had been carefully gathered by subject, and started passing them around. Not that anyone was going to peruse more than a few pages. He meant to leave them with Mustang, to get a second opinion, and a third, if he ever figured out where the hell Al had gotten to.

"His interest in our notes centered on Xenotime, Liore, and Al's notes just prior to the Thule Invasion." And here was where Mustang was going to kick Hakuro out, since now they had to frankly discuss the Stone and he really, really didn't want to give the general any more ammunition than he already had on that subject.

Roy glanced up at him. "You think he's trying to transmute a gate to that world?"

Trust Mustang to make that leap immediately. And right in front of the general, who managed to quash his surprised look pretty quickly. "I initially thought that, yes." He eyed the reams of paper before indicating the one Fuery was fumbling with. "But he went back to the original Liore notes. There were also official military investigations of the Liore incident in the pile."

"Why the fixation with Liore?"

"The first notes covered Cornello's fake Stone, the second the loss of the army, and the third the advanced Thule party that arrived." That hadn't been a difficult conclusion to come to, once he'd broken it down. "All three either produced or required a powerful alchemic amplifier. Tack on Al's postulating on how much power it would take to open a Gate to another world, and the Tringum research into Red Water in Xenotime, and you have a pretty obvious pattern."

"So this is basically research into how to make a Stone." Hakuro tossed his pile of notes onto the coffee table. "We already knew that."

"It also tells us how he plans to manufacture it." Ed looked right at Roy. "Only two amplifiers proved to be useful enough to actually accomplish something. One was the Philosopher's Stone, and the other was a pair of Homunculi. There aren't any more of those lying around, but they're easier to make than a full Stone."

Hawkeye cocked her head to the side. "The chimera."

Ed nodded once. "My guess is he was playing with living things other than humans, in an effort to learn biological transmutation under the table." Or under the street, as it were. "It would explain why there was evidence that some of them had been there for a while. I think he realized that he couldn't pull off human transmutation with the Incomplete Stone he'd mined. I think the chimera were a test run."

Ed paused to let that sink in, then added, "Maybe Franklin tried to resurrect the dead chimera as well, in an effort to learn how. It wouldn't have gone well, and could explain his sickly behavior over the past month."

And those failed tests, of course, would lead to the one solution as logical as the Mechanical Alchemist. "He concluded that he'd need a full Philosopher's Stone. These notes also tell him how to make one."

Roy stared at him for a moment, and then he smiled. It was more than a little self-deprecating. "I see."

It was obvious the other members at the table hadn't made the leap. "I didn't figure it out until I considered the assassination angle. Why would Sorn try to have Mustang killed? At first I thought it was because he knew Mustang would move faster than any other official to find and take the Stone away." And he'd liked it better when that had been the prevailing theory.

"But then you realized a successful assassination would result in war," Hawkeye said suddenly. "He plans to re-enact Liore. All he needed was an army."

"I guess we should be glad he decided on an enemy one instead of ours." And that's what it really boiled down to. Franklin Sorn wasn't trying to transmute a Gate to Earth. He was trying to lure an enemy to attack Amestris herself, and use that army as ingredients for his Philosopher's Stone.

"I'm assuming that he was giving information to the assassins. It was probably why they were at his house, and why Al and I startled them so badly." Having two State Alchemists waiting for them instead of their informant probably hadn't reflected well on Franklin, come to think of it.

"Unfortunately, this map covers both the borders with Creta and Aerugo." The general frowned at it. "Minister, did Major General Armstrong have any light to shed on this attack she did not share with me?"

It was unlike Hakuro to ask so nicely, and it threw Ed for a loop. They weren't seriously working together . . . were they?

"No," he answered immediately. "We couldn't tell." He shook his head. "The framing of Drachma works to Sorn's favor. If Tolya and I hadn't reached an agreement, he'd have had his pick."

"Which is why the attempts became more hurried," Hawkeye concluded. "If Amestris was to join peace talks with Drachma, we'd withdraw the forces and attention from the north and deploy them to our other borders."

"So it's certain to be Aerugo or Creta." Hakuro gave Edward a critical look. "Any clues?"

Here he had to admit that he didn't have the answers. "That's why I said it was thin," he admitted grudgingly. "It ties a lot of the information together, but not all of it."

"Like what?"

Ed sighed, going back over to the conference room table to pick up another large ream of papers. He just held it up; they wouldn't understand it anyway. Hell, he wasn't sure he did. Math was more Al's thing. "This math is unrelated to physics. There's no way to apply it to Sorn's alchemy. He spent a significant amount of time on it. And speaking of time . . ." He held up another of the rolled parchments, showing them a beautiful representation of the night sky.

"The astronomy angle is a little odd, too. I'll buy that he was trying to make a machine that could measure the passage of time based on star charts, but some of these charts go back twelve years."

"He could be using the differences between the charts to measure the movement of the constellations over a longer stretch of time," Fuery said, quietly. It was the first time he'd contributed to the discussion, so Ed was careful to make no bigger deal of it than he had when Hawkeye or the general had interrupted.

"That's possible. The why, though. We already have accurate timepieces." Or accurate enough, anyway. "Physics can probably give us far more accurate timekeeping than astronomy anyway, since the speed at which electrons revolve is constant and measurable."

"What else."

Ed rolled up the starchart. "The piece of Craege Irving," he said finally. "He put it under his library on purpose. I think I know the day he did it, so he's had it a long time. I don't know why he would have kept it."

It wasn't a powerful amplifier, after all. It was a powerful poison, certainly. Much like uranium.

The second he had the thought, he clamped his mouth shut.

Shit.

In a way, it was exactly like uranium. Surely the kid hadn't been thinking of making a bomb with it? In case his assassination plan failed, as it was starting to do?

If he did, he better have been planning to use it on enemy soil. He'd already committed treason just by giving the enemy information, and it meant a firing squad.

And that was another reason he hadn't wanted Hakuro present. Mustang might bend the rules, considering how much bending he'd done for him and Al. Hakuro wasn't going to budge. Being able to blame one of the famed State Alchemists for this plot was nothing but a boon for the man. Another reason to rip control of the alchemists from Mustang, since he obviously couldn't keep them on a leash.

Mustang was giving him a long, steady look, and he wondered how much of his realization had shown on his face. "Any other clues?"

He shook his head. "No. I can't come up with anything that would explain everything."

"Why does he want a Stone?" Fuery was studying the map, upside-down. "Do we know where he'll go if he can make one?"

"Most of his hometown died of a plague eleven years ago." Ed thought about grabbing the map again, and had to remind himself that he wasn't in a classroom. "The chimeras make me think he's thinking about human transmutation, either to create homunculi as ingredients, or because he plans to resurrect the town."

Hawkeye stared at him. "You think he wants to bring back the entire town?"

"Al does." He hadn't gone to Jannai, after all. "He said it looked like Franklin had transmuted half the town, tools for the elderly and industry alike."

Roy's lips twitched. "He certainly earned his nickname."

He didn't volunteer it, so Ed let it go. "It's all a guess at this point, but at least some of it adds up."

"Too much," Mustang agreed. "Where do you think he is now?"

And that was another problem. "I don't know. Either he thought the four were going to be successful, or –" Or there was going to be another attempt, very shortly. "Or you need to watch your back," he finished lightly.

"Or he's run out of time," Hakuro said, thoughtfully, and glanced briefly at Edward before turning to Mustang. "You and I both know an army of this size can't be gathered or deployed on such short notice, in secret, based on whether a single event has or hasn't happened."

Ed blinked. On the logistics side, actually, he was right. It probably couldn't.

"It would only take a few hours for that news to travel out of the borders," Fuery offered, a little timidly. "South City is closer to the border, and while obviously radio waves would never get that far . . . if someone were placed in the city as a relay point, a telegram could be sent over the border. Then depending on Aerugo's phone infrastructure . . . It would take longer for Creta to get the news, since West City is further in, but not that much longer."

"So they already know it failed." Hawkeye glanced back over at Mustang. "I would have assumed if they weren't going to wait for the results, we'd have lost a city by now."

Mustang was silent, his visible eye dark and calm. "Colonel, forward all intelligence reports from West and South cities to Sheska immediately. Tell her she's looking for unusual activity, including the officer's logs." He turned immediately to Hakuro. "What's the current deployment in that area?"

"Basic border patrols and standard fortification. We have several more divisions stationed in South because it's closer to the border. I can get you exact numbers in an hour. However . . ." The general hesitated, then glanced at him, and Ed narrowed his eyes in reply. About to advise the deployment of the State Alchemists, was he?

"I don't believe we should fortify those positions at this time."

Mustang leaned back in his chair, his contemplative mask slipping on effortlessly. "Keeping this from the Speaker will look like a coup, General. Particularly if I get killed." He said it very matter-of-factly, though Fuery couldn't help a little squeak.

"All due respect, Minister, don't get killed." Hakuro's tone was brisk. "Bolstering defenses in South and West will just tilt our hand. It puts off a conflict that has been brewing for over a year now, possibly to a less fortuitous time. You've damaged your position with Parliament greatly in all this, and if Sorn truly is an informant for the enemy, you've just demonstrated that you mismanaged the State Alchemists."

"He's also demonstrated that he was correct, and that attacking Drachma would have played into the hands of our enemies," Hawkeye reminded him, a light edge to her voice.

"The first assassination attempt was before he was elected. Assuming Sorn was responsible for it, as opposed to getting his ideas from it, a victory here might lend weight to a claim that Mustang knew about the threat all along and has been drawing things along in his own time."

For the second time since he'd walked in the door, Ed was stunned. Maybe someone was impersonating Hakuro? Or he was under some kind of mind control, from someone like Noah?

"How do you propose we win a war without fortifying our defensible positions, General?"

"If Fuery is right, and someone has been placed in the target city to relay news, any indication of increasing defenses is going to be immediately reported. If we perform the same maneuver in both cities, it will communicate that we know there's a threat, but we don't know from whom. I don't suggest that we completely ignore this. We need to find out which city will be attacked, and when, if possible, before we make any large-scale military decisions."

"So the main advocate for attacking before winter is now advising me to wait before deploying troops?"

The general gave him a droll look. "Circumstances have changed, Minister."

Roy snorted. "Your first understatement of the day."

"Is there any way to lay down the groundwork for moving a significant amount of troops, but making it look as though we're deploying them to Drachma?" Hawkeye said it slowly, as if she was already chewing on the logistics as she asked. "We can prepare the immediate rescheduling of the trains, for example, without actually notifying the trainyards. We can also gather supplies here in Central as well as notify the army to prepare to move."

"It would probably be passed through by any informants to our enemy, which might entice them to make their move," the general agreed, "but given that we're holding Drachma's ambassadors hostage, how do you propose we make it look like we're about to declare war on Drachma without retaliation?"

"I'll speak with Tolya," Mustang stated, as it if was the most logical answer in the world.

"And tell him that we expect to be attacked on a southern or western front, and to please not take advantage?" Hakuro scoffed. "You may have done well diplomatically with Drachma so far, but you must realize you cannot release the diplomats at this time. It would be a discrepancy an informant could detect."

"I don't have to release them to let them use a secure line. They were placed here for the purpose of aiding me in relaying messages secretly to Drachma, after all."

Hakuro looked stunned.

"Though I don't think Ambassador Agata is very fond of me right now," he admitted. "I'll have to ask one of the others. I have no plans to remove what men we have on the northern border at this time, even if we lose West or South City. I trust Armstrong's lieutenants can hold Braggs for a week without reinforcements."

"Surely you-"

"I'm not going to give him specifics." Mustang sounded affronted. "But I don't see any other alternative. If we're going to be able to mobilize our own troops on a day's notice, we have to perform the necessary logistics. It's a move that we're reasonably sure will draw the enemy out. A soldier as experienced as he is will see validity in the strategy."

"So you trust him."

Mustang looked thoughtful. "Well, he's either trustworthy, or we've lost the war," he finally said. "Letting Sorn transmute his Stone would solve the problem of the original aggressors, but if it was confirmed that Amestris well and truly had a Philosopher's Stone, we'd be fighting a war on every front we have. None of our neighbors would stand for it, promises of Parliament notwithstanding. Particularly in light of the Irving incident. I'd prefer to deal with an army of flesh and blood soldiers than a village full of homunculi."

Ed wasn't sure how much Hakuro knew about the homunculi, but he didn't protest further. There really wasn't anything to protest. If Drachma really was looking for a weakness, they'd strike as soon as West or South was attacked regardless.

It was like Europe all over again.

And all of this was about to be done based on his best guess at what Sorn was really up to.

But teaching had taught Ed a lot of things. He was often posed questions by the alchemist and physicists, and answered them on the fly. Even when he was postulating, he knew he'd applied logic to his process. He had looked the information up and down. He was sure that Sorn was going to transmute a Stone out of an army. Since all eyes were on Drachma, if he was going to use the Amestrian one, the maps would have been of the north. Too much of these notes took too long to figure. It wasn't another trap.

It was still hard to believe that an entire country was about to be risked based on his word.

"Fullmetal."

His eyes flicked away from the map to Mustang.

"Have you spoken with Russell today?"

He shook his head. "Not since this morning. Why?"

The colonel glanced at Hakuro, then answered for Mustang. "Lt. Ross called about a half-hour ago. It seems Russell Tringum is no longer in his place of residence. Can you think of anyplace he might go?"

Getting out of a house full of mourners seemed exactly like Russ's style. He could mourn on his own, would probably prefer to. And he'd go someplace Fletch had loved. "Botanical gardens." It was getting too cool for the outdoor gardens to have much left, and all the blooms would be gone. "I'm sure he'll turn back up."

"There's something else." The tone was the one Roy used when he was hiding something, and Ed sharpened his attention. "Dr. Patterson has confirmed that the remains of Fletcher Tringum currently in the morgue are, in fact, a doll."

For a brief second, Ed's brain stalled. A doll? He hadn't heard of any alchemists transmuting a doll since Shou Tucker, and that bastard was definitely dead. But if it was a doll-

"He also confirmed that they are not the same remains he examined during his initial session." His voice was quite controlled. "Given the discussion of human and biological transmutation you believe Franklin Sorn may have tried, I'd advise you to keep your eyes open."

Ed let the tiny flicker of hope fade. For a brief, beautiful second, it had been possible Fletcher was still alive. Now Mustang was telling him the next time he saw the man, he could be a homunculus. But if Franklin had transmuted Fletcher into a homunculus, he'd know that resurrection of humans wasn't possible-

Wasn't possible without a full Philosopher's Stone, at any rate. Until he'd transmuted one and given it a shot, anyway. Maybe the kid had been hoping the Incomplete Stone would be enough.

Dammit.

"Dammit."

Roy seemed to echo his sentiments. "I'll notify Alphonse that you'd like him to take a look at the information you've assembled. In the meantime, you have a train to catch."

He latched onto the distraction. "Where to?"

"To stop Sorn," Mustang drawled, standing and signaling that their meeting was at an end. "All of this is for nothing if someone doesn't stop him from transmuting that army."

Ed flicked his gaze to the general. "Even if I knew where to go, someone suspended my traveling papers."

The general gave him a dirty look. "They'll be temporarily reinstated."

Oh, of course even with their newfound cooperation the whole damn thing couldn't be wiped clean. Just a temporary reinstatement. "That doesn't help me with the first problem."

"You know he's going south or west, Fullmetal. Take the south train to Dublith, which is the last station you can grab the line west. Figure it out before then."

- x -

"Alphonse?"

Al barely glanced up, letting his fingers walk across the stacks. He couldn't lose his place now; he was more than halfway through this particular box and it had taken him almost forty-five minutes.

"Back here."

Footsteps rounded their way to him, reminding him of just how quiet it was in the Records room. He'd heard them approaching, heard every person pass by the doors. He could almost hear the conversations at the nurse's station, if he really concentrated. If not for that thick door sealing in the apothecary, he probably could have heard in there, too. It was just through the far wall.

If he thought about it too hard, it distracted him, so he didn't.

"What are you doing back here?" He caught movement in his peripheral vision, and he smiled in greeting.

"Hey, doc. Can I con you into doing me a favor?"

"I don't know," Patterson replied quietly. "Can I 'con' you into getting some rest? You should still technically be an inpatient."

"I almost feel like one, I've been here almost the whole time," he complained good-naturedly. "Seriously, though?"

Patterson came up on his right side, peering at the box. " . . . pediatric records? Do I even want to ask?"

"Well, I was thinking." If Patterson was here, it was because the nurses had told the doctor where he was. So Patterson must have been wandering the halls, or waiting for test results. Obviously he wasn't slammed.

"When I first met Sorn, it was at the Prime Minister's inauguration. Ed and I were trapped in some kind of luncheon for what seemed like years." Not that that was important. Besides, Ed had bailed to talk to Winry, and missed most of the tedious stuff. "Sorn told me we'd met before, in Liore. He said his parents owned a donut shop, and I actually remember a donut shop being there."

Patterson was quiet, apparently expecting more. " . . . and what does this have to do with Central's pediatric records?"

"Well, his parents are dead." He'd called Jannai's town hall, just to make sure. "But I think I remember the people that owned that donut shop, and I think I remember actually meeting him."

"And . . . you think that you're going to find a record of Franklin's pediatric care and their names will be on the record?"

Al blinked, then actually glanced up at the doctor. He immediately regretted it; Patterson looked . . . tired. Which was no surprise, he'd probably had the least amount of sleep of the three of them. "Geez, doc. You look terrible. I take it back. Go have a nap instead."

Patterson gave him a half-amused look. "You first. You know these things are in alphabetical order."

Al nodded, turning back to his stack. "Yes. But I doubt the record will show his last name as Sorn, because they weren't his parents."

"He lived in Jannai. Why do you think he would have had medical treatment here?"

"Two reasons, actually." He eyed the next record carefully, but the Frankie in it was a brown-headed child with hazel eyes. He was also five years too old. "Whoever replaced Fletcher's remains did so before his death was public knowledge. It was communicated to the Prime Minister through Hawkeye, and her through his secretary, and her from you. Unless whoever it was has the phones tapped, or works in the hospital, they can't have found out in time."

The doctor remained silent, so Al continued. "So I figure they had to already be here. They had to have come to the hospital and heard about it, and then made their move." Or there was some kind of alchemical fight that triggered Fletcher's heart failure, and the alchemist then waited in hiding until it was safer to move. He hated that thought; it meant the killer had probably taken refuge in this very room.

" . . . so you think Franklin Sorn replaced the body." It was a statement, not a question, but Al nodded anyway.

"I do."

He could feel the doctor's eyes on him, but he was intent on the next record. Franklin Price. Red hair, green eyes.

"I . . . know that the military is looking for him, but surely you don't really believe he had anything to do with this?"

Al pulled the record, flipping it open to read the rest. Eight years old, broken leg in two places. He was a transfer from a Dr. Pryor in Liore.

Al almost smiled. The attending doctor was a J. Ackernath. "Unfortunately, I do," he said quickly, when he realized he'd been silent for too long. "Because there was one other place I looked for this information, and I couldn't find it."

He looked up at the doctor, who was giving him a confused look. "I'm sorry, but I'm not following."

"They owned a donut shop, just north of the square in Liore. All businesses are taxed. It's how I found Franklin's sensei. Tax records in the First Library." He offered the doctor the chart, and Patterson took it slowly, flipping it open. Both his eyebrows shot up.

"Access to the First Library is restricted, and the tax records are being kept temporarily in the same area as the alchemic research, meaning it's even further restricted. Yet there are no tax records for a donut shop on the square in Liore. There's an empty folder."

"It says he was brought in by Madelyne and Dolph Price," the doctor murmured. "You think Franklin was here looking for this record?"

Al nodded. "I do."

Patterson closed the file, laying it down on an empty corner of the desk. "Alphonse, do you know how many Franklins were born in that year? There are going to be dozens of records-"

"Luckily for us, as patients grow up, they get moved out of the pediatrics records to the adults. Sorn's medical record doesn't start until he became a Nationally Certified Alchemist, so I know he wasn't here under his own name." He patted the massive box in front of him. "I know he was at least five when I met him, so I only had to look through ten years' worth of records. This is the last box."

Patterson looked slightly afraid to ask, but he did it anyway. "How many have you found so far?"

"With red hair and green eyes?" Al returned his attention to the box, flicking to the next record. "One."

- x -

Author's Notes: This was actually mostly written for the previous chapter, but I figured it would be too long. Except for the last little bit, so I don't feel so bad about posting it before I get JChrys' pressie finished. :hides: Still working on it! It went a little melancholy on me, so I'm trying to inject some more humor into the end so it ends on a good note. You'd think, with the amount of alcohol involved, that this would not be difficult. )

As always, posted without a beta. If you see anything amiss, please let me know! I bet I can hold the action off for chapters, still. :hides from all the disappointed readers: But think about what great action it'll be! If I ever get there.